#mild spice

So how about that Halloran sandwich? 😏

Pennywise does not share.

STEDDIE SUNDAY ONE SHOT (wc: ~1,000 | Rated: R) Spice level: 🌶️🌶️

They were sharing a cigarette in the back alley at Family Video one night after Steve’s shift. Robin had just locked up for the night she cocked her eyebrow, giving Steve a questioning look before she got in her VW Beetle and drove off. It had all been innocent enough. Just two dudes having a smoke.

Until it wasn’t.

Steve couldn’t ignore the weight of Eddie’s heated gaze. He looked like a boy waiting for just the right moment to ask for something. Steve had a feeling he knew what that something was. Because the truth was, he wanted it too. The thought punched a feeling of fear right to his gut.

“What’s that thing people do?” Steve said, breaking the silence between them. Eddie’s brows pinched together.  “Shotgunning?” Steve asked.

Now Eddie’s brows shot up. “You’ve never shot gunned before?” He chuckled.

Steve smirked. “Of course I have. But like – not from a joint. And since you’re here I thought that maybe . . .”

“Oh, you wound me Harrington.” Eddie feigned a shot to his chest. “I thought you’d think more of me than some small-town dealer. Am I always expected to have a spare joint on me at all times or something?”

Steve flicked his spent cigarette into the night and gave him an incredulous look.  

Eddie reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a joint. “But of course I have one.” He snorted a laugh.

Steve chuckled and Eddie snuffed out his own cigarette under the toe of his sneaker. Their eyes met and Eddie placed the joint in his mouth. His stare was unyielding as he lit it and gave it a hearty pull. The tendrils of smoke escaped his full lips and danced in front of his brown eyes before dissipating into the night air. 

“Come here.” He muttered low and smooth.

There was always something so enticing about sharing space with Eddie. Like a coil twisting tighter inside him. That coil took hold of his heart when Eddie moved a step toward him and their chests touched. It was the closest he’d ever been to Eddie and the scent of pot mixed with spearmint and spice pleasurably filled his nose.

Eddie watched him closely, his eyes softly tracing over Steve’s features and the jock wondered if Eddie could feel the way his heart was pounding.

Steve’s gaze wandered to Eddie’s lips just as the metal head mumbled an astonished, “shit” under his breath as he took the proximity of Steve’s face close to his. Then he blinked out of his stare and took another long pull of the joint and leaned in.

Steve knew the routine. His lips parted and he softly gasped as Eddie’s mouth got closer.

The first drag was smooth. Steve inhaled deeply but it wasn’t so much the marijuana that he savored. It was the essence of Eddie. The subtle brush of his lips against Steve’s made parts of him react in surprising ways.

Eddie gently pulled back and his eyes were an intoxicating mix of curiosity and desire.

“Not bad Stevie.” Eddie smirked. He winked before taking another hearty pull from the joint.

Steve’s whole body warmed. He fixed his gaze on Eddie. When the metal head leaned in again Steve pulled him forward by the collar of his jacket and connected their lips in a deep kiss.

Steve felt Eddie’s body tense in shock but then his mouth relaxed and he melted into the kiss, a satisfying groan rumbling from his chest. Their hands roamed and pulled each other impossibly closer.

The world seemed to fall away.

Moments later . . .

“Oh they say I’m the risk taker but look at you honey.” Eddie’s voice was breathy in Steve’s ear. He had the jock pinned to the stucco wall, right next to a tower of cardboard boxes that Steve had unloaded that day. Eddie had his hand down Steve’s jeans, letting him fuck into his hand. “You don’t care who sees or hears you do you sweetheart?”

Eddie’s words go straight to his dick. He wanted to tell him to shut up but everything about Eddie was having an effect on him. He was going to come fast. He could feel it racing toward him. He gripped Eddie’s shoulder and rutted his hips, a whine building in his throat.

Eddie pulled back to watch him. Steve was infuriatingly pretty on any day but right now, all flustered and pink cheeked, Eddie felt a tingle building in his spine and aching dick. He greedily pressed his crotch into Steve’s thigh to ease the ache.

Steve let out a soft gasp, and he squeezed his eyes closed, muttering what Eddie thought were a string of expletives and then and quick “fuck.” Wet heat spilled over Eddie’s hand, and that tipped him over the edge.  He rubbed his crotch against Steve’s leg and let low moan.

They stayed that way, pressed against each other and not knowing what to say. Finally, Eddie said,

“Well, that happened.”

Steve’s body stiffened. He gently moved Eddie’s hand away and tucked himself back into his jeans. Eddie cleared his throat, taking the hint and straightened and took a step back, giving Steve some space.

Steve looked around that parking lot and let out a breath. “We don’t have to tell anyone about this.” He mumbled.

Eddie nodded his head solemnly. A shot of disappointment crept along his face.

“I’m just saying – this town is . . .” Steve started to say.

“No, I get it man. It was a one time thing.” Eddie removed the flannel he was wearing and wrapped it around his waist to hide the stain on his pants. “We got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

Steve looked like Eddie just slapped him. “No . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

“Don’t sweat it Harrington.” Eddie steeled himself and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Shit happens when you’re high.” He said nonchalantly. He turned and started for his van. “I’ll see you around.” He called over his shoulder.

