#I'm bullshitting their clothes so I'm not sure what year it's set

[nomaejie]

Master Damian x Maid (spy) Anya 

 Anya tried horseback riding for the first time. Later they return to the mansion

Anya: It was fun. Next time we should bring 2 horses.

Damian: ...

Anya: (He doesn't look happy at all! Damn I accidentally asked too much for a servant! He'll hate me. This is not good for the mission!)

Damian: (She doesn't like riding with me..? Pffft, it's not that I like it or anything! It's just out of habit that I only brought one horse!)

Here is the plot. I bullshiting their clothes so I’m not sure what year its set:

The sudden death of the King forced the young prince to ascend the throne, which caused turmoil in the court. The nobility did not submit to the New King because he was too young. The New King, while taking on a new role, opened an investigation into his father's sudden death. He appealed to the Imperial Knights' underground knight squad - WISE. The best spies are sent into the houses of the nobles one after another to investigate the clues about the assassin of the Old King, and at the same time to spy on their loyalty to the New King. Loid, one of the knights of WISE, he is normally pretending to be a writer, with his wife Yor - a gardener, and his adopted daughter Anya. By order of the king, he was tasked with infiltrating the Desmond family. Speaking of the Desmonds, they are a family that has served the royal family faithfully for two centuries. That also means about the level of power of the Desmond family. Which side they sided with would have enormous influence over the fledgling dynasty. However, Desmond's family is known to be extremely reserved, with a limited number of servants, rarely changing. Getting in is extremely difficult. Coincidentally, the Desmonds were in need of a new maid. Loid's daughter, Anya, feels this is a golden opportunity to help her father, so she volunteered to accept the mission. Although very dissatisfied, he agreed to let his daughter perform the task. Instead, Loid will be on an outside investigation mission. Damian, the second son of the Desmonds, 17 years old. He seems to like Anya at first sight and likes to bully her. In an impulsive moment, Anya succumbed and gave Damian a punch. It was thought that the mission would end from here, but Damian did not fire Anya but also concealed the incident for her with the excuse that "it would be embarrassing if this story got out". He "punishes" Anya by making her his personal maid. He likes to command the girl constantly and make her follow him whenever he can (this greatly hinders Anya's mission). However, he was no longer acting as exaggerated as before. Their friendship gradually blossomed.

[venus-haze]

No Other Gods Before Me (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: Love is everything. Love is God. Homelander is love. Maybe you are, too. 

Note: Gender neutral supe reader, and no descriptors are used. Takes place in season 1 during the Believe Expo. Inspired by Starlight’s comment that she didn’t have a crush on Homelander growing up because “he was like Jesus or something.” I'm sorry it took me so long to write another Homelander fic! Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Extremely unhealthy relationship, power imbalance (unclear as to who, as the reader has unspecified psychic powers), warped elements of Christianity. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander saw them clear as day. The tears welling up in your eyes as you walked down to the baptismal pool. He barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. For all of his pandering, he was never fond of religious types–especially religious supes. You should know better than to buy into this bullshit, a cheap substitute for simple minds that couldn’t comprehend the modern gods that put the miracles of every religious text to shame.

Still, he held out his gloved hand for you to take, and you did, gingerly, as if his physical presence would be too much to bear. 

Homelander had his fair share of admirers, but the reverent gleam in your eyes was nothing short of disarming. His name came from your lips in a soft, pious prayer before you hit the water.

You emerged from the chlorinated depths reborn, staring at him in a moment of blissful awe. “You are love,” you whispered, only loud enough so he could hear. And it stunned him. So much so that he couldn’t protest when you were ushered out of the pool, wet clothes clinging indecently to your skin. You disappeared with your fresh towel, and he resisted the urge to drown the rest of the devout in line to find you.

There was still time. Believe Expo wasn’t quite over yet. Surely you’d still be milling about, in some ridiculous prayer circle or buying one of the cheap trinkets the numerous grifters shilled. He’d never read the Bible, not all of it. Bits and pieces to understand what people were talking about, and a few feel-good verses up his sleeve for speeches and interviews. None of it made him understand what all of the fuss was about, anyway. Why his birthday wasn’t a months-long celebration, a cultural phenomenon. All Vought gave him was a TV special and a cake. It wasn’t the spectacular frenzy that people anticipated all year.

His fists clenched. 

