#& it would be really fitting & tie everything together in a satisfying way but

[raiiny-bay]

i thought of an ending to the monster boyz AU but i hate it

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship headcanons

Content: pre-relationship headcanons, introvert reader, pining.

ღ The first meeting isn't reminiscent of any kind of whirlwind romance. You meet him through work or, possibly, through the same leisure spaces that you both frequent; a particular cafe, or maybe a bookstore. You take note of him, but wouldn't dream of casually approaching someone with his demeanour.

ღ Your conversations start with pleasant formality, pleasant on your part, at least. His tone is always clipped and professional, his voice beautiful to listen to, but carefully controlled. His body language seems closed off and his eyes are always concealed behind those glasses.

ღ You may start to gradually take note of him more often. Not because you're struck by his handsome appearance (Nanami is too reserved and understated in everything he does to represent the romantic hero). It's more a case of seeing him, where you didn't take notice of him before. Strange. He must have been around for a long time.

ღ You may learn his name and profession (true profession, since you are an affiliate of Jujutsu Tech). The information you learn doesn't provide much substance. His sorcerer grade, working schedule, career history and areas of operation don't tell you about him. And, you confess, there is something about him that does draw your curiosity.

ღ You finally muster the courage to speak to him more often. The first few conversations go much the same way as the first. There are exchanges of greetings and he then seems satisfied with silence. You find, surprisingly, that his silences are neither judgemental, nor awkward. He merely exists in the space beside you, and that's all right.

ღ Space. You find yourself in his space more often than not. Are you doing this on purpose? Is it really an unconscious desire that draws you to the places where you know he may be? You don't know. But you can sit in the break room and read comfortably with him there. You can eat your lunch in his presence with ease and feel good in the knowledge that he appreciates his food as much as you do. You can do a crossword, after a long day, while waiting for the next shift to start, and you may feel his eyes tracking your pencil as it moves across the page.

ღ The first time he initiates conversation with you, it surprises you, but you're accustomed to his presence by now. And so, your interaction with him is easy, flowing into a soft rhythm that ebbs and flows as you two occupy space together and talk about many things that come into your minds.

ღ And it is now, when you're this close to him, when you can feel the fabric of his sleeve brush against yours, when you can smell the clean, simple scent of his cologne, when his voice dips slightly in amusement (had it ever done that before?), when he takes off his glasses and polishes them with a small cloth and then looks up to meet your gaze, hazel eyes softer in their glance than you expected, it's now that you realise that you're hopelessly attracted to this man.

ღ Change sometimes comes as softly as the dawn, stealing over the lip of your balcony. A fitting comparison, since you now think of him every morning and wonder if he had woken up on time, whether he had cut himself shaving, whether his toast was perfectly done or his coffee piping hot, whether he'd knotted his tie in a rush or taken the time to watch the sun rise, like you have. You think of him on the way to work and wonder if he has a particularly difficult mission lined up today.

ღ You know enough about this line of work to pull your thoughts away from the idea of injury or death. He had chosen this line of work. You've learned enough about him by now to know that he wouldn't take the responsibility lightly, nor would he be reckless in terms of the risks.

ღ It may also be the reason that you decide to hold this feeling, cradled like a delicate flame, intimately and secretly close inside you. This traitorous little flame that threatens to betray you, through the softness in your eyes when you see him, in the ready warmth of your smile when you share the break room, in the new unsteadiness of your hand when his gaze follows the progress of your incomplete crossword.

@tsukimefuku @actuallysaiyan @kentocalls @g-kleran

[theeonlyroman]

This was inspired by @kitkatscabinet forced fuck fic, follow them for content! ❤️

Part 1: Everyone falls

Before everything had took a turn for the worse you were with Kyle too which Price knew about but had chose not say anything because of the potential he had saw in you both and the fact that regardless of your relationship it did not interfere with the teams overall dynamic and efficiency.

Price is especially fond of you often times thinking of you as a favored protege or a daughter, it’s somewhere along those lines.

Ghost has a not so secret thing for you which had started out entirely innocent, before you and Kyle had gotten together Soap would often encourage him to try to take things further and ask you on a date but it almost never worked out.

But you and Kyle had fit seamlessly together in a way that made sense and had came so naturally that the chemistry was so unreal. You both had brought the best out in one another and others had often viewed you both as endgame.

It made Ghost feel insecure and had caused him to shut his own feelings down for you as a way of protecting himself.

Sadly Task Force 141 would soon be torn apart at the hands of Makarov and his protege Nikolai.

Nikolai had infiltrated the 141 under the guise of William, who was from the rural area of Rutland in the East Midlands.

Over a period of time “William” had gained the team’s trust (not really Ghost) and had made himself an integral member of the task force. But little did you all know that all of Williams action’s were deliberate and meant to lead the 141 into a carefully planned trap.

Both he and Makarov had captured you, Ghost and Soap and rather than kill you both he had decided that he would much rather send all three of you back broken beyond repair to Price especially you, Price’s most favored.

But Makarov had decided to let his protege Nikolai make the choice of what form of torture he’d like to enforce, it wasn’t until then that all three of you had saw his true colors.

Nikolai had raised a gun to your head instructing you to strip bare in front of your teammates to which you did but he wasn’t satisfied and was rather miffed that you did so with a steely, guarded face.

His eyes drifted to Soap refusing to look at your bare body out of respect for you, not only as your teammate but most importantly your best friend.

It was then a sick, smug grin slithered across his face, he turned his attention to Soap and slowly walked towards him and tilted his head with his gun underneath Soap’s chin.

“Hey Soapy bitch? Isn’t she a fine woman? I can see why Gaz is so how you say “touchy” with her” his grin seems to grow even wider as he looks out of the corner of his eye and sees Ghost angrily clench his hands together

Nikolai looks back to Soap and coldly looks at him in the eyes and says

“I want you to rape her”

And it was in that moment you could feel the atmosphere grow colder as if Death was looming not far away from where you had stood but you refused to break under Makarov’s cold, indifference.

“Fuck you” Soap says and Nikolai gets up with a shrug and soon points his gun to your head and before he could pull the trigger Soap screams reaching for Nikolai but is soon shot in the head by Makarov.

Soap falls before you and Ghost, his once shiny blue eyes now dull and devoid of life.

You want to cry, you want to reach for his body and beg for him to come back but you can’t, you can’t because you know that it can mean the end for you too.

Out of the corner of your eyes you can see Ghost, you can see his resolve slowly crumbling as his best friend lays before him but before you and him know it Nikolai’s screeching laughter interrupts your shared feelings.

“Oh I know I know how about this!” He calls for more men and they surround Ghost and he instructs them not to kill Ghost but make sure you watch what they are about to do.

They brutally beat him, Nikolai tells him that if he fights back they won’t even bother raping you they just tie you to the back of their truck and drag your bare body across the ground till your nothing but scraps.

So he takes every kick and every punch but the one thing he won’t do is scream, cry or beg and little by little he feels that what’s left of him his slowly breaking as he watches your resolve break. Now he doesn’t see you, he sees a broken, frightened woman crying; you almost reminded him of a child if it weren’t for the fact that you were naked.

He wishes that you didn’t choose this way of life, he wishes that he had the courage to finally confess his love for you. He wishes to tell you that Soap said you’d both go good together, he wishes that Soap was his best man and that he was alive. Ghost wishes for so many things but in some sick twisted way he knows that those dreams would never come true. Soap is gone and he doesn’t even know how far gone you are and he doesn’t even know if he has the strength to pull you both from this.

Finally once this is over and he wakes from consciousness he can hear you screaming for him to wake up and he looks at you and sees you still standing, shivering and he sees Nikolai sitting there waiting for him to wake up.

“Have a nice rest lover boy? Thought you’d never wake up, we were almost gonna have some fun with the pretty baby but looks like you beat us to it”

Ghost shuts his eyes breathing heavily trying to steady what’s left of his resolve and shakily gets up

“Oh my! Look at you! Good for you big boy doing all the hard work of lifting you for us we should make you one of us!” Nikolai laughs and he walks towards you and his cocky nature calms, it turns more sadistic and he waits for Ghost to stand at his full height.

“Cause we’re not done because now your gonna TAKE her and your gonna thank me for it because even the flys on this wall know you want her and if you don’t well tsk tsk maybe I’ll cut parts of her off and feed her to you and in a way that’s pretty romantic don’t you think?”

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Best Of Montana

Featuring Sen. Jon Tester

My name is Russell Teague and my companion Sam Morgan are Montana's ambassadors for the Young Gay Montanians program, and we've the trek all the way to DC to share our essays and ideas about helping gay montanians. Both Sam and I had a thing for older men so we decided to take up our senior senator from Montana, Jon Tester's open invitation to stop by his office for any Montanans visiting the nation's capital. I really hoped we would hit it off, even though I knew nothing would happen, I was still getting randy just in anticipation. Finally, after meeting his receptionist, there he was with a warm smile on his face and a strong handshake.

Damn, he sexy man for his age, not fitting the modern profile of the Senate, sporting a flat-top haircut, big bellied (which I didn't mind on a man), six feet tall and pushing 300+ pounds. My cock twitched immediately as we sat in his office and made the usual “how was the trip?” type of conversation before talking about our program. During our discussion, his eyes would often meet mine. I began to notice his entrancing eyes, and I would find myself admiring his 66-year-old figure. His ill fitting suit, scuffed black boots, his callused, seven-fingered hands, his a direct manner, the way he addressed us with our last names and his repeatedly swearing, all I found oddly appealing.

During our conversation, we talked about everything from school to life in general. He told us about his 1,800-acre organic farm that he and his wife, Sharla, work together. With that being said, I suspected he might be interested when he said he had always had a strong fancy for men, but had kept that side of his nature fairly latent until he got to D. C. and he was now discovering the delight of good M2M friendships and sex. After admitting that, our conversation turned into how Sam and I would satisfy him if I got him into my bed.

Sen. Tester flashes a big grin, and without missing a beat, asked, "Have you two ever done two guys before?"

Both of us simultaneously answered, "Yes."

All of us were getting interested and I could feel my juices building as I blurted, "Are  you interested?"

"Yes, as long as we all have fun. And kept it between us."

A feral smile arose on me as we anxiously agreed and stood up in front of the senator. Both of were semi hard as Sen. Tester locked eyes onto the slight of the bulges in our pants. Sam had a lovely fairly thick 7” cut cock, while mine just scrapes by at 8” slim and uncut.

"Oh, I guess I'm in fucking trouble now, seeing I have the two of you to deal with..." Sen. Tester said as I dropped to my knees in front of him.

Sen. Tester spread his legs as I began rubbing up and down his thighs while Sam removed his tie followed by unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his chest and ample belly. Both of us started to explore the senator's body with our hands, rubbing and caressing every part of him. Sam was lightly caressing the flesh of his man tits while I grinned up at the two of them, raking my hands along the upper slopes of Jon's thighs as he parted his legs even more. On the next pass I unbuckled his belt followed by reaching down and pulling off his boots. Jon ran his hands through my hair as I grabbed the legs of his pants and began to pull them off. Jon put his hands on the arms of the chair and lifted up so I could get them all the way off.

Noticing his beefy calves on his smooth legs, I ran my hands over them, enjoying every curve before pushing my face into Jon's boxer shorts and began massaging his cock with his mouth through the shorts. He shuddered in pleasure as I took in his musky smell. Sam was enjoying himself too, nipping at the lobe and ran the tip of his tongue along the crease of the senator's ear. Both of us heard the senator let out a deep breath and when he released it, it was followed up by a long, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"  

Sam moved to the other side and gave his neck and ear the same treatment as his hands circled around Jon's thick body and closed around his firm, pert tits. He used his fingertips to tease and tug at his stiffening nipples. And the more Sam nibbled at his flesh and teased his tits, cause Jon's legs drifted even further apart, offering his ultimate treasure for me to feast upon. I was encouraged when I felt him shiver and release a long groan, "Ohhhhhhhhhh yesssssssss, suck my fucking cock!"

Quickly, I put my fingers in his shorts and slowly slid them off his legs as I kissed Jon's tubby tummy. I was rewarded with a pretty decent cock. It was about 6 inches, thick, veiny and most importantly, hard. I lowered my head and inhaled Jon's intoxicating scent before licking it from the bottom of his shaft to the tip as he shuddered in pleasure. Then I put my mouth over his throbbing cock and began to suck the senator off. I could feel the veins on his cock as my lips glided up and down. His salty precum hit my tongue and I looked up at him.

Jon let out a gasp, but it was cut off as he and Sam's lips met. It was a gentle kiss at first as they relished in the heat of their mouths on each other. Sam's hands clapped down harder on Jon's heaving chest and his lips parted. His tongue moved past his and met his tongue in her mouth. Jon returned Sam's kiss with the same intensity. He arched his back and released another groan as my hands slid beneath him and clutched at his ass so I could take him deeper.

Sam immediately resumed playing with the senator's nipples as I bobbed up and down Jon's cock. I was spurred on by his louder, more vocal sounds escaping from his throat. The smell of musk and sex filled my senses and it was intoxicating. His hands gripped my shoulders as if he wanted me to stop, but I wanted it. I wanted his cum. I wanted his satisfaction. He thrusted his hip as he could no longer hold it in anymore.

Suddenly Jon grabbed me by the hair and fired his load down my throat and with his loud groan I had finished him off. I doubled my efforts as I continued sucking his cock and drank down all he could expel. Jon couldn't take it any longer and he pushed my head as hard as he could; breaking the vacuum I had created.

"Give a guy a chance to recuperate, I'm game, but I need a tiny break." He groaned.

Sam chuckled and said, "I want some of that Russ."

"Wait a fucking minute or two. I'm not letting anyone get back down there until I get some feeling back in my legs! Holy Fuck Teague, that was fucking fantastic, truly fantastic." Jon said shaking his head as he tried sitting up.

"My pleasure, senator!" I said as I the few drops of cum that escape my mouth.

"If the two of you are adamant about continuing this, I'd much rather do it somewhere more private. I'm not a person who likes to put on a show; heaven knows you two already did."

After getting dressed, we made our way separately to Sen. Tester's Capitol Hill townhouse he rents for "meetings" like this when his wife is in D.C.. By the time we got to Jon’s townhouse, he was ready and waiting. Once in, I made the first move, leaning in to kiss him.

"Maybe we should take this to the bedroom."  Jon said as he led us to his bed room.

Jon's burly body was too resisting, so I kissed again. Quickly, he started unbuttoning my shirt, unzipping my pants, and basically tearing my clothes off as he moved his tongue around inside my mouth. As my clothes fell to the floor, I pulled his pants down, unleashing his mammoth dick and balls. It was at full staff as Sam and I admired it. And just as I was about to get my hands on it, Sen. Tester quickly sat on the bed, drew my erect cock towards him. He smiled when he felt my cock twitch in his fist before taking a a deep breath and parting his lips, wrapped them around the huge head and locked his lips tightly around my quivering shaft.

