All Hail The Queen

Alright, your girl has done it.

It, being -written Brady smut 🙈

marina was the original Female Rage musician of the 21st century lbr

“is this all you got? they locked me under the floor for sixteen years just for being born!” - octavia blake

favourite characters one / three the best of the hundred

I’m a changed woman after this. 🙏🏽

a love like religion

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

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

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

divider credit: cafekitsune

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jay–Jason, please,” you whine.

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay. Please,” you beg through tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forever and always.”

The most sweetest and gentlest Jason Todd fic I have read 😖💕

𝓜𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝓐𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 — 𝓙. 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒅

𝓢 YNOPSIS : : you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i love, love, love you.

𝓒ONTENTS : : yearner!jason todd. yearner!reader. female!reader. injuries( his scars. not detailed, the fic is sfw ). mentions of the lazarus pit. povs are separated ( still in second person. jason's first, then reader's ). ooc(?) jason feeling underserving woah woah woah. fluff. angst (?). mentions of sex. some parts are inspired by lyrics. ( new ) established relationship. no beta read, we die like bruce's parents. wc : 2.4k

BOOKS — DC BOOK

REQUESTED ; SUGGESTED : : @yeoniverseee && @laufeysgoddess

ᨦ𓏲 ، ݃♟❜ : : this is kind of,, a remake of this,,, if u squint.. layout slightly inspired by @laufeysgoddess ' carrd mwah mwah.,, ig it can be gn!reader, ithinkitjinkiithink also. i made hannie & ellie pick a fic to remake & they picked this !! & i was feeling very most ardently these days lolzsk. i am a STRONG believer that jay cried the first time he has sex with someone he really, really loves. like my "my love, mine all mine" fic,, JAY DED CRIED THERE SHUT UP. okay, now im really just recycling the pictures and layouts hehehehe. also,, 800???? YOU GUYS?????? ARE???? 800??? EIGHT HUNDRED ?????? EIGHT FUCKING HUNDRED ???? IM MAKING BABIES W U ALL. some parts here are actually what i said to @fromdove 😋( this is also dedicated to her btw. all of my works r prolly dedicated to her, hannie & ellie ) i love her ( including my cherries ) as much as i love jay, btw !! i tried to be poetic, guys. i really did🥀. idk if i hate this or love THEM. also... @yintous jinxed the crying part........ yin, you freak. this took me a whole week gng #writersblockslanderer. probably not ur taste in fics bc it's more focused on how they love

every time. every single time he finds himself staring at you too long, he hears it in his head like a fucking prayer. not that he's still into that kind of thing, but anyway. there's something sacred about the way you smile at him. something that gives him the sense that he has god's favorite secret beside him on the couch, his hoodie wrapped around your with her hair tied up in a bun and your toes against his thigh.

he thinks you're unreal. and maybe a little unfair. because you're soft with him. too soft. you're gentle in ways he doesn't think he deserves, like you were made to prove him wrong just by existing in his space. just by existing on this planet, actually.

it's a new relationship. not new in the way that it's uncomfortable or awkward. just new enough that he still feels the flutter in his belly when you kiss him first. just new enough that anything little you do still surprises him.

like how you touch his scars.

not with pity. not with horror. and obviously, not even with that unattached interest people sometimes get. no. you touch them like they're part of a map you're memorizing. like your fingers are tracing out every inch of what made him and you don't want to miss a single marker.

"this one," you said once, tracing over the raised scar near his ribs, "looks like a half moon."

and he looked at you like you'd said something ridiculous. because who the hell gazes at a scar━━a remnant of a knife that nearly killed him( not really )━━and thinks of the fucking moon?

you do. apparently.

he wants to write that down somewhere. with a permanent marker. place it into the back of his head so he'll never forget the way you looked at him that way. like you saw something lovely in all the spaces he thought were destroyed. maybe a tattoo would do.

sleeping beside you is its own kind of pain. he doesn't sleep much, usually. his body doesn't find stillness comfortable. but when you're in his arms, curled into his chest, breathing slow and steady and trusting him with your entire heart, he sleeps like the dead. it's dangerous. it's silly( not to you ). it's addictive. he wakes with his arm around your waist and his nose pressed to the back of your neck and wonders if perhaps this is what peace feels like.

god, not once in his life. even when bruce wayne took him in, thought he'd get to feel that.