He found a volunteer who didn’t look all that busy, and offered a selfie with them before asking a favor. People would do just about anything for him, regardless, but posing his demands as if they were helping him out tended to get things done faster. As soon as the words left his mouth, the volunteer set off to find you. He retreated to his dressing room, waiting impatiently for your arrival.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” you asked, your distant voice growing louder as you approached.

“Homelander’s the best,” the volunteer agreed.

“Don’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“That warmth when you’re in his presence, something divine.”

“Well, he was chosen by God.”

“You don’t get it at all, do you,” you said, disappointment evident in your voice, just on the other side of his dressing room door.

He tried not to appear too eager when you entered, though you were in different clothes than before. Couldn’t expect you to spend the rest of the day walking around in soaking wet clothes, though part of him hoped you would.

“I knew we’d see each other again,” you said, not at all surprised by him summoning you.

He tilted his head, regarding you with suspicion. You didn’t seem like you were fucking with him, but he couldn’t be sure. “In the baptismal pool, you said I was love.”

You nodded. “Love is eternal. Love can conquer anything.”

“Love is God,” he said.

“I prayed to you, because I knew you could hear me,” you confessed quietly. “You’re the one.”

Your sincerity was genuine, the way your heart beat in time for him, tearful eyes glistening with an unprecedented devotion. Without an outstretched, gloved hand, he cupped your cheek, caressing it in his first act of blessing. Anointing you first. A ragged breath emerged from his parted lips. His dove, his lamb, his to guide and nurture the way these abstract figments couldn’t. You would be his Mary Magdalene, his Saint Paul, unceasingly devoted in your worship of him, proselytizing the good word to the masses. 

And why shouldn’t they worship him? Look at him with the same admiration and awe that you did? Power in the blood, his blood, to save and damn as he saw fit. After all, he didn’t need to die to offer salvation. No great sacrifices on his part to provide for those who were worthy. The sky had been empty when he explored it, all the way up past the atmosphere, farther than anyone could possibly go until he reached the vast emptiness of space itself and found himself alone. Homelander wasn’t an unknowable god. He walked among the masses, pandered to their sensitivities because he knew just how small and insignificant they were.

He’d read about the more extreme acts of devotion to gods in the past. Self-flagellation. Human sacrifice. Vows of poverty. Pathetic and desperate attempts to appease a supposedly powerful higher being who did nothing to help his people when they cried out for him. But Homelander was there. And just like you’d said, he could hear everything. He required so much less of people yet offered so much more. 

“You’re the only one who sees me for what I am,” he murmured. 

You nodded gently, your cheek rubbing against his glove. 

He leaned in to kiss you, and you reciprocated without hesitation, pressing your lips to his, allowing yourself unprecedented closeness with the divine. Consume and be healed, forgiven, saved. Kissing you felt purposeful, made his heart race and his brain feel fuzzy.

Warmth washed over him, and for a moment the suspicious part of him wondered if this divine haze was related to your powers. Something about being able to get into people’s heads, mess with their emotions. He wasn’t sure. There was no reason for you to be on his radar before the spiritual encounter.

When you whispered his name against his lips like a prayer, he nearly choked. Devout. Unconditional. He held onto you tightly, lips attached to yours in his own act of worship.

Love was everything. Love was God. Homelander was love. Maybe you were, too. 

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie's palms were sweating like crazy. There used to be moments when he was gratetul for this less obvious sign of nervousness, but at times like this it was bloody inconvenient. The chalk dust clung to his fingertips as he worked on his summoning circle under the archmage's watchful eye, an eye that was waiting for a single mistake that would warrant another disqualification. A third one in the last three years.

It was all bullshit as his best friends Nancy and Chrissy had told him. They both were younger and had the same skill. Sure, Nancy's intellect was through the roof and Chrissy studied with a rigid motivation of someone who wanted to leave their stifling family behind, but Eddie wasn't bad at all. Hell, he grasped the intricacies of magic almost naturally and in another world, he would have been praised, supported by all his peers and professors.

Yeah, right. That would be a world where he wasn't a filthy commoner.

Sure, magic didn't choose blood or status or a full set of silver cutlery in one's mouth, but oh did the upper class love to pretend. "We have magic in our bloodline," they lied through their teeth. And so when a kid of a petty thief showed magic potential surpassing the one of their coddled kids, they were aghast. They scoffed at his long unruly hair, at his cheap dark clothes, at the extra shifts his uncle had to take to keep him in the academy. They tried to get rid of him so many times, unfair test questions, discriminatory behavior, bullying...Eddie saw it all and guess what, he didn't care. As his wise uncle told him "they see you as a cockroach, boy. So become one. Show them how persistent you can be, make them wish they let you graduate."