"Oh Sen. Tester..." I moaned as , Jon grabbed hold of my ass and clutching at it in his callus hands, pulled me towards him, taking him deeper into his mouth.

Jon wiggled his lips until they were pressing against my nut sack before gagging and pulling back quickly. I saw the excitement course through him as he bobbed up and down my cock. He looked up, saw the amazement on our faces and winked at us as he resumed focusing on me. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have him milk me.

But I was being selfish, so I finally pulled my cock out of his mouth and turned his face to Sam's cock. He fed his cock to Jon, forcing his throat down deep on his cock. This married man was a ferocious cock hound. He couldn’t get enough of sucking cock as he went back and forth sucking our cocks.

Ready to take things to the next level, I took control and told Sen. Tester to get up on the bed on all fours, anticipating a cock up his ass. I quickly kneeled on the bed behind him with his ass up for me to reach. He stiffened when he suddenly felt my tongue tickling his puckered hole.  

"Fuck, boy." He said as I began probing the senator's asshole.

I stiffened my tongue and dipped in and out of his hole over and over again, making sure to get it properly lubricated. I was lucky my cock was still coated with Sen. Tester's saliva as I wasn't about to wait any longer than I have to fuck him. Feeling me getting into position behind him, Sen. Tester began swaying his ass from side to side in anticipation of getting fucked. It was like he was a matador waving his flag at me before I grabbed a hold of his wide hips and charged into him; spearing Jon with his one stiff horn. He was tight, but Jon was so wet, I slid in easily. I pulled back and forward a few times and as I did, I felt him relax and it slid in all the way to my swollen nuts.

Sen. Tester rolled his head from side to side. He'd been fucked before, but having my cock turned him on even more. His mouth dropped open as he drew in as much air into his lungs as possible. Then Jon straighten up his arms; allowing the incredible sensation of my cock to slide in and out of his supercharged ass.

"Get that fucking cock over here. I need you in my mouth while Teague finishes off in me."

Sam quickly position his crotch just before the senator's hanging head. Jon grabbed hold of his shaft in his fist, holding it at the base. He examined it and his mouth began to water, anticipating it in his mouth and throat as I picked up the pace. Just seeing what was about to occur, turned me on even more. I loved spitroasting a guy; having him nailed from both ends. I thrust into Jon harder, sending my swollen nuts slapping over and over again against his swollen hole.

As Jon closed his lips around my cock, he let out a groan, finally having both of our cocks in him at the same time. Sam to fuck the senator's mouth as he watched me fuck him from behind. I could tell he was impressed with the senator as he watched his big, lush body take both cocks in him at the same time. He caressed his cheek before saying, "You are one hellava cock sucker Sen. Tester."

"You can say that again. I nearly lost it a couple times, but now, this, having him as he sucks you, I'm not gonna last long." I said as I slapped his ass lightly.

Hearing this, Jon spread his legs out wide and arched his spine, trying to make me grind over and over against his aching ass. The three of us created a passion circuit without any means for it to escape; it just grew stronger and hotter. I thought I was the luckiest man alive as Sen. Tester buck his hips, meeting my urgent thrusts while sucking on Sam's cock even harder.

"Oh you fucking bastard! Yes, just like that! Ahhhhhh Fuckkkkkkkk! Fuck me, fuck me hard, I need you to fill my ass with your cum!" Jon growled out after tearing his mouth off Sam's cock.

I lost it, hearing the senator say what he did, especially knowing what a powerful man he was. I lost it and began bathing his ass with my hot cum as I clutched at his ample hips.

Just then, the dam gave way and a strong orgasm ripped through Jon, causing him to release his load beneath him. It also caused him to doubled his efforts on Sam. Tightened fist and opening his mouth, he swallowed all that was visible above his fist. Sam threw back his head as I wasn't the only one turned on by the senator's obscene vocals. He was so close and watching me fill him with my load and watching Jon lose it, so did he. He grabbed hold of his head and pushed it downward as he began to send blast after blast of his hot cum down his throat and into his belly.

Jon began to cough and gag as he pulled away and was rewarded with a face full of hot cum. It clung to his cheek and ran across his and down his neck. Sen. Tester was now having both of us cumming on and in him at the same time. My thrusts begin to weaken as I shivered from the aftermath of one of my greatest day, sexually, I've ever experienced.

[bethhiraeth]

A literary reading of byler

so in school (and outside of it) most of the subjects I am taking and my interests are some form of literature, so I thought I'd share my thoughts on byler from a literary analysis standpoint

when you are analysing literature, it can be divided into three major buckets: narrative, aesthetics and text. Let me quickly break down what they actually mean

Narrative: This one is pretty self explanatory. It is how the overall structure of the story fits together, including plot, character arcs, and all that big picture stuff that spans the whole text.

Aesthetic features: Also sometimes called stylistic devices, they are the artistic elements that contribute to the text, often adding new meaning/emotions/ideas to it. In the case of cinema, these are pretty much everything you see on camera, like lighting, costuming, props, camera angles, etc. Often these are used to establish literary techniques such as symbolism or narrative foils.

Text: This one is also pretty obvious- it is all the words and actions of the characters. Dialogue and movement are what primary make this up. Think of it as anything in the script (or what the actors say/do if it is improvised), and any directorial choices relating to that.

What I find so interesting about byler is how it has tons of supporting evidence in all of these. What you will see with most ships that are non-canon is that they have a few bits of 'evidence' in one, or two at most, of these categories. Within the fandom, steddie is probably a good example of this. In canon they are physically positioned close to each other a lot of the time, and a lot of their shared dialogue could be read as 'flirty'/having romantic connotations, so they have the textual box checked. However, there is really no grounds for thinking it will be canon (even putting aside eddie being dead) because there is arguably nothing that could really be considered 'evidence' in either the aesthetics or narrative.

Which brings us back to byler. I am going to list a few examples of evidence supporting their endgame for each of the categories just to provide some context, but this is definitely not all of it.

Narrative

In my opinion the most conclusive evidence for byler endgame narratively is the character arcs of mike, will and el. this has been gone over many times and there are many great posts that explain this in more depth, so I won't go into detail, but all three of them have been following their own character arcs since the beginning. in essence, will's is about accepting that he is not broken/a mistake and deserves a happy ending, el's is about finding her independence from the abusive men/other people that have controlled and learning to be herself, and mike's is about realising that conforming to societal expectations is not the path to happiness. they obviously each have other sub-arcs, but imo these are the main ones that are followed throughout the whole show.

Basically what this achieves is setting up a satisfying ending for each character. And really the only way to resolve all three of these in that way is for el to be on her own, and for mike to accept that he does not conform (is queer) and for him and will to be together. that is the only way. any other ending would be wildly unsatisfying

Other evidence within the narrative includes things like tropes, eg a love triangle with childhood best friend and seemingly perfect person, and how the best friend is always the one that ends up with the protagonist.

The overall themes of the show also tie into this. Arguably the whole show is about 'freaks and outcasts', and how "forced conformity is killing the kids". therefore it doesnt make sense thematically for the one (currently) canonically gay boy to end up alone and rejected after going through his whole arc, or for one of the main characters to have nothing really defining him as an outcast if he is not queer.

Lastly, to quote that one person, who the fuck writes a slowburn rejection? It makes absolutely no sense to drag out will's feelings for so long if they are not reciprocated.

Aesthetic

This is my favourite section for byler evidence. There is just so much of it. Which is extremely interesting because in every other non-canon ship I can think of, this is the area where they fall woefully short.

The first thing that springs to mind is the queer imagery constantly associated with mike. He is repeatedly placed in front of closets, his wardrobe is s4 is almost entirely the colours of the gay flag, he is associated with rainbows, fruit, triangles and words like 'men' and 'boy', etc. These were intentional choices made on the part of the production crew.

The blue and yellow motif also deserves a mention here as well, given how prominent the association with them is in their costuming, lighting, etc. There are many aesthetic devices that are used, eg symbolism like mike's flowers to el dying in her hands, byler always being blocked together alongside other couples, using the same music in a scene with mike as they did when robin told steve she was a lesbian, I could go on.

What is so interesting about these is how intentional everything has to be, especially when there is this much of it. You don't accidentally have a light focusing only on two character's faces during an emotional scene, or dress a character in a particular colour scheme or have them looking at another character's lips. With textual and narrative features, you can fuck up or have a coincidence fairly easily, but it is an obviously deliberate choice to have a character standing in front of an open closet the first time his girlfriend tells him she loves him.

Textual

These features are the most obvious to the general audience, so often they have to be a bit more subtle.

Every scene in the show uses dialogue and/or action, so there is plenty to draw from. The 'crazy together' scene is a really good example on multiple levels. Not only is it a very emotional scene that shows mike deeply cares about will via dialogue, the line itself (crazy together) calls back to the audience's mind other scenes that establish the word 'crazy' as a stand-in for 'love', such as the jancy scene in the police station in s1.

Additionally, a very clear shot is shown of mike reaching out to grab will's hand, something that is likely to be intended to be read romantically, due to the parallels with other canon couples.

The same could be said for almost any other 'byler scene'; "cool" "cool", "we're friends", the van scene, etc. Speaking of the van scene, all the lip glances are fair game to include in this section too!

-----

The Duffer's arent stupid. They know this stuff. looking at this from a literature student standpoint, saying it is a compelling argument is a wild understatement, and I am certain any reasonable lit teacher would agree.

We are not the delusional ones. At this point, if byler isn't canon the show was written wrong. Its as simple as that

[lucienarcheron]

Morning Pranks [ Elucien ]

Prompt: Inspired by a tiktok that no longer exists but Elain being a little tease to start the day. |

Genre: Fluff McFluff

Elain watched Lucien with a small smile on her face as he finished the final touches of his outfit for the day. 

They had started their morning with her favorite kind of love-making, the slow and sensual kind that had her toes curling just at the thought. Now, they finished their breakfast and were getting ready to go about their respective duties of the day. Except she hadn’t teased him all morning. 

As she watched Lucien tie his hair back, Elain bit her lip as she thought of the perfect way to get a whine out of him before he left. They didn’t part a single morning without a searing kiss and a tender declaration of love — it would throw their entire day off otherwise. And while she didn’t want to throw their whole routine out, Elain did want to make him work for it a little. 

Just a little bit.

“Alright, bunny. I’m off.” her handsome mate declared and strode over to her. “I’ll be back to spend lunch together.”

“Be safe, my love.” she replied and let him scoop her in his arms with a giggle. “Don’t make me wait too long though. I’ll break into a million and one pieces.”

Lucien chuckled. “Of course not, dove. I’d never make you wait.” he replied with a smile and leaned in to kiss her lips.

But Elain turned her face just slightly to the side, so he ended up kissing her cheek. Lucien leaned back with a blink and Elain only gave him a small smile as he returned her to the floor.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, a slight hesitation in his words, and Elain smiled fully.

“Not at all, handsome.” she replied instantly and he nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response so he leaned in again to lay one on her.

But once more and with a barely contained giggle, Elain turned her face just slightly so, that Lucien ended up kissing her other cheek instead. 

“Hey!” Lucien exclaimed and pulled back from her, confused and offended all at once. “I want my goodbye kiss!”

Finally letting out a fit of giggles, Elain nodded and gave him another smile, sliding her hands up his strong arms to squeeze a little. “Of course, my love. I’m sorry. Come here.”

And this time, Elain puckered up her lips for Lucien. He hesitated for a fraction of a moment, narrowing his eyes at her behavior and the giggling mess she was. Lucien held up a finger in warning but Elain only wiggled her head, lips puckered and waiting.

Lucien leaned in once more, fully intending to make up for the two kisses he already missed out on but once more, Elain turned her head with a ridiculous giggle and Lucien’s lips landed on her cheek. 

He let out the loud whine she was anticipating and Elain burst out laughing.

“Elain!” he growled out and huffed as she held on to him, laughing away. Lucien shook his head, watching her beautiful face light up in laughter, and really, he couldn’t hold back much longer. Grabbing her face with both hands, Lucien pulled her into him and gave her a kiss that absolutely had her knees buckling. He kissed her as though they had no more time left in the world. Like this would be the kiss to end all kisses. Like he needed this kiss lest he perished or she disappeared.

Lucien leaned back, pulling Elain into him further, lifting her off the ground a few inches, and groaned into her mouth as Elain opened up for him. She returned his kiss with fervor, smiling into it and Elain could only hold on to him, gripping his shirt tightly as Lucien poured his everything into imprinting his lips on hers. A hand of his slid down, cupping her ass and squeezing, earning him a little moan from Elain and Lucien finally pulled back, gazing into his lovely mate’s slightly dazed eyes. 

“Please don’t do that to me again.” he said, his voice dropping an octave, licking his lips as he gently put her down once more. “I need your kisses, sunshine.”

Elain let out a small laugh, her hands sliding down his back. “Was that good for you then?”

“It was fantastic.” he practically purred, leaning in and kissing her again with a small growl. Elain hummed in content as she kissed him back, deepening the kiss and it took several minutes for the two of them to pull away. “So fantastic, I’m about to cancel my plans and stay in for the day.”

Elain’s head leaned back as she laughed. “My kisses make you want to shirk your responsibilities, huh?”

“Everything about you makes me willing to bring the world to its knees.”

She grinned. “Even when I deny you kisses?”

Lucien gave her a look, quirking his brow. “You really want to bring out the devil in me, don’t you?”

Elain’s smile was coy as she gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m sure I could handle it.”

“Are you sure?” Lucien asked quietly, leaning in to nip at her ear as Elain flushed in delight.

“Kiss me again, let’s find out.” 

[chocolatespyro]

Me learning to not give people the benefit of the doubt when they've been given the benefit of the doubt about 50 times already

(III 15 edition. Spoilers under the cut if you still haven't seen it somehow.)

EDIT: Took out the part about them not mentioning her disability since Bot does say that they wouldn't want Cabby to forget iirc, also about them not thinking kids would understand disability since I wasn't happy with those points and I feel they were inaccurate or somewhat off-topic. That's pretty much it though.

The more I think abt it the more I can see how the Bot apology sucks lmaoooo

Dunno if this was a point made on Twitter (I've heard there's been discontent there? I dont have Twitter tho but I'd LOVE to hear more from other Cabby fans abt what's going on there. u can leave comments on this post if u want or u can just rb and do it thru tags.)

Anyways, to my main points: Bot just says they're sorry for... forcing Cabby to get permission to use her files?

