Damned

Patrick's hips snapped forward sharply, burying his cock to the balls inside Shannon’s tight ass. The desperate plea — “Cum inside me” — hit him like gasoline on fire. He was completely lost in the feeling. Shannon’s hole clenched around him, hot and slick with lube, gripping every inch of his throbbing dick as if trying to milk him dry. Patrick’s muscles flexed, sweat dripping down his chest as he fucked into him harder. “Fuck… Shannon,” he growled low, voice wrecked with lust. His fingers dug into Shannon’s hips, pulling him back roughly onto his cock with every thrust. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Patrick could feel his orgasm barreling toward him, that deep pressure building fast. He leaned over Shannon’s back, teeth grazing his shoulder as he drove in deep and stayed there. With a guttural groan that tore from his chest, Patrick came hard. Thick ropes of cum pulsed violently into Shannon’s ass, flooding him with every powerful spurt. Patrick kept thrusting through it, short and greedy, pushing his load deeper inside him. He didn’t pull out — he stayed buried to the hilt, cock twitching as he emptied every drop into Shannon’s tight heat. “Shit… take it all,” Patrick panted against the back of Shannon’s neck, voice hoarse and possessive.

❝ Harder, ❞ came Shannon's graveled, gutteral moan a few moments later as he managed to spread his knees just the slightest bit further apart and push his torso down into the mattress - offering Patrick a better, more delicious angle for those brutal thrusts. Each one sent the swollen, throbbing head of Patrick's cock bouncing off his prostate so hard all he could see was stars.

Scalding, white-hot heat pooled in his lower abdomen. That familiar, painful coiling had definitely begun in earnest in the depths of the pit of his stomach. His hands were fisted violently in the sweat-soaked sheets beneath them - his knuckles blanched a deathly shade of pale. His back hurt. He'd be laid up in their bed for a few days after this, but he didn't care. He'd been desperately needing this for so long now..

❝ Ohhhh, ❞ His own massive, impossibly thick cock was hard as steel and had wept an ocean of precum already - most of which was smeared against his stomach and abdomen - but he didn't dare touch himself. He needed to feel Patrick cum deep inside him - to breed him, first. Then, and only after he was certain he'd been filled with every single drop Patrick had to offer, he'd probably jerk himself off - hopefully with Patrick still buried to the hilt inside him.

❝ — You're so close, I can feel it, baby. ❞ He panted out, then bowed his head and closed his eyes, squeezing their lids shut painfully tight. — That was a split-second before Patrick's final, especially brutal thrust into him.. the one that made his arms give out, dropping his torso the rest of the way down to the mattress and buried his face in one of their pillows.

into Shannon’s hips, holding him in place as he gave one deep, possessive grind of his own, pushing his cum even further inside. A low, guttural sound rumbled in his chest.

“Yeah… I fucking love it,” he rasped, leaning forward over Shannon’s back. His lips brushed the shell of Shannon’s ear, voice dark and hungry. “Love filling you up. Love knowing you’re dripping with my cum… that you’re gonna stay full of me for days.”

He stayed buried deep, savoring the wet heat and the way Shannon’s hole fluttered around him. His cock was still half-hard, twitching inside that perfect, cum-slick grip. The thought of Shannon keeping every drop — of plugging himself up right after so nothing escaped — sent a fresh wave of heat through Patrick’s body.

His hand slid up Shannon’s sweat-slick back, fingers threading into his hair as he tugged his head back gently, forcing that hazy glance over the shoulder to become eye contact.

“You’re mine,” Patrick growled softly, punctuating the words with a slow, deliberate thrust. “Every inch of you. Gonna plug you up nice and tight so my load stays right where it belongs… then you’re gonna clean my cock with that pretty mouth while you get yourself off. Yeah?”

He kissed the side of Shannon’s neck, teeth grazing skin, before pulling back just enough to watch the way his own cock stretched Shannon’s hole — shiny and glistening with their combined mess.