Eddie adored his uncle, if that wasn't clear. That man was hard working and smart. If the world was worth anything, he would have been an alchemist, with his precise mind and nimble hands. But since world was shit and unfair, he was just a helper for one, although a great and kind one, Scott Clarke. Eddie was happy for his uncle, for the companionship he found in Scott, but there was inherent bitterness in him that wouldn't leave.

See, the issue with Eddie was - he had no clear goal, no illuminated path in his future. He wanted to explore magic, see what it had to offer. Where others had a clear destination, like Nancy with her passion for magical channels of communication or Chrissy and her focus on healing magic and diagnostics, Eddie was...untethered. He wanted to do anything and everything and he worried that this would be his downfall this time too. Because that's exactly what the whole summoning ritual hinged on.

Eddie wiped his hands on his pants, earning a disapproving scoff from the archmage. "Magic demands grace and dignity," that's what the asshole always said before elegantly wiping his mouth with a napkin or drying his sweaty brow with a white handkerchief. Eddie wanted to kick him in the shin and see how elegant he looked toppling over.

Just a few more chalk lines, no use in delaying the inevitable. This was the final exam of the senior year, but also a crucial skill that Eddie simply had to master. Because each mage needed a companion from the other side, that was the law. It didn't matter if you summoned a fae, a zephyr, a demon or even a wailing ghost of your grandma who decided to stay in the world beyond instead of moving on, you needed a companion to help with channeling of magic, amplifying it. Some mages kept the same companions for decades, other went through a series of brief companionships to find what they needed.

If Eddie only knew what he needed. That's what he was supposed to do - enter the circle, open a gate to the other world and project his ambitions, his desires. Which were, as usual, all over the place.

"I'm ready," he told the archmage as he stood up and dusted off his hands, creating more white smears on his pants.

The older man just rolled his eyes. He seemed to be in his fifties, with thick hair and just one or two strands of grey. But who knew, magic didn't really make aging normal. "I will believe it when I see it, Mr. Munson. You have yet to surprise me."

Eddie bit back a scorching remark and cracked his fingers, getting ready. He forced on a wide smile and waved at his friends who had, as expected, aced the exam. Nancy was chatting with her companion, a storm elemental (her name was Robin, as he would learn later, and she could speak so fast only Nancy was able to understand). Chrissy stood next to a tall dryad, Barbara, and gave Eddie a thumbs up, beaming at him. "You got this!" she mouthed at him and, with a brief whisper, made Barbara join in a very awkward cheer.

"Okay, here I go," muttered Eddie and entered the circle. His fingertips sparkled as he touched the prepared runes, activating them. He had one brief moment to take it all in, the scowl on the archmage's face, Nancy's quiet and confident smile and Chrissy's radiance, before the runes rose in a circle around him and obscured everything.

He blinked at the swirling colors around him, whispered voices. "Hello?" he called out, hearing the echo of his own voice. "My name is Eddie...um. I mean, Edward Munson and I am searching for a companion."

The voices sounded closer, but not close enough. He hadn't offered anything yet, so he wasn't too discouraged. "Um. I am looking for someone who would like to explore the world of magic with me. The possibilities it has and who is maybe looking to find themselves too..."

His voice trailed off. He sounded silly even to himself, not to mention to the creatures, spirits and demons in the realm. But just as he was about to quickly make up a goal, just to attract someone, he heard whispering in his ear. It sounded both melodic and dissonant, single and split. "You're intriguing. Intriguing enough to consider your offer. Say, Eddie. You seem open to everything, but...is there something that you really, really want? A desire you have? Something a companion could help you accomplish?"

Had Eddie been someone with a milder temperament, he would have explained how he hoped his success would open the door for more people like him, to change how elitist magic was. But he wasn't that, he was Eddie and he didn't feel like starting his first companionship with a lie.

"I want to succeed so much that the archmage will lose all of that fucking powdered hair," he grinned into the swirling void. "I want him to look at me, the first trash commoner mage, and know that despite being way more powerful and influential and whatever else, he couldn't get that scrawny kid to quit, no matter how many times he unfairly failed me. I want to make him feel like he's sucking on a lemon whenever he sees me. I want to become a living proof that he was wrong."

There was laughter in his ears and this time he realized - it wasn't one voice but two. One seductive and feminine, the other amused and slightly bitchy, belonging to a man.

"Well, Eddie," whispered the woman and Eddie shivered from her warm breath.