What about them lying to Cabby? I don't believe they ever really apologized for that. OR TOLD HER THAT THEY LIED??

Bot also doesn't really apologize for the other main points people were upset for I think?

I don't think bot ever really takes full accountability for judging Cabby either. No one does really. Like... at least an

"I'm sorry. I really screwed up, and so did a lot of the other contestants. We were too harsh and judgmental towards you for no reason, and our insecurities shouldn't have gotten in the way of you being able to remember. This was supposed to be a fun and welcoming environment and vacation... but it became a nightmare for you instead. I know this won't make up for all the damage done, but I hope this file is useful to you."

(maybe reworded some to fit Bot's personality better, but the apology shouldn't have just been this quick one-off moment taken to the side like in canon.)

To kinda add to the above, I also think it would've been nice if Bot fully noticed and acknowledged HOW other people haven't been treating Cabby very kindly too by giving examples of where nobody stood up for her. Lifering was a great supportive person in the episode, but Bot was there for some of the shit that was pulled against Cabby, ESPECIALLY in episode 7. I so wish that that was acknowledged here. And the fact that Test Tube went directly behind Cabby's back to do that. Where does Bot think Test Tube got those files from?

There's also the fact that Test Tube never approaches to apologize for judging Cabby for no reason. Like she just stares at Cabby and Bot hugging for a few seconds after Bot apologizes that's it. And she... doesn't accuse Cabby. That's the barest fucking minimum she could've done.

Also... the "inaccurate depictions" thing wasn't even true outside of Baseball's file... and that was a bunch of contrived bs. Like Suitcase literally had this whole thing where she stood up to Nickel and I guess... Cabby glossed over that somehow??? I can't suspend my disbelief this much sorry all. Idk where the "Manipulated by Balloon" shit came from. Correct me if I'm wrong bcus I haven't seen season 2.

The only reason why it was inaccurate with Bot is because Cabby thought Bot was Bow, something Cabby IMMEDIATELY corrected herself on. Bot coulda just... reminded Cabby that it wasn't her fault because she didn't know Bot and Bow were two different objects and told Cabby to just... start a new file like others said??? So that shit didn't make sense.

The apology just... kinda feels shallow. Cabby didn't do anything wrong here. She's beaten herself up over this shit. It just hurts to watch.

Bot only really apologized for a single thing and we don't get any acknowledgement towards the lying or the mistreatment or Cabby destroying Bow's file as some sort of garbage symbolism attempt.

Bot's apology was kinda supposed to tie everything together and top everything off nicely in a better and at least slightly more satisfying way than whatever the fuck 14 did, but it just... doesn't. It barely acknowledges the issues. They don't really show how seriously they screwed up with Cabby.

I wanna believe that AE has the best intentions here, but they're on very thin ice in my eyes. If they screw up any next steps with Cabby and/or never address Cabby's issues with Test Tube ever again, I think I'm done having any kind of faith in AE. Even Cabby winning wouldn't save it.

Yeah sorry this got really depressing, this situation is just sad

[wri0thesley]

so sorry to be that guy ack but the corset talk has really reminded me how modern media has ruined people's perception of corsets and women's clothing in general... Corsets are ye olden day equivalent of bras! They provide support, give the impression of a smaller waist silhouette (when it comes to structured corsets) and help with posture! Some enthusiasts of older articles of clothing have taken up to wearing corsets daily and are actually pretty satisfied with them, since they can be unexpectedly comfortable. Some people even wear them during sports!

If a corset is hurting you, or you notice you have trouble breathing while wearing it, then either it is a badly made one or you're wearing it wrong, so always be mindful! Your comfort and safety come first.

Back on the yandere based talk though... How utterly intimate the act of them helping you put it on can be... Someone like Jean or Lisa, oh so kindly agreeing to tie it for you, carefully lacing everything together. Jean would be so careful and patient, making sure everything is laced perfectly and that you're comfortable, while Lisa would watch. She'd run her hands up and down your sides, admiring Jean's handiwork once she's finished. See, you look so good like this, aren't you a beauty? Lisa was right to pick out this pattern, it looks wonderful on a sweet little thing like you!

On the other hand, Kaeya would be more interested in taking it off... It's been a long day, you want to get out of this, so of course Kaeya is here to help you out! Nevermind that you specifically said you don't want his help. He'd be so mean, taking his sweet time with it. And uncharacteristically silent, enough to make you uneasy, frustrated with him. He has a way of toying with your nerves without uttering a single word.

Diluc would ah. Yeah he wouldn't really have experience with this. Leave it to the maids. Maybe you can tease him by asking him to tie it for you, make him all flustered, but in the end the joke's on you bc it would take him half an hour just to make a mess :( Such is the complicated life of Diluc's darling.

oh anon, you absolutely do not need to talk to me about corsets! i wear an underbust corset semi-regularly (i wear fifties repro fashion and it works for the silhouette!) and have talked about it quite a bit here! i get needlessly angry at media about how Corsets Are Bad or scenes about 'oh i hate wearing a corset so much'. the newest bridgerton has a scene where a character says like "my corset is made of whale bones. whales died for me to wear it" and AAAAAGH. it's not. whalebone corsets arent made of whale BONES!!! tell me you did no research without telling me! also that recent news about the bbc/netflix/etc 'banning' corsets over health and safety concerns - JUST MAKE YOUR ACTORS WEAR WELL-FITTED CORSETS? STOP TRYING TO MAKE THEM AS SMALL AS POSSIBLE, JUST GET THEM CUSTOM MADE TO FIT CORRECTLY. ARGH. historical costumery my greatest foe . . .

(i also find mine super helpful for grounding and i know that's very common! i have shitty posture and it helps with that but also the feel of it being there holding me makes me feel a lot more Present! i will also always be an avid Shouter Of Not Buying Shitty eBay or Amazon corsets and supporting a creator or small business!)

ANYWAY

lisa . . . ack. miss lisa. lisa and jean talking about how pretty you look in what they picked out!

i simply think that there is something so much sexier about darling slipping off their gown and being in stockings and chemise and corset . . . so intimate, but still so covered up. diluc is having a breakdown.

[put-me-out-of-my-destiny]

I often think about the discrepancy between Dante and Vergil's SDT forms, Dante's having a bespoke moveset and Vergil's simply being a more powerful standard DT.

And usually my thoughts go to what Vergil's SDT moveset would be like, but I also imagine how powerful and fun Dante would become if his SDT worked like Vergil's.

With appropriate buffs to each, Sword Formation would become his standard DT, and his SDT would have his original DT moveset. However, I don't suggest Dante's kit wouldn't be improved by removing his SDT moveset, but if Dante could toggle between his standard moveset and SDT moveset whenever he's in that form...

Putting the rest of my thoughts under a readmore because there's a lot.

There's the issue of what input would be used. At first I thought of it working like Air Raid in DMC3, but Dante already has Air Hike and a glide, and even if it had some kind of directional input to go with it, I think the chance of accidentally toggling would turn a lot of players off of the idea. Instead, I think it should function like a fifth Style, like Darkslayer in DMC4, that's only accessible in Dante's devil form. Accidental inputs are still possible, but in this case it's more of a skill issue than having it share a button with Dante's jumps. Plus, it would remove the question of how Style switching and Sword Formation would affect his SDT moveset.

Now, this of course got me thinking back to Vergil, imagining if his SDT form also gained this functionality - it would probably be easier to implement for him, since he doesn't have a double jump at all - as well as thinking about what narrative would tie into this.

An obvious and perfectly acceptable approach is simply to say that Dante and Vergil, while fighting and training together in the Underworld, learned a lot from each other and truly mastered their SDT forms in the process, but of course I'm not satisfied with that answer, because it's too symbolically lacking.

I've said in the past that Devil Sword Vergil should be the product of Yamato becoming one with the Devil Bringer. I think they already have become joined in some way, Vergil's Doppelganger has similar properties to Nero's DT from DMC4, and of course he now has an SDT form. However, much like the union between the Devil Bringer and Yamato, his SDT form is incomplete. And as unintentional as it probably is, this is actually rather fitting for Vergil, considering how reluctant and begrudging his character arc in DMC5 seems, at least to me.

He seemed to bond with Nero while he was V, and he did regain his humanity by the end of the game, but I don't think he's done a complete 180° on his worldview just yet. The way I choose to see it is, he accepts his humanity and his relation to Nero as facts, but part of him is still in denial. It's not clear he's really changed at all, and it seemed like he only agreed to cut down the Qliphoth because Nero beat him. Part of him knows he needs to make a change, but change is a scary thing when you don't know how to do it.

So while Dante's Summoned Swords become more powerful and his SDT form becomes more stable - perhaps his time training with Vergil has something to do with it after all, though Dante wouldn't admit it right away - Vergil remains stagnant, and this frustrates him. He sacrificed everything for power, yet even after regaining his human form, Dante continues to surpass him. Only once he lets go of his resentment for Dante, finds a new reason for fighting, and accepts his place in the Human World (and by extension, his family) will he gain his wings, so to speak.

[cherrydreamer]

(Warning: Contains rookie!cop Steve which I know is very much not to everyone's tastes. Also some description of Neil Hargrove inflicted abuse. Nothing overly graphic but just be aware.)

🎃 Harringrove Harvest Day 2- Gone Feral 🎃

Steve's at a loss.

It had been easy enough for him when he was right in the thick of it. Easy to know what to do. To trust his gut. Because, really, all it boiled down to was that fact that there'd been a bunch of monsters he needed to fight and a bunch of kids he needed to protect. 

But now it's all over. Monsters fought. Kids protected. Everything squared away, neat and tidy.

And Steve isn't quite sure where he fits anymore. He hovers in doorways, on the edge of the groups, drifting from the kitchen with a mug of Joyce's hot cocoa in hand- loaded with extra marshmallows because, "you look like you need the sugar, honey," over to the table where Dustin is restating his theories about d'Art and the potential domestication of Demodogs, sneaking a look back towards the couch where Nancy and Jon are huddled, heads together, in a world of their own.

So when Hopper beckons him over, it's easiest for Steve just to follow him, to step out onto the porch and accept the cigarette held out in front of him and wait for whatever favour it was that Hopper needed him to do next. Drive the kids home, probably, or maybe run out for some more food. Something useful. Helpful.

But instead of asking for anything, Hopper rests a firm hand on Steve's shoulder. It feels good. Grounding. Reassuring in a way that Steve didn't even know he needed. 

"You did good out there, kid," Hopper says, quiet but serious in a way that has Steve's gut squirming, "I know it can't've been easy, keeping those brats safe, but y'did it. And I heard the whole thing, about what you did in those tunnels. Trust me, Dustin won't stop yapping on about it, and I gotta say it was damn brave of you, son"

It's a lot. Too much praise for something that anyone would've done, most likely, so Steve tries to dismiss it, to shake it off, not feeling like he really deserves the warm glow of pride blooming in his chest. He manage to mumble something about how it'd been dangerous, really, dangerous and stupid, and Hopper laughs, a proper, deep in the gut rumble of laughter that ends in a cough.

"Dangerous, stupid and brave, huh? Not the worst combination in the world, hell, it may as well be the damn motto of the Hawkins Police Department. Might get Flo to make one of her cross stitch pictures. Have it framed for the office."

Hopper laughs again, and then he pauses, and Steve swears he can almost see the cartoon bulb lighting up above his head.

"Look, kid, I don't know what you've got lined up for after graduation. College? Or a job? Something with your dad's place, maybe?"

Steve can only shake his head, already waiting for Hopper's look of disappointment, only it never comes. Instead he nods, satisfied, like a plan is coming together.

"Well, it'd be good to have another person down at the station who knows what we're actually up against," and then he snorts, amused, "And someone like you? Someone with a bit of common sense? Well that would make a hell of a difference too. I can't say it's always this exciting," he shrugs, "But it ain't a bad job. And you've got more potential than a hell of a lot of the rookies I've seen. You think on it, son," 

And that, seemingly, is that. Hopper gives Steve's shoulder another one of those warm, firm pats, and then he stubs his cigarette out on Joyce Byers' porch railing and heads back inside.

But Steve stays put for a while longer. 

Just thinking.

—

He goes back to Hopper the very next day, asking if he was serious, surprised when Hopper doesn't even blink before he's sliding Steve an application form and a pen. And so, within a week, Steve is sitting in the break room of the Hawkins Police Station in a brand new blue shirt and a tie that Hopper had taken one look at and re-tied for him, his eyes growing wider and wider as Flo hands over a thick, official looking book.

"Just a little light reading, dear," she says, "Make sure you know exactly what you're signing up for."

Steve's regretting it all already. A regret that only grows as he scans through the first page of his new training handbook.

As expected, he starts right at the bottom of the heap, with no more responsibility than fetching coffees, washing the cars and helping Flo with the filing. But Steve doesn't mind that. That sounds doable. Achievable. 

What's worrying him is what happens next, if he proves that he can manage not to fuck up those simple tasks. Because then it gets tough. There's a whole program of training, months and months of it covering all the procedures and codes and policies that Steve is expected to learn before he can even begin to shadow an officer. 

There's reading. Studying. Questions he needs to be able to answer. Tons of shit to remember. 

Just the thought of it has him feeling sick. 

"Hey, uh, Chief?" he's standing up the moment that Hopper enters the room, tripping over his own feet in his haste to try and shove the training manual back into Hopper's hands, "Look, I think, uh, I think I made a mistake, I can't…I can't do this," Steve thumbs through the book, his face growing paler with every new page, "And there's a test? Like a proper, pen and paper- yeah, no, no, I'm not, I'm not gonna be able to do that."

He shakes his head, already feeling like a failure before he's even been here half an hour, but Hopper only smiles,

"We got Callahan through it and that guy locks himself out of his car at least twice a month."

"Locked himself in it last week," Flo calls out cheerily.

"There you go." Hopper grins, "And let me tell you this. None of this crap-" he tugs the book from Steve's hands, flinging it down onto an already overflowing desk, -actually matters." His hand is back on Steve's shoulder. Heavy but reassuring, just like before. "Look kid, far as I can see? You've done more than enough to prove that you've got what it takes. And I'm in charge here, so you pay attention to me and not that book, and you'll be just fine. Now c'mon, we've got our first case of the day and I reckon you're just the person to help solve it."

From the way Hopper's smirking, Steve knows it's a trap, but he can't help keep the eagerness from his voice when he answers, "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, big mystery alright. There's an empty space in my cup, right where my coffee oughta be. Reckon you can figure that one out, rookie?" 

And, with a sigh, Steve starts his first day.

—-

Slowly but surely, Steve finds his feet.

