#Thomas Pound

[graphicpolicy]

Preview: Earth Prime #6

Earth Prime #6 preview. A threat has been amassing forces from across time and universes. Their plan is to finally free humanity from their dependency on these so-called heroes #comics #comicbooks

[zappedbyzabka]

Now add this one to the photo and we are SET👀🫡

[cephalog0d]

Batfic - "Musical Costumes"

Rating: Teen and Up (Language)

Category: Gen

Relationships/Characters: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd & Tim Drake & Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas & Damian Wayne & Barbara Gordon & Alfred Pennyworth; Dick Grayson (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Humor, Banter, Batkids Being Batsibs

Words: 1,057

Summary:

There was a quiet moment before Jason felt the prickle of eyes and looked up from where he'd been absently scratching lines in the arm of the chair (sorry Alfred) to see the collective attention of the room placed on him.

"Absolutely fucking not," he snapped vehemently.

(Full text after the cut or over on AO3)

"-so someone will have to be spotted as Nightwing a few times for the next week or so," Bruce's briefing concluded. There was a quiet moment before Jason felt the prickle of eyes and looked up from where he'd been absently scratching lines in the arm of the chair (sorry Alfred) to see the collective attention of the room placed on him.

"Absolutely fucking not," he snapped vehemently.

"You are the closest-" Bruce started.

"No I'm fucking not!" Jason gestured at his own torso to emphasize the point.

"Height-wise you are," Steph added very unhelpfully. "Weight wise it's more…equidistant," she conceded with a loose wave between Jason and Tim.

"Technically Duke is the closest but I think even Gotham's criminal masterminds might notice that," Tim threw out, pedantic as ever.

"What, because I'm a meta?" Duke asked with an impressively straight face.

"Yes," Tim said in the same flat tone. Cass only barely tried to muffle a laugh. Steph didn't try at all. Jason chose to ignore all of them, glaring defiantly at Bruce, who mostly just looked like he wanted a nap. Or a child free vacation. Whatever, it was his own fault he kept collecting more and that they were all awful.

"No," Jason repeated. "I am not running around in that stupid suit just because Dickhead managed to break himself showing off."

"That is not an accurate-" Damian interjected, predictably jumping to Dick's defense in absentia.

"You have before," Cass interrupted him neatly. Her expression was a lot more controlled than Steph's, but her eyes were bright with suppressed laughter.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jason said pointedly.

"Dick's current suit isn't even that bad. It's not like you have to wear the old Robin suit. Again," Tim said mildly. Jason narrowed his eyes at Tim, who met his gaze unflinchingly and took a slow, deliberate drink.

"Boys," Bruce cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Jason decided to temporarily let it go and ignore both the way Tim smirked behind his cup and Steph's quiet "oooooh".

"Do it yourself," Jason challenged Bruce, earning a burst of laughter from the rest of the room. Bruce's expression did the constipated thing that usually meant he was at least mildly regretting his choices in family. Good.

"Oh my god please do, I will pay so much money to see that," Steph gasped breathlessly.

"Stephanie." Bruce's reprimand, predictably, did nothing to silence her.

"Father has his own duties as Batman," Damian said snippily.

"Additionally, I do not believe Master Bruce's joints would appreciate those kind of acrobatics," Alfred added as he appeared and started clearing things off the table.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said with another sigh.

"Cass can do all that flippy bullsh-oot," Jason hastily corrected when Alfred glanced at him.

"Are you saying you can't?" Cass asked sweetly.

“Of course he can’t,” Damian scoffed not all that quietly.

“Damian,” Bruce said. Cass ignored them both. She met Jason's glare for several seconds, just smiling and waiting.

"I know what you're doing," Jason finally said, jabbing a finger at her.

"But it's still working," Tim muttered.

"No, it's not."

"It's okay if you can't," Cass said sympathetically. "I can."

The right answer was to leave it at that and walk away and Jason knew that, he wasn't an idiot and he didn't have to prove anything to these assholes, he should just get up and leave and let them sort their shit out amongst themselves, they were manipulating him, Cass with her disingenuous smile and Steph with her barely restrained laughter and Tim with his infuriating little smirk and Damian with his condescending sneer and Duke just watching them all with amusement while he finished his post-patrol sandwich.