The man leaned in too, into his other ear. "We can help you with that."

And just like that, the magical void dissolved and two warm hands found their way into his.

Eddie emerged into the great hall to a series of gasps, cheers and curses. Chrissy was jumping up and down on her toes, clapping. Nancy seemed to be stuck between shock and serious amusement. And the archmage...well. That was something else.

But Eddie had manners so instead of reacting to any of them, he turned towads his companions. Two beings at once wasn't exactly common and Eddie had to understand who exactly he invited into his life.

He didn't have to recall much of his lectures on the other world to realize that his companions were demons. And not just any type, no. He gulped as he offered his hand again. "Thank you for answering my call. As I said before, I'm Eddie. Human, obviously."

The female demon was almost as tall as him, but unlike him she was gorgeous. Her thick brown hair fell to her strong shoulders in gentle waves and her amber eyes sparkled with mischief. She had moles and beauty marks all over her beautiful face. "Pleasure to join you, Eddie. Stevie, a succubus." She winked at him and shook his hand. "Obviously," she whispered.

She nudged him to the male demon, eerily similar to her, but where she was seductive he was snarky. Which...was doing equal things to Eddie's insides. Not only. "Steve," he said and squeezed his hand with a deliciously calloused hand. "Not a succubus, obviously, but an incubus. Pleasure indeed."

Eddie felt a bit manic. The wide smile on his face was starting to hurt but he couldn't bring himself to care and when Stevie used her tail to examine the chains on his belt, he wondered if the butterflies in his stomach weren't actually a stomach infection. "Uh...sorry if that's a stupid question, but are you...are you twins?"

He expected a scoff or a simple yes, but the look that Stevie and Steve exchanged wasn't clear at all. He wondered if he might have offended them, but Steve ended up throwing his arm around Eddie's shoulders and pulled him close. Yep, definitely a stomach bug because the butterflies were off the charts. "That's a bit complicated. We'll explain in a bit, but now..." The bitchy smirk on Steve's face was everything and as he whispered into Eddie's ear, Eddie couldn't help but snort. This was pure gold.

Standing between his companions and wrapping each arm around their waists, Eddie smiled at the archmage, pale and looking like he was ready to vomit all over his summoning circle.

"So, archmage Harrington," drawled Eddie and Stevie snickered next to him, "have I finally managed to surprise you?"

As Steve and Stevie raised their hands and, in a single voice, said sweetly "hi dad!", Eddie felt like his goal of giving the old pompous fart a heart attack was just within reach.

[imliketheiceifreeze]

Norman Nordstrom x reader

A rose by any other name- part 2

Warnings: Violence, smut, age gap, abuse, abduction, minors DNI

1,916 words

You'd walked past his house many times since your last meeting, However the old man never seemed to be home.

'He probably thinks your some kind of creep.'

You thought to yourself as you rounded the corner to his house for the fifth time that week. Obsession like this isn't healthy and you knew it, your parents always wondered what you did on your little walks around the block, you could never tell them it was to satiate your fascination with a 70 year old man, they'd surely look at you like some kind of mental patient.

A strong arm around your waist ripped you out of your thoughts as another held what felt like cloth to your mouth. An acrid smell filled your nostrils as you struggled against the limbs that caged you to no avail.

"Shh sweetheart, don't fight it."

A voice you vaguely recognised growled into your ear as the world around you went dark and you collapsed into the stranger.

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

You awoke, shivering cold, laying on what seemed to be a bed. As you slowly took in your surroundings you quickly noticed you wrist was tightly handcuffed to the bed-post. You struggled against it, wearily, knowing deep down there was no use in fighting. However, the noise seemed to alert your captor, as heavy footsteps rapidly approached the room in which you lay. Deep dread filled your body as your breath caught in your throat. You couldn't believe who stood before you-the white beard, the scar underneath his vacant eye. It was him. It was Norman.

"You're awake, good."

He spoke matter-of-factly, slowly approaching the bed to which you were bound.

"Now don't struggle, I understand this might be difficult for you to accept but just let me speak for a moment."

The irony of your silence didn't escape you as he sat beside you on the bed, feeling around for your leg before patting it warmly.

"I intend for you to be my wife and eventually, I hope you will bear me the that child I lost. I know this won't be too hard for you considering your feelings for me..."

You were gobsmacked. Was this some kind of sick proposal? However, another twisted part of you felt delighted at the lengths this man would go to to have you, something you weren't used to considering your average looks and demure personality.