There is a lot of coffee fetching and filing with Flo and car washing, but he doesn't mind that. He likes chatting with Flo, hearing her talk proudly about her grandsons and their important jobs in the city and her husband, Harold and the rowboat he's been fixing up so he can go out fishing; and he likes the hum of appreciation that Powell lets out whenever Steve's spent a good couple of hours shining up his car. And it's really not long at all before Hopper is inviting Steve along with him when he goes out on a job. It's routine stuff at first, of course, dealing with shaken up drivers that misjudged the sharp corner of Cartersville and Cornwallis, or helping to calm down arguments about a few inches of encroaching ivy between otherwise civilised neighbours and, of course, there's the memorable times when Hopper gets Steve to dress up as McGruff the Crime Dog and accompany him along on his visits to Hawkins Elementary to talk to a gaggle of over excited little kids, and the even more memorable time when Hopper owed him one and ended up being the one donning the dog costume.

It's fun. And Steve finds that he's not too bad at it. In fact, he's pretty good. He learns how to approach situations. How to calm angry guys and comfort hysterical women or- more often than he'd expect- vice versa. He learns when to talk, to take control of a situation, and when to hold back and just listen. He learns what to look for, how to read rooms and faces and body language and situations.

And he learns, most of all, that usually people just want to know that someone is there and sees them and understands them. People just want someone to help. 

—

It's sometime around mid December when things ramp up. A lot. It's an evening shift, the two of them parked up in the Blazer, coffee in hand as they keep an eye out for teens speeding their way down to the Quarry, when their peace is interrupted by a crackle on the radio. 

"Here we go then, kid," Hopper says, unhooking the receiver, "First call of the night. Bet you dollars to doughnuts it'll be Beth Landingham calling to complain about her neighbours' Christmas lights being too damn bright again." 

But it isn't. Flo's crackly voice informs them both that Hopper's presence is required immediately at a domestic disturbance over at Cherry Lane, and Hopper fills Steve in on the most important detail.

"Hargrove place," he clarifies with a groan, "Not the first time, probably won't be the last." 

"It'll be Billy being an asshole," Steve says confidently. "Probably came home drunk or something. Or maybe he's finally snapped, gone feral. Wouldn't surprise me."

"Maybe," Hopper muses, his jaw set grimly, and Steve can't deny the thrill he's feeling at the thought of being there to see Billy get put in his place. He wonders if Hopper will yell. If he'll need to restrain Billy or hit him. He bets Billy will resist and put up a fight, and maybe Steve will need to step in and-

"Hey, Hop, you think I can be the one to, y'know, give him a warning or whatever?"

And Steve's already imagining it, how he'd have the upper hand. How he could flash his ID badge and stand right in front of Billy, maybe even order him to sit down, make him listen and obey. A small part of him is hoping that Billy doesn't listen, so that Hopper has no choice but to cuff him, and maybe he'sd even let Steve do that but too and Steve already knows he cinch those cuffs just a little bit too tight, enough to be really uncomfortable. Enough to pinch. 

He can't wait to make Billy squirm. Make him pay.

But Hopper's face is blank, "Let's see what we're dealing with first, Harrington."

"I'm gonna call him William," Steve says, thinking out loud, "Bet he'll hate that." 

—

But when he gets there, Steve doesn't call Billy 'William'. He doesn't flash his ID badge or order Billy to sit down or slap the cold, metal cuffs around Billy's thrashing wrists. He doesn't do any of the things he'd imagined.

Instead, Steve stands in the middle of it all, staring round. He doesn't know where to look first, where to even start. He's still coming to terms with the very real, very visceral shock of what his job could actually entrail. He knows he's been naive, and he's seeing now that it's not just going to be school visits and speeding fines and even the occasional infestation of supernatural monsters, but that some of it is going to be this kind of fucked up shit too.

Fucked up shit like Billy Hargrove being on the kitchen floor, curled up in the middle of a whole table-worth of broken crockery, his face a mess of blood and tears. The more Steve looks, the worse it gets. He takes it in, in that way he can now, picking up on the details: like how Billy's shirt is hanging open, some buttons torn and others hanging from threads, and how he has one arm twisted against his chest, bent at a sickeningly wrong angle, while the other one is raised above his head in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the man standing over him. Steve manages to pull his gaze away, checking in on everyone else: Susan, standing off to the side, her arms tight around Max who sports a scarlet red handprint on her cheek.

And then Steve turns his attention to Mr. Hargrove, Max's stepdad. Steve only really knows him by sight, but even then he'd always seemed… off, a little too calm, too controlled. Stiffly polite, but with a flicker of something cold and mean behind his eyes. 

He had known he could be a hardass though. Steve had picked that up just from overhearing Max's grumblings about him, how Neil was always more concerned with Max seeming respectable and being a 'good girl' for Susan than having any real interest in her as a person, and how he was even harder on Billy. 

Good, Steve had thought at the time. If anyone needs a firm hand, it's Billy.

Steve feels sick to think about it now. Because this man here, this Mr. Hargrove, is more than just a hardass. He's a whole different beast, and whatever facade of 'respectful family man' he once tried to project is gone entirely. His face is red, his eyes are bulging, and flecks of saliva are falling from his mouth as he spits insults after insult in Billy's face, before turning to Hopper and telling him, in no uncertain terms, exactly 'what kind of filth that son of mine really is'.

He lets fly with a whole host of slurs and accusations, each one more graphic than the last, and Steve winces at Neil Hargrove's particular choice of words, a sick feeling churning in his gut when he thinks about how often he's said some of them himself, back before. Back when he needed to prove how much better he was than the kids who didn't fit, the weird kids, the quiet ones, the ones with the wrong clothes or haircut or who lived in the wrong part of town. Back when certain insults, certain implications, were enough to have rumours flying quickly enough to turn a socially awkward kid into a social pariah by the end of the school day. 

But Neil Hargrove isn't just throwing them out as casual insults. Steve can tell, from the utter disgust dripping from his voice, that Neil means them. And that, worst of all, Neil thinks that those words, those accusations, are more than enough to excuse what he's done to Billy. The mess he's made of his own son. 

And maybe they had been before, Steve thinks with a dawning horror, wondering just how long Billy's been living with this. Maybe this isn't the first time something like this had happened, and maybe Neil got away with it then, maybe he even had the police on his side because what Billy was and what he was accused of doing, was seen as so much worse than whatever punishment Neil had doled out.

Because Billy isn't fighting back. Even now Hopper's shoved Neil away, Billy isn't showing any of the spark that Steve associates with him. He isn't even standing up. Instead he's huddling right down, curled away as much from Hopper as he was from Neil, trying to make himself smaller, trembling but not making a sound. Neil is shouting and Max is yelling and Susan's crying but Billy is eerily silent.

Like he's given up. 

Like he knows there's no point asking for help.

Like he's resigned to this.

Like it might only get worse, now that the police are here.

And that's what shakes Steve out of his stupor. Because he got into this job to help people and that's what he's always wanted to do. All he can do. All he's been good at. And even though he has absolutely no idea how to help with this, no idea how to even start with Billy, he needs to try.

So he does.

He lets his instinct take over, and he steps carefully over broken glass, kneeling down just a few steps away from Billy. And when Billy turns to face him, his eyes clouded with fear and his lashes clumped together with a mix of tears and the blood that runs from a still bleeding gash on his brow, Steve says the first thing that comes into his head, 

"So, uh, guess your Dad's kind of a huge asshole then, Hargrove?"

And god it's dumb. So dumb. Steve knows it's dumb even as he's saying it. He's following absolutely none of what little sensitivity training he's had, and he's probably made a terrible situation even worse. 

But it gets a snorty, watery huff out of Billy. And there's even a flicker of a smile, despite everything. 

And Steve thinks that maybe he is helping here, after all. 

[fanficshiddles]

Bargaining, One Shot (Slight spoilers for Ep5!)

Summary: You get pruned and think you’ve died, but when you wake up you find President Loki staring down at you. You beg him to help you. So he makes a bargain with you. In return for safety, he wants your body. 

Warnings: Dub-con

-

Your eyes fluttered open, expecting to see some kind of bright light or angels, perhaps. Or maybe you’d gone to the depths of hell, so would see demons and fire everywhere. But you were surprised, and confused, when you opened them to see dark clouds above and a man with black hair and a weird horned crown popped into view, looming over you, with some others surrounding him.

‘Oh dear, is she dead?’ President Loki asked.

One of the others he was with nudged your shoulder with his foot. Making you groan as you blinked hard to focus.

‘Apparently not.’ Loki chuckled.

You rolled round and got up onto your hands and knees, looking up at the men surrounding you. There was then an almighty roar from not too far away. You looked over and saw the most terrifying monster in the clouds.

‘You’re not a Loki, are you?’ Loki asked you.

‘A what? Loki? What do you mean?’ You frowned.

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Clearly not. Waste of our time.’

‘Do we kill her, sire?’ One of the men asked, making your eyes widen.

‘No, Alioth will get her soon enough.’ Loki sneered and turned around to leave with the others.

You quickly put two and two together that Alioth was the name of the terrifying cloud monster that was getting closer and closer.

‘WAIT!’ You scrambled towards Loki. ‘Please… Please, don’t leave me here.’ You begged.

He turned back to face you, raising an eyebrow. ‘Why should I help you? You’re not one of us, no one but Loki’s survive here.’

‘Please… I’ll do whatever you want, anything, just please don’t leave me here. I beg you.’ You cried and was literally begging at his feet. You looked up at him through teary eyes. ‘I’m scared, please.’

Loki tilted his head as he stared down at you. Then he tapped his lower lip in thought for a moment, before a wicked smirk spread across his lips. You noticed he was then actually looking at you rather thoroughly for the first time.

‘I suppose, having a woman around could be rather useful.’ He hummed. ‘It has been so long since I’ve felt the soft lips of another…’ He reached down and brushed his thumb against your lower lip, making your lip quiver at his meaning.

Though the thought of doing sexual favours in return for safety didn’t exactly sound like a bad idea in this situation. Besides, he was rather good looking. And considering you’d thought you had died, the chance at survival was too great to pass up.

‘Please.’ You whispered again, pleading him with your eyes.

You knew he was dangerous, it was obvious. The fact that he and the others with him were even alive in this place. Even at first glance you knew it wasn’t a safe place to be.

He stood up straight and slid his hands into his pockets again. Then he nodded once. ‘Come with me.’

You scrambled up to your feet and followed as he started heading off quickly, it was hard keeping up with his large strides, but you managed. The others were staring at you weirdly, not sure whether to trust you or not. Since they didn’t trust anyone, really.

The monster was getting closer, making you shake more and more in fear. But Loki was completely calm as he led the way. Then eventually, after what felt like hours but was actually just a few minutes, you came to a large circular hatch in the ground.

Some of the others opened it up and started climbing down. Loki looked at you and motioned to the ladder. But you were frozen, the thought of going down there and being trapped god knows where…

‘Suit yourself. You can come down and take your chance with me, or you can stay out here all alone with the monster. But no one apart from Loki’s ever survive here alone.’ He said darkly, smirking a little.

He went towards the ladder, but you quickly moved forward after hearing another roar from the monster. ‘I’ll come down.’ You blurted out quickly.

Loki grinned and motioned for you to go first as he took a small step back. You hesitantly began to climb down the ladder and Loki followed. When you reached the bottom, you turned around and were faced with even more people that you assumed were other Loki’s. They all had various weapons aimed at you, making your eyes widen.

‘Hey, hey, hey! Back off, she’s no threat. She’s mine.’ Loki growled at them all roughly when he got down the ladder behind you.

They instantly backed down, obeying their King.

Loki gripped your upper arm firmly and led you through the other Loki’s, he started spouting some green energy from his hand when one of them tried to get over to you. You gulped hard, just what exactly had you gotten yourself into?

He took you through to what you assumed was his private bedroom. It was just as weird and dark as the other room. But this one at least had a bed.

Using some magic, Loki locked the door without a key.

‘Well now.’ He said as he shrugged off his black jacket, leaving the rest of his clothes on. But he started rolling his sleeves up his forearms. You weren’t sure why, but you felt the green waistcoat and tie really suited him, like it was his colour.

‘Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?’ He growled low, licking his lips.

You felt your own mouth go dry as you looked down and saw a bulge in his trousers. Not knowing for sure what he might be capable of, and holding up your end of the bargain, you walked over to him and sank down to your knees.

A smirk tugged on his lips as he gazed down at you. You were so nervous as you reached up and slowly started palming at him through his trousers. God, he felt so big. You were kind of scared to see for sure.

‘Come on, pet. Don’t keep me waiting, it’s not too late for me to chuck you back outside to the monster.’ He said in warning as he narrowed his eyes at you.

With a gulp, you began to free his cock. And when you did, it didn’t ease your nerves at all. You felt his piercing gaze upon you as you tentatively started stroking him, slowly becoming bolder and bolder as you got used to his rather intimidating size.

‘Don’t be scared. This beast doesn’t bite much, unlike the one outside.’ He chuckled.

You licked your lips and then looking up at him, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth. His eyes fluttered and his mouth parted in a throaty groan when he felt your warm mouth engulf him.

‘That’s it, good girl.’ He growled and reached down to slide his long fingers through your hair.

You felt a delightful shiver run down your spine at his praise for some reason. You hollowed your cheeks and tried to suck him down as far as you could, pleasing him that you were trying. But what you couldn’t take down your throat you made up for with your tongue work.

His hand in your hair suddenly tightened, and to your shock he started fucking your mouth roughly. Giving you no option but to take him down your throat, making you choke on him. You put your hands on his lean thighs for support and was pleasantly surprised with how muscular they felt beneath the fabric. But you didn’t get long to think on it as your throat started to hurt.

‘Your mouth is simply wonderful. Oh, yes. I think this was a very good bargain indeed.’ He snarled.

When he was close to cumming, he eased up and just rested on your tongue. You didn’t want to disappoint him, to have him toss you out. So you moaned around him, causing vibrations to dance all over his cock. And you moved your tongue along the underside of him, doing everything just right. So when he came, he came hard, shooting down your throat. You did your best to swallow all of his cum, some dribbled down your chin but that only made him lust after you even more.

After his loud moaning and grunting, he took a few deep breaths to compose himself. But his eyes were still full of dark lust as he pulled out of your mouth.

‘Get on your hands and knees.’ He demanded gruffly, his cock bobbing, still aroused.

You were slightly startled when he waved his hand and suddenly you were completely naked. But you didn’t get time to dwell on it, because he moved behind you as you did as you were told and got into position, you gasped when you felt his fingers sliding against your cunt. ‘Ohhh, pet.’ He cooed and rubbed over your clit, making your body jump. ‘It seems this bargain is not only satisfying for me, but it seems it is for you too.’

You hung your head down in shame at how wet you were just from sucking him off. But Loki’s firm grip in your hair suddenly tugged your head right back, making you gasp.