and when you kiss him━━god, when you kiss him━━it's like you can feel what he wants before he can. you kiss him slow. careful. sometimes sloppy, sometimes quick. but always as if he belongs to you. as if there is another place in the entire world you'd rather be. and he breaks down. melt. dissolves for it every time. he leans into it with his entire body, as if the only thing holding him to reality is your lips on his.

having sex with you isn't forgetting. not with him. not anymore.

it's not an escape. or temporary. it's a return. a coming home. it's permanent.

you're kind to him. not only in kisses. but in the way you look at him when he undresses in front of you. in the way you stroke his back like it's holy. in the way you whisper his name like it's fragile.

he recalls the first time you had sex. the day he first cried while having sex with you. recalls how he attempted to hide it. bury his face in your shoulder and try to convince himself that it was merely sweat. but you were aware. of course, you were aware. and you kissed his temple and whispered, "i've got you," as if he wasn't shattering in your hands.

you make him believe that he is worth the gentleness. worth, this.

and perhaps he is. perhaps, with you, he is.

because you stay. even when he's not speaking. even when he's being grumpy or distant or two steps away from breaking. you stay. you wrap yourself around him and fetch him tea and refuse to ask him questions he doesn't want to respond to. and somehow, that gets him to speak. not everything. but enough. enough for you to understand.

he spoke to you about the pit. once. and only once. you didn't flinch. just gripped his hand. and said he was here. now. with you.

he trusts you.

and that shit scares him.

love was never simple for him. even before the pit. it was always rough. always a distance. but with you, it is. still. not in the boring sense. in the safe sense. in the "i can finally breathe again" sense. it's rough. but no longer a distance.

sometimes you're singing in the kitchen. poorly. on purpose. or not. and he leans in the doorframe and listens to you spin around in your socks, spatula clutched like a microphone, and he thinks, i could die right now and it would be enough.

he doesn't say anything. not yet. but he thinks about it all the time.

and he loves you. most ardently. passionately. in every possible way that a person can love.

in the way he remembers your coffee order and has a hair tie wrapped around his wrist for you.

in the way he allows you to see him when he's at his worst.

in the way he handles you like you're fragile. like you're not. like you're his.

in the way he sleeps more soundly when you're breathing next to him.

in the way he wishes to believe again in the future.

he loves you. hurtfully. shamelessly. completely. perfectly.

and if he could cut that into the sky, he would.

he loves you in the "let's run barefoot across the universe together" sort of way.

to saturn and back and then beyond.

to the spaces between stars where time loses track of how to move.

and jason todd━━jason peter fucking todd━━doesn't want to be rescued anymore. the child. the second robin. red hood. jason todd.

they all just want to stay.

with you.

he has no idea what he looks like when he is in love. but you do.

you've committed it to memory. tattooed it( at least, in your mind you did ) near your heart. the gentle droop of his eyelids when he gazes at you as if you're a dream. the slight opening of his lips, as if there is something he would like to say but can't. how his hand lingers in mid air before it settles on the small of your back, as if requesting permission still, even now, despite all that has happened.

he stares at you as if you're the last sacred thing in a world of tombs.

and you feel it. every ounce of the burden he bears. not because he loads it onto you, but because he never does. he bears it all as though he was meant to endure it alone, and you have to press yourself into the crack just to make him remember that he doesn't have to. not anymore.

you love him like breathing. all the time, without thinking, with no effort at all. it's just there. like his name on your tongue. like his shirts in your drawer. like the way your heart slows when you hear the front door open and it's him. again. and god, you never felt more real.

you remember the first time he told you about the pit. how his voice sounded like it was scraping the edge of something sharp. how he didn’t look at you, didn’t blink, just stared at the floor like it held the truth and the punishment and the apology all at once.

he said it like it was a confession. like it would be the thing that finally pushed you away. that will make you want to not stay.

it didn't.

you simply leaned over, wrapped your fingers around his, and told him, "you're here now."

he blinked then. just once. as if he was trying to process your words. as if he had no idea that something so simple could mean so much.

sometimes, you wonder if jason todd doesn't know that he's still alive.

not just breathing. but alive.

in the way his eyebrow creases when you laugh too loudly. in the way he rolls his eyes when you steal fries from his plate but pushes the rest up towards you anyway. in the way he allows you to sit on his lap with a book in your hand, not saying a word, just,, existing.

his scars don't frighten you. they never have.

he showed them to you as if he was getting ready to be turned down. again. god. it's like he expects you to just vanish. as if he was showing you the remains of a city he didn't think anyone would want to live in.

you touched them all. one by one. kissed the one under his rib. trailed your fingers over the one that curves into his shoulder. learned the mosaics of him with devotion. patience.