“Oh my God…” he whispered, voice cracking with a mix of shock and overwhelming happiness. A bright, teary laugh escaped him as he reached out, gently cradling Shannon’s hands in his own.

“Yes,” he said again, softer this time, but steady and sure. “I already said yes, but… yes. A thousand times yes.”

He watched, heart pounding, as Shannon slid the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly. Patrick flexed his hand slightly, admiring the way it caught the light, then looked back at Shannon with pure adoration.

“You’ve been carrying this around?” He smiled, wide and a little shaky, brushing his thumb over Shannon’s cheek. “I love you so damn much. I can’t believe this is real… that you want forever with me.”

Patrick leaned forward, pulling Shannon up from the floor and into a deep, lingering kiss. His arms wrapped tightly around him, fingers threading into his hair as he poured every bit of joy and love he felt into it. When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against Shannon’s, still smiling.

❝ — Yeah, ❞ came his sheepish murmur as he brushed the pad of his thumb back and forth along the ring a few times, silently delighting in the feeling of it there on Patrick's finger. ❝ It's real, baby. It's real.. and I want this - I want us more than I've wanted anythin' in a very long time. ❞

Patrick let out a soft, breathless laugh against Shannon’s lips, his arms wrapping tightly around him as the older man settled into his lap. He held him close, one hand sliding up his back while the other stayed at the nape of his neck, fingers gently threading through his hair.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, voice thick and warm. “So much it’s stupid.”

He pulled back just enough to look at Shannon properly, eyes shining as he glanced down at the ring on his finger again. His thumb brushed over it, still a little stunned.

“You really planned this… carried it around waiting for the right moment.” Patrick smiled, soft and full of wonder, then leaned in to kiss him again—slow, deep, and full of everything he felt. When he finally broke it, he rested their foreheads together, breathing him in.

“I can’t believe you’re mine. That we’re actually doing this.” His voice dropped lower, almost reverent. “I’m gonna marry you, Shannon. We’re gonna have a life together, no matter what tries to get in the way. I’m all in. Forever.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, so now you’re embracing the DILF title? Good. Because yeah… the silver looks hot as hell on you. Makes you look distinguished. And dangerous. And stupidly fuckable.” His voice dropped lower on the last word, playful but heated.Shane’s expression softened as he listened to the rest, his hand sliding up to rest over Billy’s heart. He nuzzled into the kiss on top of his head before tilting his face up to look at him.“I like being your exception,” he said quietly, sincerely. “I like that you don’t like people… but you let me in anyway. That means more than you know.”

He shifted in Billy’s lap so he was straddling him more fully, arms looped loosely around his neck. A mischievous little smile tugged at his lips.“And hey… if my ‘super fuckable ass’ and kissable freckles are what pulled you in, then I’m not even a little sorry.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Billy’s ear, whispering, “You can kiss every single one of them anytime you want, old man.”Shane kissed him then — slow, deep, and full of heat — before pulling back just enough to rest their foreheads together again.

ASK

The bass pulsed through the club like a living thing as the Count stepped inside, the heavy door sealing out the night behind him. Neon lights cut jagged patterns across the writhing crowd, but his dark eyes sliced through the chaos with sharp focus. Tall and composed in his black coat and open-collared shirt, he moved like a shadow among the glitter and sweat-soaked bodies. He had no interest in the pulsing dance floor or the strangers grinding against one another. He had come for one person only.

He wove through the crowd with predatory grace, ignoring the occasional brush of hips or wandering hands. His senses caught the faint trace of Tristan’s cologne mixed with alcohol and cigarette smoke. The bathroom corridor was dimly lit and relatively quiet. He pushed the door open just as Tristan stepped out of a stall, phone still glowing in his hand, cheeks flushed from the shots and the heat of the dance floor.

The Count leaned one shoulder against the tiled wall, his gaze locking onto Tristan with unmistakable intensity. A slow, cool smile touched his lips.

“So you missed me.”

He had been trying to keep from cumming ages ago, The Count’s firm, tight ass was more than he had expected and it felt divine. HIs knees began to shake deliciously as Tristan began to pick up speed, helping the Count’s orgasm and his own.

