d e v o n
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Janaina Medeiros
$LAYYYTER
wallacepolsom
we're not kids anymore.
tannertan36
đ©” avery cochrane đ©”
#extradirty
Xuebing Du
occasionally subtle
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Andulka
⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
sheepfilms
Three Goblin Art
Game of Thrones Daily
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
untitled
JVL
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from Poland
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from TĂŒrkiye
@pincushionheartt
Mobile Links!
These links should either open up in your mobile browser or open a browser page. The pages should be mobile friendly as well, but may need some scrolling and zooming.
AboutÂ
Alternative link for about
Rules
Alternative link for rules
Kink List
Tags
*someone threatens me with a knife* Me: jokeâs on you, now Iâm horny
Happy Friday sluts letâs do nothing and die
Home /Rules / About Nonselective SFW/NSFW Gore/drug use/violence 9+ Years of Experience Mun & Muse 18+
                     đâ đ»đŒđžđâ đđŒ đâđđđ
                                         but in life we fall
                      so let me hold you close, hold you tight
                                              đđđđ¶ đđŹđ«đąđ°
                                         one eye ahead
                       the other watching your ÊÉÉq
Dean lays on top of pin while they crash in a motel room. Not doing anything per say, just. Laying on him. Affection.
Half asleep, Pin reaches a hand out and absently pets Deanâs face. He contuses for a few seconds before he realizes what heâs doing, eyes going wide and hand hesitating. But a few seconds later, his fingers return, this time to gently cup at Deanâs face as Pin brings his gaze to meet Deanâs green-eyed one. He doesnât often get the chance to just...look at Dean like this, not without spooking the other male or having him try and skitter away. Sometimes, Pin wasnât sure which of them was worse with affection. Dean wanted it, but couldnât stand it, and Pin needed it, but would die before he asked for it.
Deanâs eyes were low, hooded and sleepy. Pupils while normally narrow and sharp, were round and unfocused. He was...relaxed. He had just laid on the other, letting his weight press Pin into the bedding. It wasnât to hold him down, to pin him, or to even start anything...just to...touch. To have that physical contact. Have that touch. He even pressed his cheek into that touch, eyes fluttering closed a little. A small smile peeked across his lips, a small sigh....and perhaps...was that a small hint of a purr? For just a moment?
When his companion didnât flinch away, Pin tried again, emboldened by the rumbling of what he assumed was a purr. His fingers raked through Deanâs hair and down behind his ear, then gently trickled up under his chin.
Light touches ghosted over his cheek, then his lips, before Pin went back to combing through his hair. His other arm tucked itself under Pinâs head, supporting the weight of it as he felt his eyelids droop, a comfortable drowsiness settling over the room. He didnât speak, losing himself in the warm press of Deanâs body against his, the rhythm of his fingers.
god i hate tougou
Meirl
A Sinnerâs Soul /open
Pin hadnât missed the foster home until heâd had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every fucking day since he got there. And then it was chores, prayer, chores, gardening, prayer, mass, and then? More fucking prayer. Timothy, big boned and plain faced, one of the boys whose parents actually paid for him to be there had offered to sell Pin some smokes from outside the compound for a crisp 20. Heâd settled for the handjob Pin gave him instead, the two of them stuffed in a broom closet. Timothy had looked at him all moon-eyed and tried to kiss him while Pin turned his face away and tried not to breath in the onion and liver sandwich Tim had eaten for lunch.
And then for mass that day heâd shown up with a bloody nose and a swollen cheek, an exchange for calling one of the older boys a âsimpering cocksuckerâ under his breath after the boy had all but jumped for joy when offered a job helping a high priest to clean the inner chapel. The priest leading the sermon had taken one look at him and immediately sent him outside, his face splotchy with anger, as if Pin had asked for his face to be beaten in like that. And really, he sort of had, and it wasnât totally his fault, not when that was the only way the priest would let him slip out of mass. He resisted the urge to flip the priest off as he shuffled out back, the sounds of the church filling up for mass behind him.