"you're not broken," you told him. "you're written."

he didn't say a word for a long time afterward. just gazed at you like you'd reached into your pocket and pulled out the sun and given it to him.

he tries━━no━━he does his best. every day. every time.

that's what bothers you the most. the way he's doing so hard. not to be good. not to be complete. but to be gentle with you. to be with you. even when it hurts. even when he's afraid.

you notice it the way he cradles your face like you'll disappear. the way he asks you "this okay?" even when it's just your limbs knotted up on the couch. the way he wears your keys around his neck( just to make sure he won't lose it, he told you once. ) like they're where they're supposed to be.

you recall the first time you had sex.

how he touched you like prayer. how his lips shook against yours. how his voice cracked when he said your name.

you knew. immediately. when his breath caught and his chest faltered and he tried to hide his face in your neck, you knew.

and so you cradled him. gently and slowly. allowed him to rest in your arms as if he were something fragile. kissed his temple and said, "i've got you," repeatedly until he accepted it. until he relaxed.

you don't realize that no one's ever made him feel little before. like that. little as in the safe kind.

he clung to you as if he thought he'd lose you if he relaxed his hold.

he didn't have anything to say then. just sat there. still. for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

he looks at you as if you're cut out of finer stuff. but you look at him and observe someone who has been to hell and is still willing to be kind. still tries. still wakes up every morning and makes coffee and leans his head on your chest as if he's found home.

you'd adore him in all the iterations of this life. even the ones in which you never get to hold him.

but you do. and that's the part that takes your breath away.

when he kisses you, it's all. everything. like he's famished and you're the only thing that ever satisfied him. he kisses you like nothing else exists. like if he died the instant after, it'd be alright. because he got to have this.

when you kiss him back, you kiss him with the same desperation. the same longing.

he once held your face in his hands, he didn't say it. i don't think he needed to. you don't either. the words, "you feel like home." was a line the author made solely for him. to recite it to you, the love interest. his love interest.

and you smiled as though your heart was breaking.

because that's what he is. to you. every hurting bit of him. every bruise and sigh and quiet stare and kisses. he is home. he is the place you come back to. the one you'd wait for lifetimes. the one you'd fall in love with all over again.

he can't say it in words, so he says it in everything else.

he gives you flowers wrapped up in yesterday's newspaper. leaves you little notes in your pockets. sits with you through thunderstorms just because you hate the sound.

he stays.

even when he's exhausted. even when he thinks he shouldn't.

and you do, too.

you stay when he's quiet. when he's distant. when he's hurting and doesn't talk until you're kissing his bruised knuckles.

you stay when he's laughing and when he's too far gone to remember why and how.

you stay because there's not a piece of him you'd want to leave.

you love him in the gentlest ways. in the harshest ones. in all the ways he doesn't believe he's worthy of being loved.

you love him when he's in your bed, breath warm against you, arms wrapped around your waist like a lifeline.

you love him when he's disappeared for hours and returns with your favorite pastry because he "just happened to pass by."

you love him when he refuses to say he's hurting but lays his head in your lap like a silent surrender.

you love him because you do.

because something in you saw something in him and chose him anyway.

and you think━━no, you know━━that he is the great love of your life.

he doesn't think in miracles. but you do.

and you think he could be one.

because somehow, some way, despite it all, despite the blood and the grave and the fucked up environment, he's here.

with you.

and if you could have him write that in the stars, you would.

because you love him in the way the sky turns soft pink when the sun forgets how to hide, disappear, go down.

because you love him in the pauses between words, in the spaces between stars, in every what if, could be, maybe, probably, really, statistically speaking, almost, & someday.

he has bewitched you. body and soul.

and you never want it to shatter.

© spcherryygirl

For old times sake is actually such a heartbreaking and beautiful sentiment. Like, let’s do it for the love that used to be here. It is reason enough.

I'm just uterus with fertile eggs

I’M SALIVATING STOP ITTT

let me love you, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (amelia mae egan)

content: what man wouldn't want to love on his wife?

an: 18+. steaaaaamy. @turn-thy-paige I'm doing your idea for gale :0

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa

Her side of the bed was empty. He slid his hand over the place where she once rested. It was still warm. He groaned lowly and ran a heavy hand across his bare chest before rubbing his eye with the stump of his hand. His movements were slow when he sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. His hands swept the floor for his pants, which were tossed near the foot of the bed. He slid them over his legs and trudged out of the bedroom. 