With a grin, Tristan pulled the Count back against himself. His back slammed against the stall behind him, bringing the Count with him. Using the cum, he jerked the Count’s cock vigorously even after he had already shot his load for him as he pumped himself inside of him. 

Letting out a strangled, guttural groan, Tristan pumped his load deep inside the Count’s tight asshole. The squelching, moist sounds that he made with each slow, withered thrust were vulgar. “Oh my fucking god!” Another groan slid through his parted lips, his hips now circled deliciously slowly, listening to the sounds they made together while also enjoying the after shocks of their collective orgasm. “You’re so fucking amazing!” The silly laughter bubbling to his lips and spilling over. 

“I can’t wait to get fucked that good.”

shuddering moan as he felt Tristan’s cock pulse deep inside him, flooding his tight hole with hot, thick cum. The wet, filthy squelching sounds of Tristan’s slow, circling thrusts only made him clench harder around him, greedily milking every last drop.

“Fuck… yes,” the Count breathed, voice raw and wrecked. His body was still trembling from his own orgasm, pressed back firmly against Tristan’s chest as they leaned against the stall. He could feel the warmth spreading inside him, Tristan’s load leaking slightly around his cock with every lazy movement.

He reached back with one hand, gripping Tristan’s thigh tightly, holding him in place while he savored the feeling of being so thoroughly used and filled.

A low, breathless chuckle escaped him at Tristan’s giddy laughter and praise. The Count turned his head just enough to look at him over his shoulder, eyes dark with satisfaction and renewed hunger.

“You filled me so well,” he purred, voice husky. “Such a good boy… pumping all that cum into your dirty slut.”

He deliberately clenched around Tristan’s softening cock again, drawing out another slick sound. Then he slowly straightened up, forcing Tristan to slip out of him. A trickle of cum leaked down his thigh as he turned around in the cramped stall, facing Tristan with a dangerous, predatory smile.

The Count grabbed Tristan by the jaw, pulling him into a deep, possessive kiss, tasting the alcohol and ecstasy on his tongue. When he pulled back, his lips brushed against Tristan’s ear.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he whispered, voice dripping with promise. “Fucking me raw in a dirty club bathroom like a desperate animal.”

His hand slid down between them, giving Tristan’s spent cock a slow, teasing stroke before tucking him back into his pants with surprising care.

When Spike let out that deep, shuddering sigh and finally released the last of his tension, Patrick smiled against his damp hair.

“There we go,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of Spike’s head. “Let it all go, love. You don’t have to hold anything right now. Not tension. Not pride. Not even thoughts.”

@pittresilience

Shane stares at Jack for a long beat, his expression flat except for the faint furrow between his brows that deepens the longer the other man talks. The monitors beep steadily beside him, and he shifts slightly against the pillows, wincing as the movement pulls at bruised ribs.

He lets the silence stretch just long enough to be uncomfortable before exhaling through his nose.

"...Truth," he says finally. His voice is low, a little rough from disuse and whatever pain meds they're pumping into him. He meets Jack's eyes with the same stubborn calm he's been wearing since they brought him in, though there's a reluctant glint of amusement buried under the exhaustion.

He lifts one shoulder in a minimal shrug. "Ask your question, then."

His tone makes it clear he's not exactly thrilled about playing games in the middle of the ER, but he's even less thrilled about the alternative—actually explaining how he ended up here.

The quiet doesn't last long. Shane's smirk appears, and Jack immediately points at him again. "See, that's exactly the kind of answer that makes me suspicious." The corner of his mouth twitches. "Normal people don't answer 'what's the dumbest thing you've ever done' with an existential crisis."

He shakes his head, leaning back slightly on the stool. "That's advanced-level bad decision making. That's not amateur hour. That's years of dedication to the craft." His tone stays dry, but there's no real judgment behind it. If anything, he sounds impressed by the commitment.

His gaze stays steady on Jack, thoughtful but still guarded. After a long pause, he speaks, voice low and a little rough.