"Are you being serious? You're going to lock me up here like some kind of dog, let me out you sick fuck!"

You spat at him, partially in anger but mostly powered by fear as you gripped onto your cuffed hand, yanking it with all the force in your body.

"Hmm."

He grumbled, gripping your leg more harshly making you yelp in pain, stopping your struggle with the cuffs to grab his hand in an attempt to stop the pressure.

"So you were just leading me on with all that bullshit then? You act like that around every man you meet like some kind of whore?"

He spoke bitterly

"Norman!"

You exclaimed between breaths,

"This is not exactly the way you go around asking a girl out you know."

You huffed, eventually managing to pry his hand off your thigh.

"But I can keep you safe in here, you really want to live out there where people steal, murder..."

He trailed off sadly, making the sympathy bubble in your gut. For fucks sake am I actually sympathising with the man that has me tied up in his house right now?

"Norman,"

you breathed again, leaning to rest a hand on his shoulder. You could see the pain in his eyes, the world had taken so much from one man, who would you be if you couldn't provide him with some form of comfort? He faced you, confusion set in his face,

"please let me go. I'll stay with you, I won't leave, but I have a life too, a job. It doesn't mean I'm going to disappear."

You spoke it softly, rubbing your thumb against his shoulder like you did that day.

"How can I believe you?"

Fear laced his words in a way you didn't expect was possible from a former Navy Seal.

"Believe me, believe my words. Keep a tracking device on me, stalk me, tattoo me as yours, I don't care. You can do what you want but don't keep me tied up like an animal Norman, how is that any way to treat someone you want as your wife?"

This seemed to shift something in him and he reached for his pocket, you stilled in fear wondering if you had gone too far, until you spied the shining metal of a key. He leaned over you, feeling around your wrist and hand until he could push the key into your cuffs, freeing your bruised limb, before he sat back defeatedly, gesturing to the door.

"Go on then, aren't you gonna run?"

You ignored his words and leaned up on your knees, reaching out for his shoulders to steady yourself. He raised his brows in shock but allowed you to continue your ministrations. Tentatively, you reached for his white beard, stroking it softly between your thumb and forefinger, eyes flicking down to his lips.

"I told you I'm not going to leave didn't I?"

You murmured before leaning towards him, capturing his lips against yours, feeling him tense against you. It was a chaste kiss and you held his face in your hands, stroking his cheek, feeling like this was the only place in the world you belonged. Finally you felt his hands around your waist, holding you strongly against his chest.

"You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it you stupid old man,"

you chastised before leaning in to kiss him again. This time his lips moved against yours, holding you tight like he might lose you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the feeling of his beard tickling your cheeks. You couldn't help but moan as you felt his tongue work its way into your mouth, heat pooling between your legs as you shifted against him in attempt to relieve the discomfort. He grunted, stilling your hips and pulling away speaking lowly, his husky voice causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin.

"don't do that, or I wont hold back."

Your eyes practically rolled into your skull as you whimpered, burying your head into his shoulder, trying as hard as you could to move your hips against his vice like grip as your pussy clenched against nothing. Hoping to sway him, you pressed soft kisses to the junction between his neck and shoulder, moving up towards his ear, sucking occasionally which earned you a growl from him and a slap to your thigh. This only served to turn you on more, the heat of the moment causing you to lose all sense of what was rational.

"I don't want to hurt you Y/N,"

he murmured, one hand finding your hair and rubbing circles into your scalp.

"I know you won't, besides, I want this."

He groaned, leaning his head back in frustration whilst you contented yourself with running your hands down his broad chest, fingering at the exposed skin of his lower stomach.

"Isn't this the real reason you had me tied up in your bed?"

You asked, the sultry tone surprising even yourself.

He growled in return, breaths growing heavier whilst you continued to kiss up and down his neck and chest. Suddenly, you felt yourself being pushed harshly into the mattress, Norman's weight settling above you and pinning your arms over your head.

"Don't start something you can't finish little girl."

You were too stunned to reply, only able to allow him to roam your body with his free hand, trailing along your exposed thigh in the tight summer dress you wore.

"Is this what you wanted hmm?"

He asked lowly as his fingers finally pressed against your core, feeling your throbbing heat, barely covered by soaking panties.

"Shit, you always get like this?"

He asked incredulously, leading you to mutter a small no as you watched his face contort into a predatory smile. He pulled you into a passionate kiss, running his hand up and down your folds, eventually casting aside your underwear to tease you further. You gasped has he circled your clit with his thick fingers.