But.

That spiteful little thing in his chest that had guided so many of his most ill advised decisions in the past had taken hold and just because he knew they were baiting him didn't mean he didn't still want to prove them wrong.

"Fine!" he snapped finally. "Fu-reaking fine!" Alfred gave him a knowing look but didn't say anything about the slip. "I refuse to do the stupid puns, though." He could at least draw that line.

"It's okay if you're not clever enough to do that part," Tim said with a condescending pat on the arm. Jason very maturely did not break his fucking fingers, but he did bare his teeth in what was only barely a smile.

"I'm going to glitter bomb your apartment. Emphasis on the bomb." Okay so not that mature, so sue him, Tim started it. Tim opened his mouth, presumably to say something even more inflammatory, but got interrupted.

"Boys," Bruce said again, more sharply. “Tim, leave your brother alone. Jason, thank you for your assistance. Stephanie, whatever you’re planning don’t.”

Steph made an affronted noise and widened in her eyes in a comically innocent expression that did not fool anyone for even a second.

“Right, well, some of us have been up all day,” Duke said as he stood. “Good luck, Hoodwing.” He left the room, grinning, as Tim choked on his drink and Bruce sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Hoodwing?” Cass repeated thoughtfully, testing out the word. “Redwing? Nighthood?”

“I like Nighthood,” Babs’s voice spoke up. None of them would admit to being startled, but several of them did perhaps sit up a little straighter at the sudden addition.

“Have you been listening this whole time?” Jason asked, and immediately mentally face-palmed.

“Jason.”

“I know, I heard it when I said it.”

“Anyway, I’ve got some alerts that need looking into, if you’ve all decided who’s wearing what costume.”

“No one else is swapping costumes,” Bruce said sternly. “Everyone go get ready. Oracle, tell me what you’ve got.”

There was a brief scramble of finishing drinks and snacks and everyone broke to go gear up. Steph had a scheming look that Jason absolutely did not trust in the slightest but she was dragged off by Cass before he could get a further read on it.

A few minutes later, though, he got a text.

((I have a whole headcanon that people swapping costumes temporarily is just a commonplace thing for Secret Identity purposes, because half of them are public figures, so if one of them gets injured or has to travel as a civilian they'll get one of the others to be spotted in their suit while they're out so nobody puts together "This Bat doesn't show up when this Well Known Public Figure is out of town/obviously injured".

(Hey remember in Batgirl: Year One where Bats made Dick dress up as her to throw Gordon off her trail?)

Of course, some people make better duplicates than others.

(Tim is referencing the fact that in the comics, Jason was fully wearing a copy of his old Robin costume, complete with the lack of pants, during their infamous Titans Tower altercation. Because I will never let go of that fact, it is absurd, absolute drama queen Jason Todd, what a doofus, I love him. Cass is referencing in preboot Nightwing where there was an arc where Jason was running around murdering folks in a Nightwing costume to undermine Dick.)))

[ur-not-reddie]

god i wanna write newtmas again soooooooo bad 😩

[bitter-goodbyes]

I weighed myself earlier and I lost like 3 pounds!!!!!! I’m so unbelievably happy!!!!! Just!!!! Aaaaaaaaa!!!!!

[real-life-cloud]

:(

[writersinasinglesentence]

#117: Ezra Pound

I went to Possum of London because I had observed that tyrants are most efficient in all that they set their hands to, but was unable to persuade Possum to any amelioration.

[batgovernor]

Poems on poets: A.M. Juster, 'Houseguests'

There’s shouting by the stove (it’s Plath & Hughes) as Wystan wanders off without his shoes and Whitman picks the Cheetos off his beard. The Larkin-Ginsberg chat is getting weird, for after countless hours they have found bizarre pornography is common ground. Old Emily is not As prim as billed— When Dylan finds her bra-hooks— She is thrilled. Poe strokes his bird; Pound yawps that it’s a pity…

[fideidefenswhore]

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Return to Me 2000

[noxcheshire]

I just think

It’d be really neat if Danny looked more like Martha Wayne than Thomas Wayne.

LIKE

I love the Danny Fenton looks like Thomas Wayne or Danny Fenton is Thomas Wayne reincarnated — but the BEAUTY of Martha??