‘No, no. Do not hang your head in shame. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sucking your King off.’ He growled seductively into your ear, then licked up the side of your neck, making you whimper.

He let go of your hair and instead wrapped his hand around the front of your neck as he lined up with your sopping wet cunt. In one smooth thrust, he was inside of you, filling you up completely. His hand around your neck controlled your breathing, only letting you do so when he deemed fit.

You had never been so aroused in your life. It was evident with the obscene noises coming from between you both as Loki pounded into you.

Your own orgasm hit you like a train crash, you’d never felt anything so animalistic and purely chaotic in your life. It felt so rushed and needy, but it was the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever had. Not long ago you thought you had died, and now you felt like you were dying all over again but this time in over pleasure. With Loki laughing wickedly over you from behind as he spilled into you from his own orgasm.

He collapsed on top of you, knocking you down to the cold hard ground on your stomach. But you didn’t care much, feeling his heavy weight on top of you didn’t bother you either.

‘Mmm… This is a good deal indeed.’ He murmured as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. ‘I give you my word, that I will keep you alive and safe, pet. If you keep your body available to me, always. Can you do that?’

Your mind was so fuzzy, you could barely even think straight. But you nodded and managed to squeak out your answer. ‘Yes… My King.’

[duskamethyst]

deception.

a/n: if you ask me why i did this, the answer is i don’t know.

word count: 4.6k

genre: smut, nsfw, angst, quirkless AU

warnings: daddy kink, degradation, edging, age gap, implied cheating, reader is a little delusional

pairing: sugardaddy!bakugou x f!reader

summary: where you fall in love with your own sugar daddy and you finally confess to him.

pretending to be in love with old men for a couple of hours can be exhausting and it might seem like a nonideal way to get money, but desperate times call for desperate measures. you’ve met plenty of these people, who have too much money they could spend. some are just lonely; in need of company from a young, pretty girl and some just want to have fun despite having their wives and kids at home. they come and go, and you couldn’t care less about what happens to them after your encounter, as long as you get your money’s worth. 

but never have you ever thought that you’d be so attached to one. maybe entertaining sugar daddies isn’t that tiring when they’re really attractive (it’s natural to like good looking people, can anyone blame you?). he’s truly a sight for sore eyes and you often wonder how he possesses so much stamina in bed. bakugou makes you feel some kind of way, it’s wrong, but with more time you spend with him, you can’t help but to actually fall in love with the guy. he makes you feel antsy and you often find yourself waiting for his texts, either the dirty ones or the ones that expresses his anticipation to see you again soon.

it’s not like he doesn’t do the same thing as the others; buys you things you know you can’t afford, spends his money on fancy dinners and continues to spend the rest of the night with you at random five stars hotels after. the difference is, you actually somewhat enjoy being around him as his spoiled little princess and you find yourself to gladly do anything for him like the time you let him fuck you raw because he wanted to. 

for a man his age, bakugou is well maintained. you love to lay your head down on his huge chest and rake your nails on his broad back, eliciting deep grunts of pleasure from the man in return. he looks appetizing; toned abs and a happy trail that leads to his trimmed pubes and down to his massive cock. if it isn’t for the fine lines on his face and the white streaks on his hair, you wouldn’t think he’d be reaching 50. 

you don’t know if you should even feel jealous of his wife. if you were born years earlier, would he choose you instead? the thought of him being with someone else and vowed to be together for the rest of their lives makes you want to puke. bakugou must’ve realized that it was a mistake too. if he still loves her, why would he have his cock sink inside you? if he really loves her, why are you the one he tells that to instead? 

“daddy loves you. daddy loves fucking your tight cunt. baby, you feel so fuckin’ good– so fuckin’ good for daddy. love you too– fuck.”

you can already picture the image of him on top of you as you replay those same words like a broken record player inside your head; lips part slightly in heavy pants, vermillion irises overfill with lechery as he fucks you senseless.

daddy loves you. he loves you and you're more than certain that you love him. not for his money, not for the stuff he indulges you with but only for himself. 

you want him. you want him to make you all his. you want him to be able to see you freely and not sneaking behind someone else’s back. you want to sit pretty as you wait for him to come back home from work every day, all wet and ready to please him. he loves you, and that’s what he deserves after a stressful day. 

as soon as you get inside the room and kick off your heels, a strong pair of hands grab you by the thighs and easily lift you up. you wrap your legs around his waist in an instant, dropping your bag to the floor unceremoniously before circling your arms around his neck as he draws you in a passionate, hungry kiss. a battle of dominance has always been nonexistent when it comes to bakugou, he naturally holds everything in the palm of his hand and both of you like it that way.

his lips never stray away from yours, not even when he walks towards the bed with you clinging onto his strong physique while his hands squeeze firmly on the flesh of your bum before he breaks away, but only to throw you on the soft mattress. you prop up on your side, looking up at him innocently and pleadingly with doe eyes that you know would never fail to stir up something primal inside him. his gaze drinks in every inch of you; the heave of your chest, the curve of your ass and overall your smaller frame that lies submissively in front of him. 

“look at you. such a fucking doll.” he takes off his slim fit suit, throwing the coat carelessly on the ground before loosening up his tie until it unfolds completely. “you like the dress? it’s shorter than i imagined, can’t help but to notice how the other guys kept on checking you out.”

you nod your head, pressing your thighs together as you notice how his lustful eyes linger a little too long on your ass that’s barely hiding under the hem of your mini dress. “yes, because daddy bought it for me.”

“damn right he did.” he smirks, unfastening about three buttons of his dress shirt. “ass up.”

you hurriedly roll on your stomach, planting your cheek on the mattress and arching your back perfectly as you lift your ass in the air. you feel the bed dipping from your back before a calloused hand caresses your thigh and trails up to your cheeks slowly, appreciating the smooth and youthful skin before he gets to ruin it.

“good. lift your head up.”

it’s never your position to question. carefully, you do as told by lifting yourself up on your hands and knees. you can discern the shifting of his body from behind and by your side as you look ahead and face the curtains before your sight is abruptly seized by darkness.

the silky material biting your lids suggests that he has wrapped his tie around your head, purposely blindfolding you to amplify your other senses as your sight is consumed with pitch black. bakugou pushes your head down with his hand, keeping you on your knees and lets you stay in the position while he takes off his dress shirt.  

“you’re gonna be a good girl for daddy.” he states more than questions, hiking up the hem of your dress to your waist to feed him with an unobstructed view of the damp patch adhering on your flimsy panties. bakugou presses his thumb on the splotch and his eyes flick over to your quivering body. “gonna let daddy use his tongue to fuck you?”

“please, daddy.” you whine, bucking your hips closer to ease the ache with his touch but is greeted with a sharp smack across your skin instead. 

“so impatient,” he tuts, rubbing the red print gently. “you’re just a horny little girl, aren’t you? can’t live without daddy’s dick inside her cunt.”

“just you– only yours.” 

“you know just what to say, don’t you?” his voice husky and rasp, complimenting the conceited smirk on his lips as he spoke. you learn that bakugou is actually a man that is easy to please, only if you know how to stroke his ego and as simple as that, his intimidating persona would be long gone. 

cold air brushes against your wet folds once he strips off your panties. he lifts up both knees to get you out from the garment and crumple it into a ball with his hand before bringing it in front of your face. 

“open.” you obey and open your mouth, allowing him to gag you with the cloth and quickly filling your senses with a mixture of lace and your own scent. “so good for me.”

bakugou moves back to his initial position, smearing his fingers against your puffy folds with your slick. he circles your clit teasingly and slowly, resulting in you to squirm while your hands find purchase on the sheets beneath you. 

“stop squirming around or i’m not gonna eat you.” he warns as his ministrations come to a halt to observe your compliance before he continues. for a man that is impatient himself, it’s quite hard to take his sweet time teasing you. maybe with the fact that you’re so querulous, a surge of power and pride rushes through him and his willpower tells him not to lose his machismo too quickly.

a satisfying grin tugs on the corner of his lips while he watches you struggle to follow his order and his thumb presses tight circles on your swollen clit to draw out sweet, muffled whines. once he notices your legs begin to tense and toes to curl, he pulls away. 

“you can’t cum yet.” he licks up the slick from his fingers clean before settling his head in front of your rear. an anticipative knot swells in your lower stomach as you feel hot plumes of breath prickling against your puffy folds before he spreads them open with his fingers. with how much your senses have spiked up, you can feel your pussy dripping with so much arousal and you know damn well that bakugou can see it too. 

“you’re nothing but a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” he coos, sounding both demeaning and amused as he rubs your lips, sending more waves of sensation on the bundle of nerves. “my dirty little slut.”

bakugou doesn’t expect you to answer but as soon as his warm tongue takes the first lap of your slick, a loud squeal rips from your throat. his large hands rest on your hips as he tilts his head to reach your clit, toying and teasing by using the tip of his tongue while his own plump lips and stubble graze against your slit.

you’re quick to turn into a sobbing mess, unheedful of the saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth when you’re aware that it won’t take too long until you’d eventually break. just as the stimulation is becoming more overbearing, his hands clench on your supple flesh tighter in a silent command that tells you it’s not time to cum yet. 

after he’s satisfied with abusing the bud, he drags down his tongue and pumps inside your quivering hole, causing you to jolt in a delighted surprise. from the loud, lewd squelching sounds of your own fluid mixing with his spit, you can only picture the way he looks right now; face buried between your ass cheeks, nose deep in your cunt while his tongue works miraculously around your walls. 

even the image beyond the abyss itself makes you more delirious. 

“c-can’t–” you break into a muffled cry as your hips bucks into his mouth without conscious control. another harsh slap is what you receive, but you can’t seem to care when a thick fog of desire is already clouding your brain; making the pain and pleasure to become one divine fusion. 

bakugou’s blows don't stop with how much you’re grinding so earnestly on his face. your skin burns from the cruel attention, yet your cunt just keeps on seeping with slick that trickles down to his chin and drips down on the sheets beneath you. 

“you’re such a fucking pain slut.” he growls, hot breath fanning your greedy cunt and making the pressure even tighter in your stomach. “not yet.” his tongue is anything but languid; swirling hastily as it explores your little hole as far as he can reach. it’s obscene. the way that the muscle glides so smoothly.. the warmth, the moisture– 

next thing you know, your eyes are already rolled to the back of your eyelids as your body tenses while waves of gratification crash down throughout your entire being.

“cumming on daddy’s tongue without permission.” he tsks, giving one last spank before standing up at the edge of the bed as he burns the image of your quivering body into the back of his head, adorned by the red imprint of his hand on your pliant skin. “turn around.” 

without a spare moment to gather yourself, you get up on wobbly legs and arms, carefully turn around like a fawn taking its first baby steps and rebuild your senses at the same time to estimate where he currently stands until he tells you to stop. 

your eyes squint as they adjust to the subdued room, finally able to see faint light again after bakugou takes off the tie around your head. you look up to the older man, only to be pierced by a pair of carmine orbs and a disgruntled look on his face.

“you know what you did wrong.” a thin string of drool latches onto the panties when he pulls it out from your mouth to observe the drenched fabric between his thumb and pointer finger. “looks like you had a great time.” you can see how it’s embarrassingly soaked, but not as embarrassing as the amount of slick glistening around his lips and chin that he doesn’t even bother to wipe off.

“’m sorry, daddy.” you whisper hoarsely through dry throat while giving him your most remorseful look. it would’ve deceived him if he didn’t know any better, but receiving punishments is something he knows you’d enjoy.

the slight upturn at the corner of his lips etches into a lazy grin as he unfastens his belt and takes off his pants along with his briefs to release his erected cock– now standing proudly in front of your face. 

“what do you have to do now?” he hums, tapping the flushed tip on your lips as if moisturizing the parched skin with his leaking precum. 

“m-make daddy proud.” you shamelessly steal a taste, flattening your tongue out so he can rub it on your palate. 

“can’t fuckin’ understand you– cock hungry slut.” he chuckles with mirth, one hand tucking your hair behind each ear as his gaze softens for a moment. “but that’s why i fuckin’ love you.”

your lashes flutter as you stare up at him, heart blooming like flowers on a fresh start of spring after a harsh, cold winter as the words he uttered loops inside your head. with a content hum, you close your eyes and wrap your lips around his cock, eliciting a hiss from the male once engulfed in the warmth of your mouth. 

“shit, i haven’t even told you to suck me yet.” his own eyes follow suit, throwing his head back as his own hand finds home on top of your head. your eagerness makes it hard for him to stay mad. if he was younger he would’ve been a little irritated if someone tried to take control, but maybe aging really did something and made your whims seem more tolerable for him. but what he loves most is seeing you struggle to fit his fat cock; whether it’s by your mouth or your pussy.

“just like that,” his voice drops an octave, watching most of his length disappear inside your mouth while your tongue runs against his veins. “fuckin’ look at me when you’re suckin’.”

you submissively comply to his command, meeting those sharp eyes you adore beneath the tousled mess of his blond and white hair. 

“you love daddy’s cock?” he doesn’t intend to give you a second to answer before he continues,  “then you wouldn’t mind chokin’ on it, don’t ya?” 

you moan in response just as he expected and he snorts through his nose. “of course you don’t.”

bakugou brings your head closer, shoving down his cock your throat before he starts to snap his hips. a chorus of curses pass his lips, taut muscles relaxing as he drowns in euphoria. drool soon starts to dribble from the corner of your lips and your jaw starts to ache, yet you’re still insistent on accommodating his cock– using your tongue when you could until he’s exploding with a mouthful of oaths.

“such a good girl.” he grunts, holding your head firmly with tension in his fingers as he stares down at you with knitted brows. “feels good havin’ dick in your mouth? hm?”

“hmm–” you moan in concur, the vibration almost drives him mad and it’s evident through the twitch you feel against your hollowed cheeks. with an exasperated groan, he pulls out his cock from your mouth and pumps it in his fist. 

“take it off and lie down. now.” his words thrum through you in a burst of heat. you swiftly discard the dress and rest on your back, spreading your legs in front of him in anticipation before he proceeds to climb on the bed. you shudder when he spits on your cunt before smothering his cock against the slit and down to your entrance to give extra lubrication. 

a deep, inarticulate sound rips from his throat, one that conveys pleasure as he sheathes his cock inside you. he can feel your walls sucking him in so welcomingly and squeezing him so tight that he thought he might cum then and there.

“that’s fuckin’ tight.” he girts out, pushing through the walls until he has bottomed out. with each hand on the sides of your head, his large and shredded build looms on top of you and keeps your smaller frame caged underneath. 

“daddy– s-so big.” you extend your arms to cling around his neck, looking up at him with a lust addled gaze. 