Steve watched him go. The van pulled out of the lot, sending misty tendrils of the fog spiraling in its wake. Steve had what felt like a dozen words caught in his throat. The red lights disappeared out of sight as the van curved the road.

Steve took a deep breath, then he got into his Beamer and drove after him.

Wind rustled through the trees, sunshine warming the well-worn paths of the Green Hills, and Sonic bounced eagerly on his feet in front of a cute two-story cottage nestled in the valley, surrounded on all sides by flowers in a rainbow of colors."Ames?" He called.

"Around back, Sonic!" Sonic jogged around the side of the cottage, admiring the blooming roses climbing up the side but grinning brightly at the sight of his favorite Rose stretching, her pink quills shining in the afternoon sun. A large sandbag hung from an iron post in front of her, but Sonic wasn't concerned with it at the moment. Dark emerald eyes hungrily roamed over strong shoulders, slender hips, and powerful thighs, all pleasantly exposed thanks to the scarlet tank and shorts that had replaced her normal red dress. He couldn't resist.

The squeak that left Amy's lips was answered with an amused, throaty chuckle against her ear, as the hands that had come down on her waist curled over the elastic waistband over her shorts. Firm thumbs stroked the smooth fur where cream met pink, and Amy's eyes fluttered as sparks shivered up her spine when Sonic whispered. "Nice threads."

Amy swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, her head reflexively falling back against Sonic's shoulder with a thunk, her pulse jumping when his warm breath ghosted across it. It shouldn't surprise her as much as it did— how Sonic could reduce her to a quivering mess so easily. She had a track record, after all, of falling apart whenever he was near… but now that she was his… A single touch could melt her into a puddle. A word transformed her body into a live wire. All for him, only ever for him.

What were they supposed to be doing again? It didn't seem important, with Sonic's hands on her body, tracing her curves and making her nerves sing. With his mouth on her neck, her ear, feather light and maddeningly avoiding the place Amy truly wanted it, and she chased it when his breath warmed her lips. His hand curled around her jaw, holding her in place, and she whimpered in protest. "Ah, ah, I'm not done admiring your outfit yet." He teased, the jerk. Amy jolted when his lips came down on her shoulder, pushing the strap of her tank down to her bicep. "Very nice. I wonder how much better it would look on the hanger-,"

Screw it. Amy spun around and shoved at Sonic's chest; too startled, he failed to stop his descent and landed with an undignified plop on the sparring mat Amy had dragged out for the now-abandoned training session. Red to his ears, Sonic only watched with wide eyes as Amy climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, and slammed her mouth down on his with such a ferocity it was all Sonic could do to grab her waist and hold on tight. She tasted like strawberries and mint, and Sonic eagerly chased that flavor on her tongue, pulling her taut against his chest and tangling his fingers in her quills to hold her in place.

But this was far from what Amy wanted. He may have gotten his fill teasing her, but now… the tables had turned, and Amy was going to have some fun of her own. She pulled away from his mouth but latched onto his jaw, his neck, and collarbone, alternating from harsh nips to playful pecks, delighting in the gasps and groans that rumbled beneath her hands. Sonic's hadn't moved from her waist, and that just wouldn't do. Pulling back to smirk in his face, her dark eyes glinting with mischief, she gripped his wrist and pulled his hand to the small of her back… where his fingers would brush the fabric of her shorts just above her tail. "A-Ames-?" Sonic whispered, his entire face the same color as his sneakers, and Amy giggled.

"You wanted to admire my outfit." She purred, leaning back into him to lick a stripe from his pulse to his ear with the tip of her tongue. "So admire it."

She had all of five seconds to get a grip on his shoulders, feeling the full-body shiver that trembled his fur, before her peals of laughter were silenced by the slamming of her back door… the training session long forgotten.

“Self Restraint”

Jason Todd x GN!Reader one shot

He’s been holding himself together all night. It’s the one unthinking touch that makes him realize how close he is to losing control—and why he won’t.

Special thanks to @demigod-jack-hearth for this ask. Hope it meets your expectations ❤️

⚠️: emotional stress aftermath, grounding and support, charged proximity, restraint, unresolved tension

✍️: Request fill for my 400 follower event 🖤This one explores control, care, and the moments where restraint matters most. Thank you to everyone who’s been here and supported my work.

The safe house is quiet in the way places get after something has already gone wrong.

Jason moves through the space like he always does—efficient, contained, all sharp edges filed down to something functional. He checks the windows. Locks the door. Shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair with deliberate care, like order might settle his nerves if he’s precise enough about it.

You’re still here because he asked you to stay.

Not with words. Just a look, over his shoulder, tight and unreadable. You followed anyway.

A bit of a spicy patreon request of clothes ripping (which I kinda took a little loosely). Despite the fact it's very sketchy with the linework, I really like how it turned out.

I’ve been sitting on this for weeks and I’m so excited to finally share my digital painting for Garreth Weasley Fest 2024 ❤️ My prompt was Blindfold. Whoever submitted that one, I hope I did you proud!