John looked curiously throughout their home for his wife, who seemingly disappeared during the early hours. Her soft hums coming from the kitchen led him straight to her. “Morning, baby,” she spoke once she noticed his presence. She gave him a tired smile and continued grabbing utensils from the drawers to begin making breakfast. John’s eyes glanced at the wall clock above her head. 6:28am. 

“What’re you doing up so early?” 

Amelia shrugged, stating she wasn’t extremely tired and wanted to occupy herself while he got rest. John hummed lowly and slipped past the counter to stand behind her. His strong arms traveled around her midsection, one hand rested on her lower stomach, while the other came dangerously close to chest that was covered by a thin nightgown. 

Amelia shivered at his touch. He was meticulous with the way he touched her. Even the simplest graze of his thumb against the peaks on her chest made her breath hitch. “John…” Her tone was warning. Her tone was warning yet she made no attempt to interrupt his movements. Rather she pressed against him.

“I just want to love on you for a second, doll. Can I do that?” He was an experienced man. The anatomy of a woman was engrained in his mind; he knew it like the back of his hand. Women were different, this he knew, but his familiarity with the body of a woman opened an entryway to a sacred world of pleasure and euphoria that he only felt with her. 

Amelia didn’t respond. John brought his lips to her neck, soft and warm. One of her hands fell from the counter and gripped one of his hands which lowered to caress the front of her thigh. Her chest heaved and her breathing pattern shifted. Unamused, John said, “You didn’t answer me.” 

“Yes,” she finally replied, allowing her head to fall against his shoulder. There it is. John hummed. He turned her body to face him, his hand now against the base of her neck. “Bedroom, doll.” 

Amelia turned on the balls of her feet, his fingers laced through hers, and walked to the bedroom. John’s eyes fell to her waist, focused on the way her hips swayed like the water. She pushed the door open, dropped her shaw on the floor, and laid on the disheveled sheets; looking like an angel in the all-white covers. 

“I love you,” John whispered against her lips as he hovered above her. 

She smiled softly and carded her fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 5

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction my beloved Fen, who I could not do this without. Thank you for being my emotional sounding board, my dear friend, my wonderful cowriter and helpful beta reader. I adore you.

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Javier, Candy, and Santi kiss and make up. Except Javi and Santi don't kiss. Yet.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it. Covert/emotional incest in the past, Santi's mommy issues, m/m dynamics, internalized bi/homophobia

For the record, this is a fic that takes place in the drug trade and deals with the darker side of humanity, so anything from Narco's and Triple Frontier is liable to be discussed or mentioned here. This is your warning. This is not a dark fic nor is it centered around dark themes like Leather and Lace or Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside, but they are open to be talked about.

Reader has a nick name: Candy. Not her real name just what she goes by on her profession. Much of the inspo for this and for the title came from the Bruce Springsteen song “Candy’s room” so check it out for the vibes.

Reader speaks Spanish and has hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS!: Santi's panicy trauma response. Nothing crazy he just needs Javi to like him so so bad. Food and eating. SMUT! Fingering, reach around hand job, multiple orgasms, edging, praising, talking you through it, talking HIM through it, more hints at homoerotic subtext.

Thank you as always to my beloved Fen <3 I couldn't do this without your encouragement.

2.5 words

Support writers! Reblog and comment!

******************************

Santi and Javier had been working in total silence for 4 hours.

As soon as Javi had walked in, Santiago looked up from his paperwork with his large eyes attempting to catch Javier’s but to no avail. Javi ignored him, and continued to ignore him most of the day. He felt bad, he really did, and he missed his friend. It was hard sitting across two desks pushed together, and seeing Santiago right there looking so sad was difficult. Santi was fidgety, unfocused, obviously not paying attention to his work. He’d stare at a page for ages, knee bouncing almost in time to his tapping finger. The boy was going to drive him insane.

Noon hit, and Javi went to lunch, walking down the street to a cart to grab a empañanda. Fuck it, some churros too. His doctor said he needed to start watching his sweets, but it’d been a week. He’d burn off some calories with someone tonight. Not wanting to go back to the office during his lunch hour, Javier walked a few blocks to a small park and parked himself under a tree for some shade as he stuffed his face.