“i know you can handle me, sweetheart.” he smirks conceitedly and starts to roll his hips, dragging every ridge and vein against your walls through each thrust. your toes curl when he goes deeper and your nails dig into his back, leaving crimson trails as they rake.

“l-love you, daddy.” the words slip past your lips so naturally in flawless manifestation of your genuine feelings towards him. 

you observe how his lips stretch into a simper, fiery and lustrous eyes staring back at you before he replies, “love you too, ba– fuck–” 

bakugou feels you clench around him impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss you, forcing you to swallow down his moans as he ruts inside you harder and faster.

“baby– that’s right. daddy fuckin’ loves you.” his low and resonant voice fills your ears, pleasure pulling taut in your lower stomach as the pressure begins to build up rapidly for your second orgasm. “–and he loves this tight cunt.”

“ah– daddy! p-please make me cum–” you start to babble, too lost in pleasure and your legs find themselves wrapping around bakugou’s waist to keep him closer and deeper.

“don’t you fucking dare cum yet.” he snarls before lifting himself up to keep his hands on the headboard in front of him and instantly blocking your view of the room. not that you mind when you’ve already set your eyes on him the whole time. 

“no matter how many times i’ve fucked you–” he pulls out almost completely before ramming in again, making you squeal.  “you still feel so fucking good.”

your hands reach to cup his face gently, your lips parted and wet, eyes glazed with adoration and an overflowing want for him. “all for you.” 

he chuckles quietly to himself. who knew that he would find himself burying his cock in some dumb college girl? with her heart filled eyes that tell him he’s some kind of a savior or the last man on earth. whether it’s all superficial or not, he thinks you’re pretty damn good at it.

“you sure make it hard for daddy not to love you.” he scoffs. you let out a needy whine when he pulls out and your hole convulses, instantly missing the way his cock stretches you out and makes you feel full. 

but it’s not for long when your vision suddenly keels as he flips you over to lie down on your stomach. bakugou easily hoists up your hips and pushes down your back to force you into a perfect arch before he sinks his throbbing cock inside your sloppy cunt without warning. 

“nghh– daddy–!” you cry as bakugou pounds into you with a menacing pace and hits you at the right places at the same time. 

“yeah? you like it when daddy uses you like the little slut you are?” he grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking your head up. “like you’re nothing but my little cocksleeve?”

“yesyesyes– daddy–! s-so deep– can’t!” your strength begins to drain out and you don’t know how much longer you can hold yourself  before he allows you to cum.

“you can– fuck– you’re clamping down on me.” he growls, one hand on your hips forming crescent shapes on your skin with his fingers.

your jaw has fallen slack, mouth gaping in breathless whimpers as you let bakugou abuse your little cunny while your own hands are balling into fists that your knuckles turn white. the air is filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other, mingling with his heavy pants.

“you’re really– hah– milking this fat cock.” his own rhythm turns sporadic, skin burning red with every second he prolongs his desire.

“please– daddy–” you let out a feeble moan and your legs begin to tremble as a result of the unbearable pressure tightening in your lower stomach. your pussy is already leaking with so much slick and it’s making a filthy mess on the bed. 

“you’re ready to cum for daddy?” he fucks you harder with deep strokes, knocking the breath from your lungs each time he presses into you. 

“pleasepleaseplease–” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap.

“cum.” 

the word left his lips in a pure command and you break down instantly with a loud cry. a huge wash of pleasure winds its way through every nerve and your pussy gushes and clenches around his cock. 

“that’s it. good girl.” a deep growl rumbles in his chest as he observes every twitch of pleasure he has brought into you. 

“th-thank you, daddy.” you mumble, still deeply doused in ecstasy.

bakugou finally releases his harsh grip and your head plops down on the soft pillow while he pulls out and pumps his cock in his own fist, coated with your own arousal before he splurts thick ropes of cum all over your cheeks and watches as it trickles down to your cunt. 

after a brief moment of catching his breath, bakugou reaches for the nearest tissue box and helps to clean off the mess you both made. you let your exhausted body fall onto the mattress and he throws the used tissues away before leaning back on the headboard next to you, still panting and trying to get down from his high. 

“you okay?” he breaks the silence, flicking his gaze towards you and rubs your head gently in hopes to soothe the pain he caused from pulling your hair so roughly. 

you hum, seeking for solace from his touch as he pulls the blanket up to cover your bodies and reaches for his phone on the nightstand with his other hand. you silently observe him as he looks at his phone, probably reading and scrolling through emails or texts like he’d usually do after having you wrecked. 

“love you, daddy.” you suddenly squeak, yet bakugou doesn’t tear his eyes from the screen and it leaves you unsure if he heard you or not. 

“hm.” his response is indifferent and your stomach churns into an unpleasant feeling; one you don’t appreciate at all. 

“daddy.” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “i said i love you.”

bakugou clicks his tongue and your heart shatters slightly at the sound, thinking that you probably just annoyed him, “yeah, i heard you.”

“bakugou.” you suddenly snap and the hand on top of your head stills. you don’t know where the courage to call him by his name comes from, but you want to convey your sobriety over the current situation and for what you’re about to say next. cold shivers run down your spine once his attention diverges towards you and he raises a questioning brow, ushering you to speak. 

“i-i love you–” you gulp, taking a deep breath. “like, i’m in love with you.” 

his stare is impassive and there’s an uncomfortable silence weighing the air between the two of you. your cheeks begin to warm up with humiliation and a part of you dreads with regret. you aren’t sure how long the deafening silence lasted before you see a twitch at the corner of his lips. 

“you gotta be kidding me.” he snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. 

you rise up on your side and your eyes waver with confusion as you look at him. “b-but you said you love me too. you do, r-right?”

he scoffs, mostly galled by the fact that he’s actually having this conversation with you– a dumb college girl, but he doesn’t expect much either. “why the hell would i be in love with you? did i knock your head?”

getting straight to the point is one of bakugou’s nature; his bluntness is like a sharp knife that stabs you in the heart. 

“but you said–”

“why do you think i only said it when i had my cock buried inside your cunt?”

and it twists painfully. 

“forget about it. go to sleep.” he nonchalantly replies and returns back to his phone, brushing off the wounded look that’s written all over your face.

you feel humiliated, angered and disregarded. given that you were always spoiled, you can’t stand having your feelings unreciprocated and rejection is one of the things you aren’t familiar with.

“why? because you have a wife? you don’t even love her–”

you flinch when you hear the loud thud of bakugou slamming his phone down on the bed, but it’s not as fearsome as the malicious glare he’s shooting at you. “don’t you fucking say that. i don’t wanna hear that, especially coming from a dumb whore like you.”

harsh reality gives you a massive slap in the face. 

your heart is hammering against your chest and your vision begins to blur as tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill out. you feel like you want to scream at him but the words you want to say only get caught in your throat. bakugou notices how you’re about to burst but he only rolls his eyes, expressing his vexation. 

“god,” he sighs exasperatedly and gets off from the bed to pick up his clothes from the floor. “the last thing i need is another fucking nuisance.”

“w-where are you going?” you croak as you watch him put on his clothes. 

bakugou turns to your direction and snarls, “what does it look like? leaving.” 

the pain in your chest becomes harder to bear, fat tears start to roll down your cheeks and when you try to reach for him, he coldly shoves your hand away. you saw how furious he could be through his phone calls but you were never on the receiving end; always the one who calmed him down and let him use you as a way to take out his frustrations on. now you’re nothing different than the rest of the people in his life, or maybe you were just too stupid to realize that you were never any different before too. 

“just leave when it’s time to check out. you’d know at least that much.” he scoffs as he walks to the door and twists the doorknob before turning back to you for what it seems would be the last time. 

“and don’t even think of finding me again.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[omg-just-peachy]

Hi hi! If you want, maybe gratefulness + blanket for stony? I’m just super soft for the thought of one of them being cold and the other bringing them a blanket to warm them up🥰 if this isn’t something you’d write, feel free to ignore this❤️

Also just want to say that I love everything you post and reblog sooo much, I always get so happy when I go to your blog💞

ahhh this is so cute. maybe tony coming home from work to take care of steve who is sick in bed ❤️

****

“Tony?” Steve’s voice, thick with sleep and congestion, makes Tony look up from his phone, and he pulls his tie loose as he walks over to the bed.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Tony says, dropping down to sit beside Steve on the side of the bed. He’s down with some kind of super soldier super flu, and has had just about every cold symptom known to man over the last few days. Mostly, though, Steve’s just tired, like he needs all the rest he can get for his body and the serum to do the work of putting him back together again.

Tony had been by his side for the better part of two days until this morning. As much as he’d hated to do it, Tony had a company full of people counting on him to speak at a board meeting today, and he’d been forced to leave Steve with all the cold and flu medicine, tissues, and fluids he could fit on their bedside table.

Deep down, Tony knows he’ll be fine. Bruce and Helen had told him as much, but…

But it’s Steve and Tony can’t help but worry when it comes to Steve.

“I swear I tried not to wake you,” Tony says. He lays a hand over Steve’s forehead, and when he’s satisfied he’s sleep-warm rather than fever-warm, moves his hand down his cheek, stroking the smooth line of his cheekbone. He smiles as Steve leans into the touch. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm okay. I was mostly awake anyway,” Steve says, though he yawns hugely. “Slept all day, pretty much. Don’t know the last time I did that, but I was probably at least a hundred pounds lighter,” he continues. “How was the meeting? I missed you,” he says, voice open and vulnerable in a way Steve rarely allows himself to be.

Tony waves a hand. “Same old,” he says. “I’d rather have been here, watching sleeping beauty do his thing.”

He means it, too, as much to his own surprise as anyone else’s. He really would rather be here with Steve than just about anywhere else. The idea of it would have scared him five years ago, but now… Now it just feels right. It explains why it never worked with anyone before now.

“Is that how that movie goes?” Steve smiles up at him, his eyes crinkling just a little at the corners, and Tony has to stop and wonder how someone could make even the most dreary days feel brighter when they’re feeling as bad as Steve has the last few days.

“Something like that,” Tony shrugs. Before he can say anything else, Steve gives a full body shiver, then shoots Tony an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I’m either freezing or sweating and there’s no in between,” he explains.

“What sorry? No sorry,” Tony says, getting up and pulling a throw blanket out of the closet and stretching it out over Steve, who settles into it.

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve says, giving him a grateful look.

That’s how Tony really knows he’s sick: normally Steve would be far too stubborn to admit he needs something, even something as seemingly inconsequential as this. Now, he sighs, content, and Tony can’t help but smiles at the sight of him, tucked up in their bed like this. He can so easily imagine that small, hundred-pound version of Steve Rogers, stuck in bed with the flu, reading or drawing all winter long surrounded by his mishmash of blankets.

“What?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s that look?” He already looks worn out, even though he just woke up.

Tony shakes his head, smiling slightly. “Glad to be home, that’s all. You need anything else? I can order that soup you like from the diner if you're hungry.

Steve yawns again, shaking his head. “M’good. Do need one more thing, though,” he says. He holds out a hand for Tony to come closer, then tugs on it until Tony’s sitting next to him again. “Mhm. Almost,” Steve says, shifting over in bed until there’s enough room for Tony to lay with him.

Tony’s half dressed, still in the suit pants and maroon silk shirt he wore to SI, though he slips the loose tie over his head and tosses it to the side. He slides into bed beside Steve, though, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and curling himself up around his sick boyfriend. He feels Steve relax against him almost immediately, and knows it'll be a matter of minutes before he's out like a light again.

“Warm enough now?” Tony asks as Steve nuzzles into him, breathing already evening out.

“Mm,” Steve sighs. “Good. Warm. Glad you’re home.”

Tony is, too.

[lomlwintersoldier]

Break Me Down II

Masterlist | Part 1

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: oof more sexual tension, mechanic!bucky

A/N: i wrote this over and over again and i realized it wasn’t working because I was trying to fit it al into 2 parts sooo....there will be a third part to tie all this up <3 

Since that day in the gym with you, Bucky can’t seem to get you out of his head. He finds that when he turns a corner, a part of him hopes he’ll run into you, to repeat the fleeting moments he’d had with you before. When he enters a room, his heart jumps in the half second it takes to find you, and when his eyes do land on you, it’s like he can hardly breathe. You’ve gotten under his skin and all the denial he felt previously about his feelings for you had disappeared. Your smile, your laughter, your darkening eyes when you're serious, and the way you look at him...he could bask in your stare forever. 

But, he can’t let on his feelings to you just yet so instead he chooses to work on the 1965 Ford Mustang that’s been sitting in his garage for weeks. He missed getting his hands greasy while he was dating Serena, she’d typically preferred when he focused all his energy on her so his own interests, such as fixing up “vintage” cars (seriously, he was older than this car by like 30 years) took a backseat. 

He heads down to the old, leftover garage at the back of the compound where he kept his beauty away from Tony’s Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and Porsches knowing the billionaire would make fun of him for having a relatively cheap and ordinary car. 

It’s pleasant to be out in the sun, working on his car, bathing in the summer heat as a light breeze blows through him every few minutes; it reminds him of the times he’d worked on various cars back in the day. Modern cars were so different from the old clunkers he used to fix up so it was a learning curve, but it wasn’t long before he fell into his rhythm and the hours passed like minutes.

It’s mid afternoon by the time he realizes he’s stuck on one of the final parts of the job. His hands, albeit expert and surprisingly delicate, were too big to get to the parts he needed deep in the hood of the car, and he sighs in frustration. He leans over the hood, hands gripping either side as he chews on the toothpick in his mouth quizzically.

Then, he has a wonderful idea.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   “Ms. Y/N, Mr. Barnes is requesting your presence in the garage.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice booms over the intercom, startling you from the book you were reading. 

“What? What does he need me for?” You inquire intently as you sit up on the couch, pushing the throw blanket that enveloped you away from your heated skin. 

“He simply requested your help. The task is undetermined,” her feminine yet robotic voice replies. 

Your heart jumps a bit although you can’t fathom what he could need your help with. Following that day in the gym, you’d found yourself holding your breath whenever you passed the common room, the kitchen, his room, just hoping that you could get a glimpse of him. You wanted his hands on you, to breathe his air, to look into those eyes again. 

And it appears you now have that opportunity.

The walk down to the garages feels endless and you find yourself walking quickly, too quickly. You didn’t want to seem as eager as your speed would show so you slow down to a snail's pace until finally, you reach the side of the compound you’re sure you’ll find him in.

You see him before he sees you and...damn. Does he look enticing. 