Scuffing his feet along the ground, he made his way to the back wall, where the priest would expect to find him the very second mass was over. If he was found anywhere else⊠Pin sighed, his knees still aching from his last ârepentanceâ. He huffed as he slouched against the wall, a fresh cigarette between his teeth and his fingers fumbling with his lighter. Dimly, he wondered if his favorite deacon was working the cellars that night. He was always willing to trade a bottle of spare wine or two if Pin got down on his knees for him to give him a very different kind of prayer.
He closed his eyes and blew a ribbon of smoke out, then scrubbed a hand across his still blooded nose. A noise to his left and he flinched, quickly hiding his cigarette behind his back and trying his best to blow his smoke cloud away. âH-hey, uhâŠmass is inside uhâŠIâm uhâŠâ Red faced, he looked away, mind reeling. âYou uhâŠdidnât see anything?â
The manâs warm, lithe fingers worked over the sensitive areas of Pincushionâs poor aching cock.
Damienâs free hand curled into Pincushionâs platinum hair, cooing to him softly.
âGood boyâŠIâll let you cum this time, think of it as a rewardâŠâ
His voice was like a white hot iron, searing his words against the otherâs skin. His fingers worked over the tip of Pinâs cock, squeezing and rubbing it sensually.
He felt like a man possessed, his body bouncing and writing against the other man. His hips thrusted into the sharp pleasure of hot fingers drifting over stinging welts, holding him just right, gripping him in a way that was rapidly making him come undone.
Pinâs legs shivered, then gripped onto Damienâs hips as he thrusted himself all the harder. Sobs or moans, he couldnât tell anymore, but his noises reached a fever pitch as his back arched, thighs tense. He came hard, hard enough to make his vision flicker black, his body still tingling even after his cum had spurted out itâs last rope of cum.
@brxkenhxarts-stxticmxnds
A Sinnerâs Soul /open
Pin hadnât missed the foster home until heâd had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every fucking day since he got there. And then it was chores, prayer, chores, gardening, prayer, mass, and then? More fucking prayer. Timothy, big boned and plain faced, one of the boys whose parents actually paid for him to be there had offered to sell Pin some smokes from outside the compound for a crisp 20. Heâd settled for the handjob Pin gave him instead, the two of them stuffed in a broom closet. Timothy had looked at him all moon-eyed and tried to kiss him while Pin turned his face away and tried not to breath in the onion and liver sandwich Tim had eaten for lunch.
And then for mass that day heâd shown up with a bloody nose and a swollen cheek, an exchange for calling one of the older boys a âsimpering cocksuckerâ under his breath after the boy had all but jumped for joy when offered a job helping a high priest to clean the inner chapel. The priest leading the sermon had taken one look at him and immediately sent him outside, his face splotchy with anger, as if Pin had asked for his face to be beaten in like that. And really, he sort of had, and it wasnât totally his fault, not when that was the only way the priest would let him slip out of mass. He resisted the urge to flip the priest off as he shuffled out back, the sounds of the church filling up for mass behind him.
Scuffing his feet along the ground, he made his way to the back wall, where the priest would expect to find him the very second mass was over. If he was found anywhere else⊠Pin sighed, his knees still aching from his last ârepentanceâ. He huffed as he slouched against the wall, a fresh cigarette between his teeth and his fingers fumbling with his lighter. Dimly, he wondered if his favorite deacon was working the cellars that night. He was always willing to trade a bottle of spare wine or two if Pin got down on his knees for him to give him a very different kind of prayer.
He closed his eyes and blew a ribbon of smoke out, then scrubbed a hand across his still blooded nose. A noise to his left and he flinched, quickly hiding his cigarette behind his back and trying his best to blow his smoke cloud away. âH-hey, uhâŠmass is inside uhâŠIâm uhâŠâ Red faced, he looked away, mind reeling. âYou uhâŠdidnât see anything?â
The manâs warm, lithe fingers worked over the sensitive areas of Pincushionâs poor aching cock.
Damienâs free hand curled into Pincushionâs platinum hair, cooing to him softly.
âGood boyâŠIâll let you cum this time, think of it as a rewardâŠâ
His voice was like a white hot iron, searing his words against the otherâs skin. His fingers worked over the tip of Pinâs cock, squeezing and rubbing it sensually.