He slid one hand lower, massaging the tense muscles of Spike’s lower back and hips, while the other stroked soothingly across his chest. The hot water and glowing sigils continued to pour gentle magic into Spike’s body, easing the surface aches while leaving the deeper, more intimate ones intact.

Patrick felt the lazy drag of Spike’s hands over his thighs and smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

“You’re still stroking me even half-dead,” he teased gently, voice warm with affection. “Greedy thing.”

He tightened his arm around Spike’s waist, holding him more securely against his chest as the vampire’s hips floated slightly in the water. Patrick could feel the subtle shift every time Spike focused on the deeper ache inside him — the one that would linger long after the bath.

“Good,” Patrick whispered against his skin, low and intimate. “I want you to feel me every time you move tomorrow. Every time you sit. Every time you think about what I did to you.”

His fingers worked a little deeper into a tight knot in Spike’s shoulder, easing it with patient care.

“But right now,” he continued softly, “you don’t have to think about anything. Just let the water and my hands take care of the rest. Close your eyes. Drift if you want. I’ve got you.”

He still stroked at Patrick's thighs, even as he was being told he was greedy. It was in gratitude that he couldn't put into words. He knew the succubus wasn't as fond of giving than recieving, so he wanted to make up for taunting him for Spike's own needs. His fingetips brushed to gently caress Patrick's member.

The permission to not think and just be cared for released a shuddering sigh within him, he hadn't realized he'd been holding, as he felt Patrick's arm hold him firmly across his chest.

When Spike let out that deep, shuddering sigh and finally released the last of his tension, Patrick smiled against his damp hair.

“There we go,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of Spike’s head. “Let it all go, love. You don’t have to hold anything right now. Not tension. Not pride. Not even thoughts.”

jennifer for tate or kit

“That’s not true, Jennifer!” Tate refused to believe that, yes he loved her demonic, filthy side and he loved how she had to eat boys to survive, he didn’t judge. But he also loved the girl he knew from school, the one who would tease and flirt with him at school before he died in this hellhole. He didn’t want to lose that part of her, that part of their relationship.

“Jennifer, listen to me, you gotta snap out of it. Fight harder against whatever it is that's trying to claim you.” Tate turned and grabbed her, shaking her lightly and hoping to shake some sense into her. Stopping abruptly, a thought popping into his brain as he looked down at her and shrugged. “I have an idea. What if we kill you, in your most sane moment, we kill you in this house and then we can be together, forever.” The delusions of how easy life could be, how simple it would be to keep her soul with his own, trapped her forever instead of in Hell where both of their souls belonged.

Tate took Jennifer violently, their howls and moans reverberated through the old and empty house. Holding her down on his lap, knuckles strained as he pushed her down again, harder this time. He absolutely loved the sound she made when he penetrated her. Pushing his hips up and meeting her thrusts, pound for pound. Tate’s hands had been at her hips, clutching them for dear life before sitting up, one hand tangling into her soft, luscious brown hair while the other wrapped tightly around her neck. “Tell me how you like it, baby.” 

The hand in her hair tightened, the tips of his fingernails digging into the base of her scalp as he used this technique to hold her against him roughly. “Fuck—you feel so fucking good.” Tate leaned in, his mouth opened wide as he latched a hold of her shoulder, teeth digging into her collarbone. He could bite too, he could claw and tear his way through her flesh just as easy as she could. He was tempted to show her, but he craved her teeth against his own flesh much more. He wanted his blood, his gristle and flesh inside of her. 

The hand that held her throat, slid up a couple inches, clutching at her chin as he held it firmly, his knuckles turning white from the effort. He held her there, moving her head from side to side and showing how he had complete control over her upper form, while she still could move her bottom half easily over his cock. “You see that baby? I own you.” Tate leaned in, his mouth opening as his tongue slid out. He gently flattened it against her jawline, running it up towards her eye socket, marking his territory. “Now that I have you under my grasp.” He whispered, pulling her head and mouth down towards his shoulder and collarbone. “C’mon and bite me… You know you want to.”