"tell me to stop."

You replied with silence, which seemed to be enough to crack his tough resolve. He pulled down your dress to expose your breasts, cupping them with his rough palms as he kissed and nipped at your neck, his other hand continuing it's assault on your weeping pussy. It was all too much and you gasped and moaned wantonly, tears forming in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure.

"This is all for me isn't it?"

He growled, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"yes!"

You cried out as you felt his other finger prodding at your entrance,

"it's all for you, only you."

You trembled as you felt his finger slide in easily, pumping in and out slowly as he added a second. Your moans grew louder and you bucked your hips to keep up with his rhythm. Slowly he began to kiss down your body, sucking on your tits before eventually landing at your pussy, open and ready for him. Without warning he dived in, grabbing your thighs for purchase as he slurped pornographically at your sex. You covered your face in embarrassment at the sight before you, it had you almost coming instantly. His mouth and fingers worked you like an instrument, not seeming to mind as you trapped his head with your thighs and grabbed at his soft hair, arching into him with each pump of his fingers. He had managed to work four into you at this point and satisfied himself with sucking on your sensitive bud.

"Please, please please,"

you chanted, writhing beneath the man you had fantasised about for years.

"Please what baby?"

He questioned as if there wasn't one obvious answer.

"Please let me come,"

you breathed, scratching at his scalp, toes curling.

"You can come whenever you're ready sweetheart,"

he hummed against your pussy, pumping you faster whilst his lips continued their magical torture.

"Ughh-hh-ahh."

You choked out, shaking as your high hit you like a train, barely aware of your pussy squirting all over Norman's face with every blissful contraction of your body.

"Hmm that's it baby, let it all out,"

he murmured, fingering you through your orgasm. Your mind was blank as you fell back into the bed like a rag doll. You felt the bed dip as Norman laid down beside you, pulling you into his body, fingers tracing the skin on your arms. Eventually your brain began to be capable of forming thoughts aside from your orgasmic bliss, allowing you to realise Norman hadn't had his own release.

"Let me help you,"

you lazily reached behind you to feel his hard cock straining his trousers.

"Shh go to sleep,"

he grunted, kissing your shoulder.

"Are you sure?"

You questioned, knowing you were too spent to be able to do anything but lay there as he took his pleasure.

"Yes, you can make it up to me another time, just go to sleep for now,"

he replied firmly, cradling your body in his arms as you allowed sleep to take over your body knowing you were utterly fucked in more ways than one.

[rdbrainz]

Hi there! If you're still accepting Bleach requests, may I see your headcannons based on the Bleach Jet art of the Espadas and Quincies in delinquent school uniforms (specifically Grimmjow, Nnoitra, and Bazz-B)? That official art just gave me major brain worms, and I really like your art and headcannons >.< Also, do you happen to have a Ko-fi/patreon to send donations to?

ACTUALLY funny enough I've been thinking about this art a lot myself lmao so I do have some headcanons! as for my ko-fi or patreon.. like I said before transferring money out of them is impossible where I am right now but I made a boosty acc (I'll link it in my bio)

First I wanna add that I just can't see Stark as a high schooler x). He has the vibe of a teacher who somehow ended up with the worst classes in school despite his formidable reputation. Though maybe he was a delinquent himself in the past so he knows how to deal with these little shits. He also has a soft spot for them so as strict as this man can be he cuts them a lot of slack. Like for example I'm sure Nnoitra would smoke in this AU so I think the first day Stark started working with them they met on the rooftop on the lunch break while Gilga was smoking and instead of scolding him Stark just asked for a cig. Nnoitra almost shit himself. I'm also sure he would ask his class to look after his daughter Lilynette so she won't get into any trouble with that attitude of hers. She's probably in middle school or a couple of years younger than them so yeah... the lil sis of the group...