He felt like a man possessed, his body bouncing and writing against the other man. His hips thrusted into the sharp pleasure of hot fingers drifting over stinging welts, holding him just right, gripping him in a way that was rapidly making him come undone.
Pinâs legs shivered, then gripped onto Damienâs hips as he thrusted himself all the harder. Sobs or moans, he couldnât tell anymore, but his noises reached a fever pitch as his back arched, thighs tense. He came hard, hard enough to make his vision flicker black, his body still tingling even after his cum had spurted out itâs last rope of cum.
Unforgivable /closed
@greatgrandchildrenofthestars
A day, a week, a month, Pin wasnât really sure how long it had been. He tried not to think about it, that wouldnât do him any good. Heâd already spent too many nights with his his head in his hands and a bottle of booze by his side, thoughts of Zach taunting him as he did his best to chase them away.Â
So how did he find himself here again, going on 3am, his head half bashed in and blood running down his face. Pin only dimly remembered coming into town, it mustâve been something real important because just the thought of coming back usually left him in a cold sweat. Everything was real fuzzy before the knock to his head, and even fuzzier after. Heâd trusted his stumbling feet, and when his vision had settled enough for him to even realize where he was, it was somewhere achingly familiar. He was standing, barely keeping himself steady, peeking into a window of what may have been a glance into his own memories. He remembered that bed, that floor, that dresser. Pin closed his eyes, and sank to his knees, unable to look away, but unable to make the first step inside.
The smell of coffee drifted in the air as Zachary stood in the kitchen, leaning over the counter, his lips pressed to the rim of a black cup.
His head was still an utter mess, too lost in his own mind to care enough to brush it out just yet. Steel eyes looked over at Pincushion, his eyes softening. âG'morning. Iâm over here,â he said softly, waving to him, âCan you walkâŠ?â He asked, eyes watching to see if Pin would try to get up, ready to catch him if he tumbled.
His shirt was ripped, sagging down over one shoulder, and he definitely didnât remember ripping it. Pin glanced down and wrinkled his nose. This...wasnât his shirt. A slow blink, and he turned towards the voice calling to him. It took him a moment, slowly swaying, eyes blinking.
âUm...yeah.â This time, Pin looked to his legs and stretched them out in front of him. Unbroken, and only mildly scraped, he wiggled his feet a bit. âYeah, why? Somethinâ wrong with mâ legs?â Groggy, he stumbled a bit as he scooted off the bed, his head throbbing as he gripped the sheets. â....shit. When did I get here?â
@brxkenhxarts-stxticmxnds
Other Friends
@pincushionheartt
Things.... tended to get a little tight. The two of them cornered, dean having shoved Pin into a dumpster to hide him away, They were so close. He hadnât any time to explain, but he was so so so scared. He kept apologizing, closing the lid and begging pin to stay there. Stay hidden; or heâd be hurt. The demon was.... shaking, as he backed up, and then jumped at the sounds behind them. Laughter. More demons, more devils..... âold friendsâ of deans. Dean held his finger to his lips, motioning for Pin to stay silent.... and he looked like he was going to cry out of terror alone before he turned to try and run down another Alley way, only to double back.
The group had split, doubled back and cornered him. Mocking words, sounds of belts coming undone as they walked closer.... cornering the demon in the dead end about ten yards away from the dumpster heâd thrown Pin into. The fun theyâd have... before They took him back to Him.
There was a look to Deanâs eyes that made a cold chill go down Pinâs spine, his face falling, wary fear replacing worry. Silently, he stepped back, hands trembling at his sides. He swore he could still feel Deanâs hands, warm and rough across his skin. His eyes that had been foggy with sleep, shy with cat like affection as he glanced at Pin still haunted Pinâs mind.
This...this wasnât Dean. Heâd been staring at him the entire time, well, almost the entire time. Whatever had happened in the few seconds heâd looked away....
Pin let out a slow breath and nodded, then turned and started sprinting towards the rough direction the Not Dean had gestured for him to go towards.