Javier tried to pinpoint exactly what had made him so angry at his young coworker. Maybe part of it is the betrayal. Santi went through his things, his contact information and found one of his girls. His. Candy was his. Javier Peña took pride in protecting his girls, whether or not they were his informants. Helena’s attack had scarred him, the image of her beaten and naked body was something that kept him awake at night. He couldn’t let that happen to Candy. Javi had tried to check in on Helena, knowing the DEA had gotten her a visa to the US, but she wanted no contact with him. Maybe it was the fact: if Santi found his contact information for his girls, and that meant that anyone could. What if it had been a drug lord? Lorea knew the DEA was after him next, what if they had found Candy and brutally raped her like Helena, or killed her?

Javier flicked an ant off his arm.

Maybe it was the fact it felt like he didn’t really know Santi. He called him Pope as a nickname, a call to his church going, the way he was nearly a blushing virgin, he always avoided his eye with topics of sex. The young, naive kid he knew was soliciting prostitutes? It was hard to justify the two pictures in his head. 

Maybe it was the fact it was Candy. Candy of all people. Candy was special to him, a favorite and someone he enjoyed seeing even outside of sex. 

Or maybe it was that fact it was Santi. His partner, his friend, someone he trusted with his very life and liked working with.

He knew both of them, he knew they would connect. He knew they would enjoy each other's company, he knew they’d treat each other well… How could Candy not want someone like Pope? Some as good as Santiago, as kind, as attractive…

Shaking the thoughts away, Peña gathered up his trash, shoved the rest of his churro in his mouth and returned to the pulpit to sit in silence for another 4 hours. Then he saw Santi.

For the first time that day, Javier got a good look at him when he stepped under the arch of the open doorway and watched the boy as he acted, thinking he wasn’t watched.

Santiago was a fucking mess. He had bags under his eyes, his normally well dressed and ironed shirt was wrinkled and it was evident Santi had not shaved since the start of the weekend a few days ago. Santi’s face was always well groomed, a trim, neat mustache surrounded by freshly shaven cheeks and neck showing off his youthful skin; now he looked older. Tired. Worn out. He hadn’t even worn a tie. Nervous ticks were all over him, but what got Javier was that Santi hadn’t moved. 

He hadn’t eaten yet.

All his anger at Santiago melted away, and Javier felt sorry for him.

*

“Haven't you had enough calories today, Peña?” The lady at the food cart said. 

Javier rolled his eyes as he paid the money. “It’s not for me.”

She glanced at his stomach; it was not as flat as it used to be, that’s for sure. “Sure.”

As Javier approached the open door of their shared office again, he made sure to squeak his shoes so Santi knew he was coming before he rounded the corner. 

Without looking up, Santi muttered his first words of the day. “You’re late. Your lunch is only an hour, you know that right?”

“I took part of yours, since you didn’t go.”

Santi muttered something about actually doing his work, but Javi knew today had been Santi’s least productive day since starting. He tossed the brown paper on Santi's desk, and at first Santi begins to complain about the grease on his paperwork, but then he opens the bag.

“What’s this?”

“Your lunch.”

Santi looked up to him, his endearing youth still evident despite the disheveled appearance. “You brought me lunch?”

Javi tried to wave him off as he sat down. “Don’t worry about it.”

The younger man stared up at him, mouth hesitating as if he wanted to say something, but then stopping, then starting, then stopping, then- “I’m sorry!” The words begin spilling out of him. “I’m sorry I went through your things, I really really am! I just didn’t want someone random and-

He raised a hand to stop him. “Garcia, stop. Listen…” He shook his hand and leaned against his desk. Santi looked up at him, desperate and wide-eyed, mouth parted. “She was right. I can’t control her… or you. It’s none of my business who you see…” Javi clears his throat. “And you are still seeing her?”

Santiago stood up, frantic still. Javier wasn’t into weed, but he thought Santi needed to have a smoke. “I’ll stop! Just say the word and I’ll stop!”

“No, Garcia, I get it. I know how it is with her, she’s special. Candy’s important.”

“Not as important as you!”

Santiago’s sudden admission shocked Javier. What did he mean by that? Did he mean… no, Santi wasn't like that, right? “What are you talking about?”