Despite the differences and constant bickering Nnoitra and Grimmjow are basically attached at the hip. I can see them being childhood frenemies actually. Ulquiorra and Szayel are also somewhere in their orbit of course but these two are the worst duo to stumble upon. Very notorious

Ulquiorra is obviously the class president given the armband. He tries his best to mediate the conflicts between his classmates or make them behave better but it's all in vain. Mostly. Some days he's just not in the mood to be responsible and reasonable when dealing with all the bullshit. When trying to bring delinquents to reason you have to be either very respected among them or more fierce than them and Ulquiorra certainly lacks the authority because of his character and swaglessness. He's very scary when mad however. Everybody knows this by now but they just keep trying their fate. Like I'm telling you once he unbuttons his gakuran it's so fucking over

Unlike Grimmjow Nnoitra is actually bothered with his grades enough to try and work for them and/or study (not all the time of course what do you think he's a loser or something?) It includes scaring people into doing his homework, snatching papers out of Ulquiorra's hands right before the class starts (he's used to it so he carries around two sets of hw) or if he REALLY needs to pass an exam he goes to Szayel, the class smartass. The latter is literally equivalent to dying and going through hell to him because he has to abandon all his pride. If you have a shit ton of money you always can try and ask Szayel to help you. Sure. A little bit of humiliation and you actually know the subject. However when it comes to Nnoitra the freak won't let him breathe because: 1) he doesn't need his money, Nnoitra has plenty and it's already stolen anyway so what's the fun? 2) asking a fellow delinquent you have a beef with for help has different means of payment 3) he just really wants to fuck with this guy's head since he thinks Nnoitra is a curious fella. Gilga is well aware of all of this and he's well aware that Szayel will make him polish his boots with his tongue before even considering helping him with acquiring the forbidden chemistry knowledge. So he has to really work for it whether it's a fistfight or running errands for Szayelaporro. It's a good thing Grantz stays true to his word

Grimmjow has a well-accessorized uniform thanks to Nnoitra but his casual clothing is hilariously uncool. I'm convinced this guy has zero taste both in clothing and prints/patterns because he couldn't care less about what other people think is considered fashionable when all he needs personally is functionality and comfort. He knows how to rock a good hairstyle though but if he wants to wear flip-flops outside then so be it

Nnoitra spends all the money he gets on new accessories and CDs (and maybe sometimes porno magazines) for which he constantly gets picked on. If it's someone not from his immediate friend circle then it's not even worth thinking about - left, right, goodnight. As if he's gonna let anyone get too fucking cheeky with him. He's infamous for being called slurs and then bashing the person's head in for this every week because he wears heels and had to endure children being mean to him because of his eye in kindergarten and primary school so it's no big deal really. But if it's Grimmjow then it's a fucking word battle to death he just can't let it slide. Jaegerjaquez really thinks Nnoitra is gonna get strangled by one of his necklaces one of those days but whatever. It's up to him. His music taste however... Now that's something they quarrel about all the time. "I mean I'm not saying anything! Sure you can buy new TOOL CDs all you want.. cough cough... fucking loser.. cough"

Bazz-B was hell-bent on making friends with Grimmjow because he genuinely thinks this guy is awesome. Look at his laid-back attitude and vicious ways! His blue hair, his style! Ohhh, to be like him!!! Jaegerjaquez on the other hand was not very impressed with how annoying Bazz could get with his neverending attempts of talking to him. Too energetic and loud for his liking. He already has Nnoitra and his big fat mouth he constantly runs all he wants so another talkative guy next to him would be too much for his everyday life. He would literally tell him to fuck off and threaten him with a beating of his life but unfortunately it got Bazz even more fired up. Damn weirdo. And a major pain in the ass. They did find a common ground in the end though and it's... A motorcycle that Bazz owns. Bazzard suggested they could take a ride together as a last resort and it was all it took to buy Grimm. Imagine the most excited person you've ever met and they still won't be as excited as Grimmjow was at that moment. Instant fucking boner! "Dibs on driving though" "Deal!" Grimmjow was surprised to reveal that Bazz-B is actually fun to be around and not as annoying as he initially thought he was. Nnoitra made a joke about them having a date the next day though

I think here Bazz-B suffers the same fate as Sakuragi Hanamichi in the beginning of Slam Dunk which is constantly trying to get girls on a date but being brutally rejected each time lmao 😭It's not like he is a bad-looking guy no it's actually the opposite but his personality and hot-headedness are too much to bear for girls he's going after

Askin is a great negotiator and he knows his way around with words but other than that he sucks. He's not a bad guy, just chronically fucking uncool and has to hide behind other people's backs because of mediocre fighting abilities. He also gets in all kinds of stupid situations because he just can't keep his thoughts to himself sometimes which is a bad asset to his cheesiness

Äs Nödt is also not very good at fighting but he's more useful than Askin lol. A smartass and a menace who is talented at collecting data and black-mail on people by eavesdropping and other means. He's the one who proposes the most out-of-pocket ways of taking revenge on other gangs or teaching someone a lesson so you better be careful with him

I hope I'll make more art of this later cuz I'm a bit burnt out rn

[infiniteeight8]

Ironstrange identity reveal? I was reading Spy x Family when I thought of this, so that's the background/setting I was thinking of initially, but it can definitely be a superhero thing too. Or whatever other idea pops into your head. I'm always excited to see what you come up with!