Of Alfred interacting for under five minutes with Danny, dabbing his eyes and going, “That is indeed Martha,” I WANT IT. I want Martha who was spunky and sassy and wanted to do good for her town the same way Danny wants to do good for Amity Park.

I want Martha who loved to take Bruce and the family out to star gaze because her baby had never seen the stars before, and the way his eyes light up like a mini galaxy takes her breathe away the same way that Danny feels when he turns his head up to the sky yearning for something he knew loved but doesn’t know what.

I want Martha who would literally find trouble in a paper bag because she can’t help her curiosity the same way Danny can’t help tripping over his own ghostly tail and making a mess of things before he figures things out.

I want Martha who would fight men who thought they held power, going absolutely feral from stress the same way Danny does when he’s tired of not being able to do his homework or pick up a vacuum against the wall to clean because ghosts.

I want Martha who loved the pearl necklace that Bruce had picked out for her birthday, and Danny reaches towards his neck and startles when his fingers only touch skin when he is certain there was something supposed to be there. I want Danny whose eyes linger on whites and pearls when he passes by open window stores in the mall, fingers itching to flick a nail against the smooth surfaces.

I want Martha who died bleeding underneath the hand of a gun, hoping to everything above that her boy would be safe, and Danny whose body burns at merely looking at the makeshift guns his parents create in the lab, his heart pounding desperately with a yearning to save there was someone she wanted to save the ghosts.

[toxicanonymity]

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

-

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step. The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask covered his chin too, but not his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

-

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

[iluvzaddies]

drunk confession

pairing: thomas shelby x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight nsfw

summary: thomas shelby walks into your bedroom in the middle of the night and confesses his love for you.

you awoke from your slumber after hearing the door to your room suddenly open in the middle of the night.

you felt your heart pound through your chest, scared that it was one of billy kimber’s men, ordered to harm you as a way to get back at the peaky blinders.

but you needn’t fret for it was only thomas shelby.

thomas was the leader of birmingham’s renowned gang, the peaky blinders, and the second eldest son of the shelby family.

you knew him when he was a young lad. he used to be a troublemaker, always bringing trouble everywhere he went. he laughed a lot too.

you, on the other hand, used to be a loner. you didn’t have a single friend whatsoever. you were always alone, a sad look plastered on your face as you watched other kids getting along and playing with each other. young tommy felt bad for you, therefore, offered to let you play with him and his siblings. from then on, you became close and formed a bond, not only with him, but with his siblings too.

it was sad how much things have changed after the war in france.

the horrors of the war had changed him drastically.

he became a soulless, empty shell.

but there was one thing that didn’t change, and that was his feelings for you.

he always felt a sense of peace whenever you were around. you were a breath of fresh air and a reminder of his childhood days, where he hadn’t gone to the war yet, where he didn’t live a life of crime, where everything was normal.

he didn’t want to admit it, though. he was never good at expressing himself…

…until tonight.

“tommy!” you gasped. “why are you here?”

“because i can.” he said nonchalantly.

“just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” you huffed in frustration.

he shrugged.

“how did you get in my house?”

“key under your doormat.” he drawled, approaching you drunkenly.

you let out a squeak as he collapsed on your bed, nearly crushing your legs.

“okay, congratulations for knowing where i keep my house key, but that doesn’t give you the right to just barge in my house.” you looked at the clock on your wall, checking the time. “especially at three in the morning, you dimwit!”

“‘m sorry… it’s just… i’ve been thinking about you.. a lot– actually, an unhealthy amount. i couldn’t help it. i just wanted to see you again.”

“what?” you blinked.

“you heard me.”

“yes, i did, but…” that was unexpected. “what exactly do you mean by that?”

“by god, woman.” he sat up and you flinched when he started to yell. “how fucking oblivious are you? i’m in love with you, for fuck’s sake!–“

you covered his mouth, shushing him, trying to get him to calm down. you were already dealing with a drunk thomas, who barged into your home uninvited, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with noise complaints from your neighbors.

“please, quiet down, will you?”

he grabbed your wrist, prying your hand off his mouth and guiding your hand to his cheek. he closed his eyes, sighing in bliss, reveling in the warmth of your touch.