“I mean…” His excited edge gave way to anxiety. “I just mean, we’re friends, right? Partners. We have a good thing going right now and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Oh. “I see.” He couldn’t help feel a little disappointed. “Yeah, we do have a good thing going. Let’s just drop it, alright? I doubt Candy will schedule us on the same day again. We can just pretend it didn’t happen.”

Javier was already moving to sit at his desk as Santi eagerly agreed. “Yes! I- uh, I mean, yeah, perfect.”

Javi snickered a bit. They sat in silence for a moment before Javier decided to bring it up just one more time… “Just… be careful, alright? And treat her good?”

“I do.” Santi was quick to assure. “And I’ll be careful.”

*

The knock on your door made you immediately nervous. No one just showed up, except Señora Perez bringing leftovers for you… when you peaked through the peephole and saw a nervous looking Javi, you sigh. Dumbass. Annoying dumbass. Annoying dumb who fucked really well and was actually super sweet and you enjoyed his company most days… 

“I know you’re home, Candy.” Of course he did. 

You open the door, immediately crossing your arms and leaning against the door frame. “What do you want? Santi isn’t here.”

“I know.” He assured you, then held out a rolled up, large poster. “I wanted to…” Apologize? Javi didn’t say he was sorry. Wasn’t the type. “I brought you this.” He held out the rolled up paper.

Tentatively, Javier held out his gift, which you took suspiciously. It was the Audrey Heffburn poster he promised you. “Javi… I thought you’d throw it away after how I yelled at you…” You were touched at how he thought of you, bringing you posters of artists he knew you loved to liven up your apartment.

“Never, querida.” He promised. “And I’m sorry for making a scene in your home, in front of your neighbors.”

You smile softly, relaxing a bit. He was so kind, so handsome… “I forgive you, just mind your business next time, comprende?”

“Comprendo, Candy.”

Your body language eased. “You and Santi kiss and make up?”

Javier couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. “Si, minus the kissing.”

“You’ll get there.” You wink, and make enough room in the doorway. “You wanna come in?”

Of course he did. He always did. And you always wanted him to. 

*

Javi spread you open. After he sat you on his lap, you wrapped your legs around him and as he spread his legs, yours went with it. It was tender, the way he touched you, calloused fingers running the length of your body and taking you apart on his fingers. Whiskers tickled your neck as he nudged, fingers entering you. Filling you. Taking you. You were his.

And Santi was yours.

You played with Santi’s body, controlled it the way Javi controlled you. From behind. He liked it between your legs, that much was obvious. His hands, his cock, his face. He belongs there. Earlier today he had sat there, his ass between your naked legs with your back to your bed frame, Santi’s back to yours. He felt so good like this, his body firm and young and supple in your grasp and god, you loved having him. It’s no wonder Javi loved taking you like this, on his lap.

Javi liked you on his lap, liked you open for him. Your whole body. He loved to feel you clench around him, himself fully dressed and while you were completely naked.

It was different with Santi. Both of you lay bare as you jerked him off. It was vulnerable this way, both of you naked and open to each other. Santi was so vulnerable… you wanted to protect his sweet little heart, to take care of him, hear him whimper and whine just as he did now as you tease him.

You wanted Javier to devour you, to take you fully and leave nothing left, you needed to be consumed by him… and consume you he did. Javi’s mouth left nowhere untraced, your shoulders, your back, your neck, it was all sopping wet with his sloppy kisses, long fingers pumping into you.

Your fingers wrapped around Santi’s cock, swiping over the slit dripping with pre-cum in his excitement for you… That excitement excited you in turn, his enthusiasm to be explored and used… and you were grateful for him. You let him know it.

“Pretty boy, being so fucking good for me.”

“Pretty girl, being so fucking good for me.” Javier praised when you don’t cry out at the little nibble he took at your throat as he applied pressure to your clit. He knew just how to tease you, to build you up so high that your crash would be blinding. “Not yet, baby,” He coaxes you.

“Not yet baby,” You coo at Santi, tightening the base of his cock to stop his orgasm. “Can you wait just a little longer please? I want you to cum so hard, Santiago, want you to fucking explode on my hand.”

“Y-yes,” he agrees, breathy and desperate but so, so good. He was your good boy. “I can do it, Candy, I can.”

You felt up his chest, his pecs, his tight and perfect body as you jerk him. “I know you can, Santi.”

“I know you can, Candy.” Javi growls in your ear, stubble scratching at your face. “Give me one more.”

You whine, over sensitive from two orgasms on his mouth, but no less hungry for another, no less desperate for the sweet release on Javier’s fingers.