His back faces towards you as he bends over the hood of the vintage red car he’s working on, the white tank top he’s wearing gloriously displaying the black and gold arm the Wakandan’s gave him. Sweat glints on the exposed skin and you resist the urge to bit your lip. When he turns, a wide smile crosses his face and you suddenly feel like your cheeks are on fire. 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky calls out to you as you stride over. “Think you can help me sus out this problem with the engine?” 

You look at him quizzically as you plant your hands on your hips, glancing at the cherry red car before you. “I don’t really know anything about cars…” 

He grins, straightening up as he wipes his grease-covered hands on the towel he has tucked in the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to.” 

“I just need your hands,” he holds his flesh hand out for you, daring you to take it with a smirk on his face. 

“Come on, doll,” he laughs. “It’s not hard.”

You roll your eyes before placing your hand in his. Gently leading you by the hand to the front of the car, Bucky points at the mess of black parts that rest under the rather simplistic hood. “There's a part under here,” he gestures towards the left side of the car, “that I can’t get to. Hand’s too big.” He raises his large metal hand and wiggles his fingers playfully. A surprised laugh escapes your lips. “This is what you asked me to come out here for?” You ask incredulously.  “Do you know how far this place is from the main building?”

“You have small hands,” he chuckles as he takes your hand and presses his palm to yours, spreading your fingers to match his and he’s right. Your hands are far smaller than his.

But now, hand pressed to his, you're abruptly aware of his presence, of his large and imposing body that towers over you as he stares intently into your eyes. Locks of his dark hair have fallen out of his bun and frame his face, the strands so close to tickling your cheek. Your eyes drop to his lips and you think, I could just….he’s right here….

“We should fix this car,” you exclaim, breaking both of you out of the moment as you drop your hand from his. You spin away leaning both your hands on the car, focusing very hard on the engine in front of you. 

You can practically hear the smile in Bucky’s voice when he says, “alright doll, I need you to wiggle those pretty little fingers down...here.” 

He places your hand over where he wants you to go as he rests his other hand on your hip. Trying to not be too distracted by his touch, you follow his instructions, reaching through the tight crevice he was unable to worm his digits between. 

“Now take...this,” Bucky murmurs against your ear as he presses his chest to your back, handing you a part with the hand that just moments ago rested on your waist. He smells of sandalwood and cypress, a deliciously intoxicating aroma that is just wholeheartedly Bucky.

As you work, you realize you no longer have autonomy over your limbs. Your hands have become his as if you’re a marionette and he, the expert puppeteer. He guides you through the process, never letting your body move more than a few inches away from his as you listen intently to everything he whispers to you. 

As you connect the last part, you circle around to face him, parting yourself from his chest. In response, he leans forward, practically caging you in against the car. Breaths intermingle, hearts beat faster. 

Fuck it, you think. 

Without stopping to contemplate the choice you’re about to make, you lean up onto your toes, connecting your lips to his with a fervor that initially catches him off guard, but he quickly sinks into your kiss, his scorching hands falling to your waist as he pulls you against him. His tongue forces its way into your mouth as you entangle your fingers in his hair, almost pulling it as you fight for dominance. 

This kiss is filled with all the tension you’ve felt over the last couple of weeks, a desperate result of the stolen glances and held breaths in each others presences. So close and so far at the same time but now, in this moment, there is only the two of you, existing in perfect sync as you ride out this impatient longing together. 

When you finally pull away, you’re out of breath, but you leave your arms tangled around his neck as his drop to your hips, resting lowly enough that his fingers graze your ass.

“What was that?” He laughs as he brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“You were getting too cocky,” you smirk as you push away from him, beginning to strut away the same way he did with you all those days before but you’re suddenly yanked back by the hand. Faster than you can react, he's got you enveloped in his arms and he’s walking you backwards until your back hits the cold cement wall of the garage.

“What’re you-” Bucky cuts your words off by crashing his lips to yours. 

While the kiss was passionate before, there’s suddenly a need, an urgent craving that you can practically feel brewing beneath his skin, a hunger so deep you’re unsure you can satisfy him. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, keeping you so tightly pressed against him that you’re almost certain no one else exists, it’s Bucky, it’s just Bucky. All of him is almost overwhelming. This kiss is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, it sets your body on fire, ignites electricity in your veins and leaves you frantically reaching for more.  

“Was I, doll?” He murmurs heatedly against your lips. “Was I too cocky for you?” 

His hips dig into yours and you tear your face from his, breathless and gasping for air. He wastes no time in moving to your neck, sucking and kissing and biting, earning your quiet moans as he gyrates his pelvis to yours. Your legs have gone weak and the only thing keeping you standing is his waist pressed between your legs.

“Bucky!” You exclaim when he bites the sensitive skin just above your collarbones particularly hard. He takes your cry as a signal to move back up to your lips, giving you one last, harsh kiss before pulling away. 

But this time he doesn’t walk away. He keeps you pressed forcefully against him, the fiery heat between the two of you voraciously palpable as both of you try to catch your breath. 

“Come up to my room,” you breathe as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. His eyes fix on yours, his brow furrowing as your lips part in hunger, wanting more, wanting him. 

“You sure you want that, baby?” His right, flesh hand cups your cheek and you see a tinge of real concern in his eyes, despite the bravado in his voice.

Instead of responding, you lean up and gently bite the soft skin of his neck, earning a groan from his delicious mouth. 

“More than I’ve ever been.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Part: Coming soon! <3

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[contemplativepancakes]

Geralt is possibly the least interesting vampire in the world. Jaskier is strangely okay with that. 4k, G. read on AO3 here!

for @theamazingbard (:

Geralt holds up two ties in front of the mirror, comparing the fabrics against his suit. By now, he’s used to the headless suit that reflects back at him in the mirror. Geralt’s never been one to overly question things, so he couldn’t tell you why vampires don’t show up in mirrors, but really, that’s fine. A relief, even.

He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like. He knew once, before he was turned. He wasn’t exactly a looker then, and he highly doubts he is now.

Geralt chooses the black tie with the tiny dots instead of the black tie with the stripes, and clips it on to his suit. What? He can’t be expected to tie a tie every single day. He smooths it down over his chest. Satisfied, he sits down on the bed to tie his dress shoes. Reliable double knots.

He walks down the hall to crouch in front of the refrigerator, pulling out one of the bags of blood he keeps there. He pauses to look at the label. It’s his favorite, AB. He tucks it into his lunchbox, then pauses to rip one open and dump it into his travel mug. He pours some protein powder in it to make the blood coagulate. He can definitely see the appeal of this boba tea the humans have been drinking recently.

As he heads out the door, he darkens a little as he looks at his neighbors’ decorations. He hates Halloween. A time for people to get everything wrong about monsters. They live with them, the least they could do is be a little considerate and do their research.

No, they can’t repel Geralt with garlic. He scowls at the thought.

Geralt’s distracted from his thoughts as a young man runs by him out of seemingly nowhere and falls on the sidewalk just in front of him, his knee splitting open.

Geralt rubs a hand on his neck as the man looks up at him beseechingly.

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

“My, you’re ever so kind,” the man says, extending a hand that Geralt uses to pull him to his feet.

“Probably want to get that cleaned off,” Geralt says. “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh, dear! You’re right. Would it be possible for me to use your sink?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt squints. “I...guess?”

“Oh, thank you!”

Geralt unlocks his door and leads the man into his bathroom, graciously pretending not to notice the man looking around the apartment in wide eyed fascination. He must not know that Geralt is a vampire, then, or he wouldn’t be so quick to ask Geralt for help. People around here avoid Geralt for the most part.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man says, as he bends his leg so his knee is right under the faucet. Geralt politely looks away when he notices how the motion makes the material of his pants stretch right across the seat of his ass.

“Geralt,” he replies, watching Jaskier closely for a reaction.

There’s none, so Geralt kneels down and looks under the sink for his hydrogen peroxide. When he finds it, he hands it to Jaskier wordlessly.

Jaskier flashes him a winning smile. “I guess it was my lucky day to run into you, hmm?”

Geralt doesn’t think anyone has ever said that about him before. “Anyone would do what they could to help you avoid infection,” he says dutifully.

Jaskier deflates a bit. “Well, there must be some way I can repay you. How about coffee?”

“Oh. I don’t really...drink coffee.” Geralt waits for Jaskier to get it. It’s not like monsters like him are uncommon, per se.

“How about dinner, then? A steakhouse.”

“Sure,” Geralt says, surprising himself. He blinks. His brothers are always telling him he needs to make more friends. And a steak does sound particularly good. He rarely lets himself indulge in things like that.

Jaskier brightens. “Hey, would you mind putting a band aid on this for me? I can never get it to stay.”

“I’m not sure that applying band aids is exactly rocket science,” Geralt says, but he does it anyway, his nose twitching at the scent of the fresh blood.

Geralt is centuries old, though, so it’s not like a little blood is the end of the world. Maybe when he was a fledgling, but those days are long past him.

He gives Jaskier’s knee a tiny pat. “Looks like those pants are done in for,” he says inanely.

Jaskier shrugs. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Geralt doesn’t respond to that, and Jaskier lets the silence linger. Geralt clears his throat. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Before he leaves, Jaskier insists Geralt give him his number so that he can arrange their dinner. “I’m very much looking forward to it,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt gives him a hesitant smile, looking at the clock. He really does need to get a move on.

Jaskier seems to get the hint and lets Geralt usher him out the door.

In the end, Geralt’s not late, but he is grumpy that he only arrived five minutes early instead of his customary fifteen. It throws his entire day off, and the numbers seem to swim before him on his computer screen like never before.

Geralt scowls. He should have picked the tie with the stripes.

-

Jaskier contains his pout as he walks along the sidewalk, away from Geralt’s house. He practically offered himself up on a platter to be ravished, and Geralt was completely unaffected. There was blood right in front of his nose!

Jaskier doubts his information for a second, but Priscilla was the one who told him in hushed whispers that the word was that Geralt was a vampire. If Valdo had been the one to tell him, then he would have had a few more qualms, but Priscilla wouldn’t lie to him like that.

She knows how the idea of being partners with a monster makes him feel hot under the collar.

Jaskier resolves to be better. If a cut knee wasn’t enough, he’ll just have to step up his game for this dinner. And surely, if Geralt didn’t want to be seduced, he would have sent Jaskier on his merry way after bandaging his knee instead of bandaging it for him, for gods’ sake.

Maybe Geralt wants to be the one being chased after for once. Well, Jaskier is happy to oblige.

-

When Geralt gets home from work, there’s a text waiting for him. How about Friday night for our little get together?

It’s not like Geralt ever has any plans that might get in the way besides his weekly meeting, so it’s not like he has to check his calendar before he replies. Sure.

Great! I’ll pick you up at 8! :D

Geralt frowns. This doesn’t seem right. He hasn’t made a new friend in possibly fifty years, and now one literally falls into his path?

He hums to himself as he does his nightly routine, pushing on the gum above each fang to make it pop out so he can properly brush it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all that. Actual dentists that weren’t just going to try to pull out his teeth have only been around for less than the majority of his life, so it’s habit to take good care of them.

Geralt strips off his clothes until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed. No, he doesn’t have a coffin or hang upside down like some sort of bat. Geralt’s not sure where all that nonsense got its roots in the first place.

There’s so many things that humans seem to have no qualms believing about monsters, though, and Geralt frowns as he punches his pillow into a better shape. He’s almost 250. His lumbar health is no joke.

-

His anxiety bleeds into his work, making Excel blink more error messages back at him than he’s ever seen before. Geralt’s boss pulls him aside to ask if he’s okay. Geralt sulks.

He is the consummate professional, and he’s not going to let this dinner get the better of him. Geralt contends anyone would be nervous if they hadn’t made a new friend in decades, too.

Now, he stands in front of his closet. He’s certainly not going to wear a suit, but he rarely wears anything else. It’s not like he goes much of any place besides work and his weekly meetings. Geralt sighs as he pulls a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe.

They’re a lot tighter than he remembers, but this is all he has, so it’ll have to do. He finds a long sleeved shirt that is luckily on the baggier side. He hopes that will make up for his too-close fitting jeans.

Geralt brushes his hair, but he can’t see it in the mirror, so there’s no point in doing anything else with it. He’s more likely to make himself look ridiculous than presentable with whatever he might attempt.

Geralt plants himself on the couch, reaching for his book to read until the clock rolls around to the time Jaskier promised to pick him up. His fingers play with the corners of the pages, bending them in a way that he’s sure would make a librarian displeased.

Geralt huffs when he realizes he’s not going to get any reading done and sets the book down on his side table. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He is ancient; he shouldn’t be getting social anxiety right now.

His phone pings with a text. Outside!

Geralt looks out the window, and indeed, there’s a car there. It’s a lime green slug bug, with rust eating its way up from the undercarriage. Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. That looks like Jaskier’s car, all right.

-

Jaskier tries not to drool as Geralt walks down his steps. He’s wearing pants that are skin tight, which should frankly be illegal, and his shirt hangs off of him so that it shows his collar bones. Jaskier thought that vampires should be the ones who wanted to bite, but he would really love to get his mouth on one of those.

Geralt gets into the passenger seat with a half smile playing around his lips. “Like my ride?” Jaskier asks.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jaskier claps his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

Geralt hums, shifting in his seat as he fastens his seatbelt. Jaskier drums his fingers on the steering wheel, flexing his right arm to draw attention to the bandage he has there. He went and donated blood this afternoon, and if Geralt doesn’t get his hint this time, he is going to pound his head against the nearest wall.

-

Geralt shifts his head to look out the window as Jaskier keeps his arms on shameless display. He knows times have changed, but it’s also always a little dizzying to see so much of everyone’s skin on display all the time, their pulse thrumming invitingly underneath it.

Geralt shakes his head to clear it of its reverie as Jaskier pulls his car into drive. It gives a concerning lurch. Before Geralt can open his mouth to comment, Jaskier is holding up a hand. “I can assure you, we are perfectly safe.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests. “It is. I take care of it.”

“All I said was hmm,” Geralt says with a tiny grin. “That’s why it has so much rust, right?”

Jaskier sighs. “I was going to get around to repaint it, and then I just...other things came up.”

Geralt makes a face at him, laughing at Jaskier’s increased defenses. Some of his anxiety fades away as he realizes this isn’t so bad, after all. Maybe Jaskier needs a new friend just as badly as him.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jaskier pulls Geralt’s chair out for him. Geralt gives him a polite nod. He can’t say he has a firm grasp on all the recent customs. Lambert’s always telling him he’s stuck in the past.

Geralt crosses his fingers and rests his chin on his hands as he watches Jaskier eat his salad, taking endearingly large bites. Jaskier hasn’t even mentioned anything about vampires yet. Geralt is starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. Would he still want to spend all this time with him if he knew Geralt wasn’t human?