“tommy.” you muttered under your breath.

“i mean it, (y/n). i love you. i’ve loved you ever since we were kids.”

was it true?

was it really true?

well, you were aware of the saying: “drunk words are sober thoughts”

and that made your face heat up.

“i–“ you gulped, trying to build up the courage to confess, so he didn’t think it was one-sided. “–i love you too, tommy. i’ve loved you ever since you offered to let me play with you when i had no one to play with.” you moved your thumb up and down his cheekbone. “you may be a dangerous gangster to the world, but you’re just tommy to me. my tommy. you think you’ve changed, but deep inside, that innocent, kind-hearted little boy is still there.”

thomas’ lips curved up, a genuine smile on his face.

you widened your eyes.

it had been so long since he smiled in such a way that you had forgotten just how beautiful it was.

he leaned towards your face and connected your lips together. you were caught off guard, but happily obliged and kissed him back.

he tasted like a mix of cigarettes and whisky. nonetheless, it was amazing.

he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. he entwined your fingers together and with his other hand, he pulled your body against his.

he proceeded to gently place you on your back, with him on top of you, not breaking the kiss for a second.

“fuck, i love you.” he said in between kisses. “i love you so much. i’ve been dreaming about this moment my whole life.“

he roamed his hands around your body whilst you raked yours through his hair.

he pulled away just to get a quick glimpse of your messy appearance before reconnecting your lips.

he slithered a hand under your nightgown and you moaned as his fingers made contact with your clothed clit, rubbing it through your undergarment until a wet patch formed.

he moved your nightgown up to your stomach, fiddling with the elastic band of your undergarment, and yanked it off. he reached down to touch your bare pussy, inserting two fingers inside. with how wet you were, he was able to put them in with ease.

your moans were becoming louder each time he thrusted and curled his fingers against your walls, so you clasped a hand on your mouth to prevent any more noise from spilling out.

he stopped and demanded, “no, let me hear.”

“my neighbors–“

“if they even think about coming here and ruining this, i’ll fucking send them six feet under.”

he scooted backwards, placing his head in between your legs. you could feel his hot breath hitting your core and your core clenched. he darted his tongue out, licking a long stripe up your clit, before attaching his entire mouth onto it. he sucked harshly, eating you out like he was a man starved, making your eyes roll back at the insane amount of pleasure he was giving you.

your vision turned white as the coil inside of you intensified into a powerful ball of energy. and then it bursted, the ecstasy setting all your nerves ablaze.

it felt good, so so good.

he crawled back on top of you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself.

then, he pulled away once more to admire his work.

he loved the way you looked beneath him.

how swollen your lips were.

how breathless you were.

how red your cheeks were.

he loved knowing that your current appearance was caused by him and only him. rightfully so.

“all for me, eh?”

his deep, sultry voice sent shivers down your spine.

“all for you, tom.”

note: help, my unexperienced ass doesn’t fucking know how to write nsfw content. this is so bad.

[yzashaven]

he's so drunk on the feeling of your pussy around his cock that despite going on for who knows how many hours, with all the strength he has, he keeps pounding into you. begging you to let him continue fucking you until he really can't anymore. he doesn't want the feeling to end, he doesn't wanna be separated from you. he wants to fill you up until his cum overflows from your pretty cunt.

"...one last roundㅡ ah! feels so... so good... want more... more of you, please?"

kazuha, venti, aether, tighnari, albedo, thoma, diluc, kaveh, zhongli, xiao, gorou, heizou, dainsleif ♡

praises you sooo much. calling you his 'good girl' and tells you that you're doing so well as you take all of him deep inside your dripping wet pussy. he makes sure you're comfortable first and 100% okay with it. his thrusts are gentle, sweet, and slow but the way he reaches your deepest areas with ease drives you crazy. to which he responds by giving you more and more, fucking you faster each second.