“S’too much!” Santi’s hips thrust into yours, his body beginning to writhe just as you had in Javi’s. 

“It’s okay, baby, you can do it.” You coo at Santi just as Javi coos at you. Then, you both give your command. “Come for me.”

Your orgasm was blinding, clenching down on Javi so hard you weren’t sure how he could move his fingers, cum dripping out of you and onto your shitty plywood floor.

“Oh, good girl,” Javi praises. “Just feeling that pussy cum, I know it must feel so good, doesn’t it?”

“Feel’s so good, doesn’t it?” After half an hour of edging, Santi cums so hard he choked a sob out and you have to keep one arm wrapped around his slim body to keep him steady. Rops of warm cum spill out of him, covering your hand.

Javier licked his fingers clean of your um. Without so much as a care to his own erection in his jeans, he picks you up and carries you to your bed. You’re sleepy… Why were you so sleepy? Javi didn’t need to ask, finding a night dress and pulling in over you on the bed.

“Javi, let me take care of you.” You ask, tiredly. He simply gets a warm cloth to clean you up.

Sliding out from behind Santi, you make sure to place plenty of pillows under him as he relaxes back. You wash off his cock, then get in the blankets with him. 

“What about you?” He asks, soft and sweet and so, so sleepy, his fingers going to the band of your pants, but you stop him.

“Sleep, precious boy.”

“Sleep, baby.” Javi kissed your forehead.

“But you didn’t even get off! C’mon, I’ll just hang my head off the bed-” You’re mostly teasing, smiling up at Javier and giggling, but he stops you.

“Rest.” It’s firmer now. “Consider this an apology.”

“Well can my apology also include you cuddling me.”

Javier smiled at that. “If you insist.”

You laid with Santi as he took a short siesta, finishing his time napping in your bed with you around him, your fingers trailing his perfect body, taking inventory  of every scar. He sure had a lot of burns on his arms for a career military boy. Maybe he was a cook in high school. Good boy like him would get a part time job… so responsible. You hoped you were able to help him let go of that responsibility, if only for a little. He deserved to be wild sometimes, even if he had a lot to learn.

Javi held you until you fell asleep, remaining fully clothed and fully closed off to you. When you woke, he was gone and to your relief, he didn’t try to pay you, outside of the poster he hung up for you. 

It was the first time you two had done anything that wasn’t transactional.

**************************

Thank you all for your patience, I was, WOW I WAS GOING THROUGH IT LMFAO IT WAS BAD. So I appreciate your patience as I get this out. You probably will not see anything from my as far as fics for like 2 weeks until finals are over since I am writing a fuck ton of essays. HMU in two weeks if you wanna learn about Aimee Semple McPherson or the satanic panic bc i gotta write a min 12 pages on EACH.

Anyway, until then, happy holidays! I hope you all have a wonderful and safe season celebrating any of the variety out there, or just enjoying time off, seeing family, or winter activities!

If you are in any of the horrifically dangerous areas in the world right now, know I am praying for you, and I hope you are safe.

Thank you to Fen, to Mona, to Clem, and all the people in the Oscars House Of Whores discord and the Pedro Pals discord for encouraging my insanity with these three!!! I really love the dynamics before Santi Javi and Candy and love writing this story, even if it takes me forever.

Since I like doing polls....

@runa-falls@lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbo @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleitte @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @nanfafnan @kirsteng42 @mrsjavierp @nanfafnan @lovable-liar @axshadows @cookielovesbook-akie

My inner freak has come out hehehehehe 😏😏

❥𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝒈𝒇 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝒘/ 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒛 💕 thanks to this edit:

@missusnora @eleanorbaybars

❣︎𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: （𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑠）𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔/𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝐷𝑂𝑊𝑁 𝐵𝐴𝐷 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚, ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛，𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘, 𝑚𝑎𝑛ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠✬𝑥, 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑝✪𝑟𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡，𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑖𝑙, MINORS NO😡

． ．．．

“𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐳’ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝒔𝒐, 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐...“

Innocently enough you were actually supposed to be doing something on campus. Yet here you are currently with your dress rucked around your waist, tongue kissing and grinding on your Blonde Babe™️ boyfriend.

Sorrows and prayers to your responsibilities.

He’s not even supposed to be in your room. Inside a strict all girl dormitory with rules against “gentleman callers” and such. Your concern for that, however, goes out the window when you feel his big rough hands feel up your body, thumbs teasing your hard nipples through your dress and trail down, squeezing your ass. He feels so good. And he’s so pretty…god you need him to ruin you.