As he’s thinking that, Jaskier takes a big gulp of his water and starts to sputter. Geralt’s across the table in an instant, his hand around Jaskier’s bicep and another hand on his back. “Are you okay?” Geralt murmurs, tense and ready to help if the need arises.

Jaskier coughs and waves him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Geralt relaxes a bit, but as his hand lingers on Jaskier’s arm, he can’t help but feel how warm it is, such a contrast to his own constantly cool skin. When Jaskier turns his face to look up at him, Geralt quickly drops his arm and beats a hasty retreat back to his seat.

He could swear Jaskier looks disappointed. He must be delusional.

When the main course comes, Geralt cuts neatly into his pink steak, mouth watering as the juices come leaking out of it. He sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste of it.

He makes himself cut the steak into tiny pieces. He’ll have to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire eventually; he might as well make sure he doesn’t think he’s a barbaric onel. Geralt tries his best to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face instead of his arms. He can’t help but notice that he has some very nice veins. They’re a striking blue, and a perfect compliment to his eyes.

Geralt bites his lip, flinching when one of his fangs pops out on its own, pressing into his lip.

“One of my uncles is a werewolf,” Jaskier says, apropos of nothing, looking at Geralt meaningfully.

A trickle of sweat runs down Geralt’s back. Does Jaskier think he’s a werewolf? Werewolves are generally regarded better than vampires; at least they’re only monsters one night a month.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, not hearing the rest of Jaskier’s sentence.

Jaskier laughs at his own joke, and Geralt blinks rapidly until he can focus again on what Jaskier’s saying.

When the waiter comes with the check, Jaskier insists on paying for it. Is this what friendship has evolved to since Geralt last had one? He doesn’t know enough about it to argue with Jaskier, so he lets him do what he wants.

-

Outside of Geralt’s house, Jaskier puts a hand on the console between them, making eye contact with Geralt before dropping his gaze down to his lips. Geralt gives him a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling. His white hair looks ethereal in the moonlight, and Jaskier is only a little infatuated.

Geralt’s exterior is stony, but he also had no problems giving Jaskier all sorts of secret smiles throughout the night. Jaskier’s not sure he’s met a better listener than Geralt, and he tends to drone on and on, so that’s somewhat important to him.

Jaskier closes his eyes and starts to lean in when Geralt opens the car door. Jaskier opens his eyes.

“I had a great time, thank you,” Geralt says, one hand on the top of the car.

Jaskier bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants. “Me, too. Let’s do it again some time?”

Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier watches him walk away, his gaze fixed on Geralt’s devastating pants and not at all on the way his ass looks in them.

Jaskier rests his head on the steering wheel in despair. He doesn’t know how to be any more heavy handed than this. He went and donated blood! And Geralt let him pay for their meal! He’s not sure how he can get across the point any better that he’s a talking blood bag, and he’s open for business.

Jaskier heaves a gigantic sigh and resolves to go home and plot his next move.

Maybe Geralt’s just shy.

Well. Jaskier can work with that

-

Geralt’s weekend passes in its normal fashion. He goes for a run, drinks some blood out of his supply in the fridge, then crashes on the couch for a whole day while he thinks of anything other than work. Sometimes Eskel lets himself in using his key, but he doesn’t that weekend, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he tortures himself thinking of what Eskel might be doing.

Eskel’s never had problems making friends, unlike Geralt, so he’s sure he’s out having a good time with them.

Geralt used to be good at making friends, gods damn it, before all of them died of old age and he just didn’t see the point anymore. He’s come to suppose that there’s not all that much of a point in immortality if all he does is work, though.

The weekend’s over just as quickly as it began, and on Monday night, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when Jaskier texts him about some inane thing he noticed. Was he thinking of Geralt? That’s...nice.

Cautiously, Geralt lets himself hope that something is going to come out of this.

But first, he needs to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t be the first person to run away screaming, even though they are much more accepted now than they used to be.

Geralt shudders as he thinks of the industrial revolution. No regard for any monsters then. Humans invent light bulbs, and all of a sudden they think they’re too good for a healthy dash of respect.

Geralt looks back down at his phone, at a music video Jaskier sent him of someone playing a singing saw.

He lets himself focus on that a while.

-

Wednesday creeps around, and with it, Geralt’s weekly meeting.

He takes his spot in his customary chair, and looks around for Lambert, ignoring the look Eskel is trying to burn through the side of his face with.

“Why do I have to be here, again?” Geralt asks, when he gives up on Lambert to come save him.

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s an argument they’ve had more than once. “If you won’t become a sponsor, you have to at least show them that things get better.”

Geralt huffs a breath out through his nose as he watches the regulars file in. There’s one new person, and Geralt eyes her curiously. She looks a little terrified, and Geralt softens in sympathy.

The meeting starts, and they go around in the circle, the seat beside Geralt still empty in Lambert’s tardiness.

“Hi, I’m Geralt, and I’m a blood addict,” he drones when it’s his turn.

When they’ve moved on to their personal struggles for the week, Lambert finally appears, dropping into his chair.

He elbows Geralt, seemingly unaware of everyone staring at them.

“Hey, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Geralt firmly fixes a scowl in place and ignores him. He’s not sure why he even wanted Lambert to show up in the first place.

Geralt leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listens to everyone else, Eskel being disgustingly reassuring to them all, as per usual. Geralt stamps the jealousy down. It’s not Eskel’s fault he’s so good with people.

The meeting drags by, and when it’s finally over, Lambert doesn’t let Geralt just sneak away. He digs his elbow into his side again, holding Geralt by the shoulder. “You didn’t answer me earlier. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not,” Geralt says.

Lambert hums. “You don’t have your usual storm cloud above your head, so I’m going to count it.”

Geralt scowls at him and looks at Eskel for back up, but Eskel just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I hate you both,” Geralt grumbles.

“You love us,” Lambert says.

“Fine. I made a new friend,” he grates out.

Lambert and Eskel exchange an insufferable look.

“What?” Geralt demands.

“You, make a friend? Well, we’re just going to have to hear all about this to believe it.”

Geralt huffs, but he tells them about Jaskier.

“He took you to dinner? And paid? And you think he wants to be just friends?” Lambert asks.

Geralt flaps his hands around and hisses, “Look, I’ve barely been anywhere that isn’t here or work in the last three decades, how am I supposed to keep up with all this human nonsense? And besides, I haven’t even told him I’m a vampire yet. I’ll be lucky if he even wants to be my friend after that.”

Eskel bites his lip. “You know that’s a turn on for some humans, right?”

“What?”

“And you said he scraped his knee the first time he saw you? Geralt, I think he already knows, and he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

Geralt deflates. That makes a twisted sort of sense. “Oh.”

Lambert punches him in the arm. “Hey, lighten up. If anyone can charm him with their stunning personality, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

-

It’s difficult to fall asleep that night.

-

A week goes by without him answering any of Jaskier’s texts. He still painstakingly reads and savors each one, but he can’t bring himself to reply. If he was looking for some sort of...fling, he would have gone on one of those apps Eskel keeps telling him about.

As pathetic as it sounds, he could really use a friend. And if sex came later, well, Geralt wouldn’t complain, but he just desperately needs someone who’s going to stick around. He needs someone just for himself, someone outside of Lambert and Eskel who isn’t going to tease him about every little thing.

Geralt sighs. This was at least good practice. Maybe he can try again with someone else.

His heart sinks at the thought. He doesn’t really want someone else. Jaskier wormed his way into his chest in just a week, and Geralt knows he could yank him out with only a little pain if he tried, he doesn’t want to.

Geralt wants to have something nice, for once.

-

Jaskier bites his lip as he peers out the car window at Geralt’s house. He’s half scared there’s not going to be an answer when he knocks, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He thought their date went swimmingly, so he’s not sure why Geralt suddenly stopped answering him unless something happened.

Jaskier has a vision of getting into the house only to find Geralt on the floor, the only way to revive him being letting Geralt drink straight from his neck, obviously leading to Geralt ravishing him against the nearest wall.

Jaskier shakes himself like a dog. Geralt’s given him no interest in anything like that at all. Maybe he needs to lower his expectations. The dude seems lonely, anyway, so maybe he just wants someone to talk to that’s not one of his coworkers.

Geralt told him he’s an actuary, and from the questions he asked of Geralt and Geralt didn’t answer, he’s not convinced that Geralt talks to his coworkers at all.

Jaskier blows out a puff of breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s not sure what he hopes is going to happen when he opens the door.

He walks up the door and knocks.

He waits an agonizing moment before the door swings open, revealing Geralt. He looks even paler than Jaskier remembered him, wearing a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch that he can see Geralt’s plaid boxers through and a t-shirt with a collar that’s outrageously stretched. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Have you considered not oiling the hinges? I think it would do you a world of good to develop a creaky door aesthetic.”

Geralt’s forehead wrinkles adorably. “What?”

“Just, you know. Being a vampire and all.”

Geralt slumps against the door frame. “How long have you known?”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to be confused. “Known what?”

“That I’m a vampire!”

“Oh.” Jaskier pauses. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Geralt’s hand pauses in its path of trailing the wood grain of the door. “Do you have a...kink?” he spits.

Jaskier raises his hands. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Geralt fixes him with an unconvinced look.

“Look, that might have been part of the initial intrigue, but—”

Geralt raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“But, you’re really fucking hot and also possibly the most boring person I know, but...I’m into it. You know all these weird facts and—gods know I could use a little stability in my life.”

Geralt gives him a bashful smile, and Jaskier wonders if anyone has said anything nice to him at some point this century. “Yeah?”

Jaskier leans across the threshold and cups Geralt’s face with his hands, their mouths a breath apart. “Yeah.”

[slytherinwh0re]

Black suits and little black dresses

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni) and swearing

Summary: Where you and Draco attend a fancy dinner party and can’t seem to keep your eyes off each other. 

Masterlist

Suits. 

You love suits, more specifically you love your boyfriend in his signature all black fitted suits. The contrast of the dark material against his pale skin was such a striking sight it had every woman and even some men in the room turning to look. Not that you could blame them, Draco Malfoy in a suit was something you wouldn’t want to miss. 

The slytherin looked expensive. 

Handsome and rich, everything the Malfoy heir should be. The cufflinks on his dress shirt were worth more than half the people in this room. His hands were adorned with rings that could feed all of the Weasley’s for the rest of their lives, the one with his family crest truly was an eye catcher, or maybe they just love how his hands look as much as you do. 

The difference between you and them is that they’ll never know how his long fingers feel stretched across their throats. 

Everything about Draco is attractive to you, his silky hair and strong jawline would have you dropping to your knees for him in seconds but that damn suit did things to you. That’s why you’re wearing the little black dress you know drives him just as crazy, it’s no wonder you’d caught each other staring quite a few times already.

That’s how these things would always go, you’d both be forced into these fancy dinner parties, you’d have to talk to the snobby guests, and you’d barely see each other because these people are like vultures for attention. All they see when they look at either of you is rich and beautiful, the perfect candidates for a marriage contract. 

That’s why you love each other so much, you see Draco for who he is, and he see’s you for who you are. 

“You know how much I love you in that dress,” you instantly recognize his voice, the deep drawl of it makes you shiver as you turn to face him. 

“And you know how much I love this suit,” his smirk only grew bigger when he noticed the goosebumps on your skin from the light touch of his finger drawing mindless patterns on your arm.

“Why’d you think I had 10 of the same one made?”

The blonde scanned the room quickly, making sure no one was looking before dragging you into an empty corridor, and apparating you both straight to his bedroom in the manor. 

Your lips found each other’s immediately. That’s how these nights always ended, in his bedroom, or anywhere private really, while your parents try to make up excuses for your disappearances. This was the best part of the evening.

Hands were everywhere, yours in his hair and clutching his previously perfectly pressed dress shirt and his were under your dress, dragging down the panties that’ve been ruined for most the night. Everything about this was needy, you craved each other and you both knew it because no matter what you told yourselves, these parties were hard on you. The need to be perfect was lifted as soon as you were in each other’s arms.

“Draco, fuck!” He slid his fingers around your clit, rubbing slowly and with the perfect amount of pressure. You moved quickly, unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his tie. Oh how you love that tie.

He shook off the shirt but grabbed the black tie before it could fall to the ground, his fingers working you to the point where it was hard to stand. As soon as you got his belt undone he was turning you around to face his bed, the front of his body was pressed against your back, he nipped at your neck as you grinded back into him. 

“Bend over darling, I’m gonna fuck you in that pretty little dress,” Draco whispers in your ear, gently biting down on the lobe before letting go so you can do as your told. The mirror on the other side of the bed allows you to watch him as you bend over, ass in the air, and face on the mattress.

He moans at the sight, running both hands over the curve of your ass before flipping the skirt of your dress up, exposing your wet cunt to him. The slytherin looks at you through the mirror as he slowly steps out of his dress pants and boxers.

“Give me your hands,” once again you do as your told, watching in fascination as he takes the tie he had hanging around his neck and uses it to tie your wrist together behind your back, God you fucking love that tie “you look so pretty like this, all tied up and ready for me.”

“Draco, please,” you beg. That sexy smirk is back on his face, loving how desperate you are to feel him as you grind yourself against him, begging him to fuck you.

He takes his time teasing your entrance, sliding through your wet folds before dipping the tip of his cock into you only to pull back out and slap your ass. You’re a mess at this point, the boy has you begging but your pleas only seem to egg him on, when you try burying your face into the mattress his fingers grab your hair, forcing you to watch what he’s doing to you.

“If you look away I won’t let you finish, be a good girl for me darling,” you nod your head vigorously, following his eyes as he slides into you. He starts out slow, his thrusts deep, pulling all the way out before pushing back in.

The first moan of his name with his cock in you has him picking up the pace, one hands slapping your ass and the other’s holding your tied wrists as you push yourself back onto him, the desire you feel for him needing to be sated. You don’t let your eyes leaves Draco’s face, the pleasure etched on it makes you clench around him.

“So fucking tight.”

“Faster Draco! I need it faster, please!”

He goes faster, your skin slaps together with every deep thrust of his hips, your name leaving his mouth. When his hand pushes down on your lower back you know you won’t last much longer, the angle makes you scream and he’s telling you how sexy you look.

“Cum on my cock, let me see your pretty face when you cum darling.” His hand reaches around, rubbing your clit and the other hold your wrists as you look at each other through the mirror.

Your legs shake as you clamp around him, feeling your body tremble as he keeps wrecking you, searching for his own high. Your ears are ringing and you watch him tense behind you before he spills into you leaving both of you satisfied for the night.

He unties your wrists before turning you around to leave sweet kisses on your lips and whispering words of admiration in your ear.

“You know those parties aren’t too bad when I have this to look forward to.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

*

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