All these words, images, flashed inside of his brain. The sounds coming from Jennifer were barbaric and horrendous but they only made his dick harder while inside of her. “Fuck—yes!” The sound of ripping flesh, his flesh, filled his ears as she began to devour him. Tate could feel the tension her teeth created when biting down, he could feel the drool run down his shoulder as her mouth unhinged and opened slightly wider to take him in. 

Blood ran down his back in hot, thick bands. Moving easily, Jennifer was still over him as he turned them fast. Slapping Jennifer down on her back as Tate brought his hand to her throat, holding her down the best way he thought she’d like before continuing. 

In a swift movement, they had disconnected only for a moment, as he plunged back into her with a grunt and a hard thrust. His other hand came up to grip her left thigh, pushing her leg up and at an angle, allowing him better access. The tip of his cock hitting her cervix over and over and over again in his relentless pounding. Both hands holding different parts of her body, “Cum for me, cum for daddy, you pretty little bitch.” 

In the next second, he leaned down towards her shaking form beneath him. His lips inches from her ear as he whispered, “Yes babygirl, I do fucking own you. Every fucking last part. When Daddy says cum, what does babygirl do?” His fingers tightened at each part of flesh he gripped, one hand at her throat, the other at her thigh as he pounded harder. The slaps were relentless; hot and wet, juices coated his inner thighs and balls but Tate didn’t mind. He found it so fucking sexy. With a groan, he knew he was close, the speed picking up for a third time. “Ugh! Yes!”

He shifted even closer, ignoring Beau’s crossed arms entirely, and hooked his chin over Beau’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He turned his head to properly look at Patrick then, eyebrow lifting as he listened, biting down briefly on his bottom lip as if holding back another comment before the smirk returned and he closed the space between them just long enough to steal a quick kiss, pulling back almost immediately with a laugh, “Can you shut the fuck up?” he asked, shaking his head, “My god. I thought that mouth was good for something but you go on, man. You rant a lot,” the teasing sharp but clearly affectionate in intent.

He turned fully toward him, one arm sliding behind Beau again — this time deliberately, fingers tracing lazy little circles against his back.“You kiss me just to tell me to shut the fuck up?” Patrick teased, voice dripping with amusement. “That’s cold, man. Here I thought my mouth was good for a lot of things. You seemed pretty into it the other night when it was busy doing something else…”He leaned in close again, lips hovering near Beau’s, eyes half-lidded and sparkling with mischief.

“And yeah, I rant. But you love it. Otherwise you wouldn’t keep letting me talk until you have to kiss me quiet.” Patrick smirked, brushing their noses together. “Go on, do it again if you want me to shut up so bad. I dare you.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, uncrossing his arms and letting them drop to his sides. His shoulders slumped just a fraction in reluctant defeat.“Fine,” he muttered, the word tasting bitter but necessary. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Giovanni’s gaze for a second before forcing himself to meet it again. “I’ll listen. Just… tell me what you want me to do.”

He kept his tone measured as he leaned into the conversation, watching him closely, “Do you think you can help gather information for me?” he asked first, testing the waters, then narrowing his eyes slightly as he continued, “Do you think you can come with me to a meeting?” his voice steady but intent, before adding, “Be a second pair of eyes and ears?” as if framing it as a practical necessity rather than a request.

“Yeah… I can do that,” he said, voice still carrying a trace of reluctance but no real fight left in it. “I’ll help gather whatever info you need. And I’ll go with you to the meeting.”

Patrick shifted on his feet, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll be your second pair of eyes and ears. Just… tell me the details. When, where, what I should be looking out for.”He met Giovanni’s eyes again, this time without the earlier defiance, though a faint stubborn edge still lingered in his expression. “I’m in. Just don’t leave me in the dark.”

second one was overdose. “

"I'm sorry to hear that."

I bet he's heard that a thousand times.

He said. There was a slight undertone of things that he knew that nobody could do anything to stop the slight pain he would feel even after all this time. Especially after his mother’s death.

“Is on the past.”