“Mmmh- Joe-…”, you moan softly, pulling away from the kiss to look at him. Bad idea.

His half-lidded blue eyes are nearly black, lips swollen and shiny. “Wanna stop?”, he breathes out, the husk in his already deep voice adds to the heat inside of you.

“No-!”, stopping was the LAST thing you wanted, “I just wanna be on top this time”, having to choke the words out because of him suddenlu sucking wetly all over your throat. Moaning when his broad tongue licks up your jaw before slotting his plump lips over yours, kissing you deeply. Distantly aware of the fact that you’re dripping all on him as your eyes roll back into your skull. Body hot with every pulse of your cunt.

Joe isn’t opposed to you being on top but, you’re already so fucked out just from a little kissing and humping…

“Mmm okay. S’fine with me”, and that’s your green light as his voice paired with his gaze sends you into a frenzy.

Clothes can’t come off fast enough.

He’s so effortlessly hot that it’s unfair. And honestly, that’s how you two got like this. It was all his fault really. Sexy blonde hair, the constant bedroom eyes, goddamn tall, focused, and easygoing demeanor.

Naked and ready to rock his world, you give him a quick peck insisting you don’t need prep when he asks. Which is usually necessary since he’s so big all around. Broad chest and shoulders, thick muscled arms, thighs, and massive hands. Your fingers barely touch when you wrap them around him but it’s fine. You look up but he’s already looking at you.

“Y’need me to help ya put it in?“

Fuck, shit, hell, damnit, that’s the last straw and you sink down on him.

Gasping, it burns as he stretches you out, like actually hurts, but it hurts in the best way possible. Moaning in unison, Joe grabs your waist tight, suckling wet kisses all over your chest, breathing in your sweet scent.

You smell so good that he wishes he could bend you over and eat you every day.

The pleasure that rips through you has you gasping while you roll your hips and start riding him. His cock hits every spot as it fucks into your sopping cunt over and over. Your eyes water but you keep them on anything but him because the way he looks at you is too much. It’s bad enough that you’re so soaked it’s audible. Wet smacks, heavy breathing, and your near crying as Joe slams you down on his fat cock.

Sometimes he’s gentle but when you get like this he really can’t bother to be. Such a tight, soaked, little hole, with your mischievous doe eyes and sweet smiles…teasing him. Always such a cheeky little thing but it all stopped when he got you like this.

The groan that comes out of his mouth is sinful as he feels your walls pulse erratically around him. You’re close.

Grabbing your cheeks, he makes you look at him. The cockdrunk, dazed look on your face inspires something dangerous in him and he grinds his fat tip against that special spot inside you, hissing at the gush of slick that follows.

“Fuck me, that’s it. Y’gonna make a mess huh? Yeah. I know you are…cuz she’s squeezing me so tight”, he whispers hotly against your lips, taking the rough pad of his thumb to wreak havoc against your aching clit. Looking straight into your teary blown eyes as you cry for him.

“Shhh, it’s okay…thatsss it..cum for me sweetness. Let me have it baby”. Joe’s sultry low voice with the way he strums your swollen stuffed pussy makes you orgasm so hard it hurts. Whining and screaming through the almost endless waves of white hot pleasure, you don’t even notice Joe swearing, brows furrowed, biting his lip at the ring of cream around his base. There’s a possibility the whole dorm heard you and by the end of it, you’re boneless.

By the tume you come down, it takes a minute for the change of position to click until you see Joe above you. Smiling, he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth where you had drooled when he evicted your soul from your body, licking his lips after. (Like this man is a freak and I won’t hear otherwise)

“Wait-! Did you…?”, your hoarse question doesn’t linger in the air too long but Joe’s answer has that heat stirring up again.

“No…but don’t worry. I will, n’ this time, I’ll be on top….because I wanna watch it leak out of ya when I do. S’that okay, baby?” He swears he’s never been this hard in his life as he looks down at you dreamily. Soft, warm, and sated. Fuck.

But you? Are reeling.

Where did he learn how to talk like that?

Nodding weakly, it’s “whatever you want”. Gasping when he smacks the thick head of his tip on your clit, you spread your shaky legs wider. Ready for round 2 and that’s his cue.

Getting between your legs, folding your knees to your chest….

“So don't tap out on me just yet.”