"you're doing so well... fuck! just like that... good girl, taking me in so well..."

kazuha, kunikuzushi, thoma, ayato, diluc, albedo, childe, tighnari, zhongli, pantalone, baizhu ♡

degrades you to oblivion. fucks you so hard and so good. literally turns you into a hot, drooling, whimpering, moaning mess for him right then and there. would probably laugh at your state too, calling you a pathetic and needy whore. but you're his pathetic and needy whore <3 choking you and spanking you every now and then. would even slap your pussy or pinch at your clit after you cum since he knows how sensitive you become after an intense orgasm. throughout the hours of the night, he kept fucking you with that same exact fast and rough pace, not slowing down or stopping. no, that's for the weak.

"you love it when i fuck you like this, yeah? the way your greedy cunt sucks my cock in is so fucking addicting. you really are a slut for me, huh?"

scaramouche, childe, kaeya, ayato, cyno, heizou, itto, kaveh, alhaitham, dottore, capitano, pierro, pantalone, dainsleif, abyss!aether ♡

[wanderingconstellations]

feral sex with your favorite men. where they're so down bad, absolutely feral over you that they're just pounding into you over and over again till your cryin and babbling about how good his cock is. he litters bites everywhere on your body, marking it all up with love. he manhandles you and fucks you on all fours, shoving your face into a pillow while panting about how much he loves you. you're beyond from comprehending anything, all you can think of is his wonderful dick that's turning you into mush <33

— diluc, KAEYA, CHILDE, xiao, ITTO, gorou, thoma, kazuha, HEIZOU, KAVEH, cyno, tighnari, WANDERER, neuvillette, dan heng, LUKA, sampo + any of ur fav fictional men 💗💗

[q1ngqve]

ᝰ HOW YOU LIKE IT DADDY !

✶ 𓏲ּ ꩜ 𓂅 genshin men and their favorite positions <3

CW; fem! reader, vaginal penetration, sex positions, dacryphilia, breeding, manhandling

MISSIONARY

ayato, heizou, kaeya, lyney, pantalone, wanderer

missionary is not vanilla or boring when it comes to them, especially not when you're crying and begging them to stop when its too much. but do they listen? of course not. why would they when they can see every face you make when you're high on on the feeling of their cock buried deep within you?

laughs and coos at you tauntingly, asks you to speak up whenever you whine their name, telling them they're "too big" and that you're "so full". they will not stop until they have you crying so much tears that your cheeks and the pillow beneath you are stained wet.

COWGIRL / REVERSE COWGIRL

baizhu, dainsleif, diluc, tighnari, venti

loves this position because they can grab at your thighs and hips, also because they can lean back and watch you work hard for your orgasm while still being in control. they'd be so touchy in this position, hands never leaving your body, every inch of you will be caressed by them.

if they're into reverse cowgirl, you're in for a treat! also wouldn't stop touching you, but they would especially target your ass. they're absolutely obsessed with the way it looks whenever you bounce or grind on his dick, trying to make yourself feel good.

PILEDRIVER

albedo, itto, kaveh, kazuha, pierro

putting you into this position just makes them feel so so so good! they can't hold back the primal instinct to breed you while your legs are on his shoulders, and you just physically cannot move, completely in their mercy!

having your legs in the air and body bent meant that they're deeper in you than usual, head of his dock kissing your cervix with every thrust. probably goes a little feral every time you clench around him and ground yourself by grabbing onto his arms.

DOGGY

cyno, gorou, neuvillette, thoma, xiao

doggy but it usually ends up with you lying flat on your stomach, face buried in the mattress or pillow below you, trying your best to breathe. pounds into you so hard you're practically sinking into the bed with him holding your ass up and fucking himself into you like an animal in heat.

meant to do it fifty percent of the time, but the other fifty percent usually happens unexpectedly when they're so lost in the feeling of you pussy and just can't get enough of you. grunts so much, especially when your legs give out and he has to support your whole weight from your hips as he ruts into you.

ALL

al-haitham, capitano, childe, dottore, wriothesley, zhongli

so strong that they easily manhandles you into every other position they feel like at that specific moment. you'd start with missionary and the next second you're in doggy, they'd even hoist you up like you weigh nothing and push you against the wall, lifting you up and fuck you so hard you see stars!

also the type to be so mean about it, knows that you like being manhandled by them, and so they'd tease you each time they do it, smirk so big you want to slap it off of their face. but who has time for that when you're basically like a toy to them, so pliable and all for them to use.