I read the top of the wikipedia entry for Spy x Family, but that setup is not working for me here, so instead we’re going with some classic “Iron Man is Tony Stark’s bodyguard” shenanigans. 😀

Uh, this got… more than a little out of hand. This has many themes in common with other drabbles, but now it’s 1360 words long. Enjoy?

Under the read more for length.

-

Tony stares stubbornly at Steve, who is rubbing his eyes with the kind of exhausted exasperation that has become his hallmark around Iron Man.

“Iron Man, you were unconscious,” Steve says. “After being electrocuted. You need a real medical check.”

“The armor has medical sensors,” Tony insists. “It says I’m fine. I can answer questions for a neurological exam. That’ll have to be good enough.”

Steve gets that stubborn look on his face. The one that no one wins against. Fuck. “You’re benched until you get a real medical check.”

“How about if I get checked out in my civilian identity?” Tony suggests.

“We have no way of verifying that you’ve done that,” Steve says. “And while I hate to say you’d lie, I can’t dismiss the possibility after this conversation. I understand your hesitation about revealing your identity, but your life is at stake.”

“It’s really not,” Tony mutters. He’s fine. But he can tell that Steve isn’t going to budge on this, and he wants to be off the bench sooner rather than later. “Fine. Call Strange, then.”

Steve’s eyebrows go up. “Doctor Strange? He’s not a practicing physician.”

“He’s kept his certifications, though.”

“And he hates you.”

Stephen hates Iron Man. He’s quite fond of Tony Stark, though. They’re… friends. He’s asked Tony on half a dozen dates, which Tony has been forced to turn down because he refuses to lie about something as important as Iron Man to someone he’s dating. It’s made for a lonely couple of years. At least if he has to reveal his identity to someone, he might get a date out of it. If Stephen forgives him for lying. If he can get past Tony Stark being an Avenger in general (apparently they make a lot of work for the sorcerers; something about the barriers between dimensions) and Iron Man in specific, who he’s always hated the most. 

“Then you’ll know he’s being honest when he clears me,” is all Tony says aloud.

Steve still looks baffled, but he makes the call.

Tony’s expecting Stephen to be angry when he arrives. He may keep his medical certifications up to date, but he doesn’t work as a doctor and he’s sure as hell not on call for the Avengers. But when he arrives he’s crisply professional, if frosty. He’s even wearing a lab coat over street clothes. He locks the exam room door behind him, which would be odd except that he follows it up with, “Armor off.” Tony hesitates. Stephen’s expression tightens. “Captain Rogers indicated you were willing to be examined,” he says sharply.

“This is kind of a big deal,” Tony snaps. “There is literally no one living that knows who I am.”

Stephen blinks. “Surely Tony knows.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah. About that.” He issues the command, and the helmet retracts. 

Stephen stares. And stares. And there it is. There’s the anger. “You utter fucking idiot!” He shouts. “What the hell are you doing risking your life in that goddamned tin can?! Don’t you know what a catastrophic loss it would be if you died out there?”

Okay, Stephen is yelling, but it seems like… good yelling? “I’m saving people,” Tony argues.

“You save plenty of people as Tony Stark!” Thank God the soundproofing in this place is spectacular; Stephen doesn’t lower his voice one bit. “So why do you insist on ruining your own life with this, this,” he waves his hand inarticulately at the armor still covering Tony to the neck, “bullshit.”

Okay, that’s enough. “Iron Man is not ruining my life! It’s the best thing I’ve ever done!”

Stephen's expression shifts from furious to incredulous. “The best thing?” he demands. “The best thing? What about the 100 million dollar donation to spinal cord research? The Foundation that helps people rebuild after things like alien invasions when their insurance won’t? What about the shield you invented that makes it possible for people with sensitive implants to get an MRI safely, or the modular smartphone that doesn’t need to be replaced every two years? What about the scholarships you’ve endowed?”

“Stephen—”

“Are those not big enough in scale?” Stephen demands. “How about the clean energy technology that looks like it might stop global warming in its tracks? Is that enough? Is one planet not enough? Do we need to talk about the international collaboration that you started to combine Earth’s resources with alien technology to turn us into an interstellar civilization before another interstellar civilization can dismiss us as barbarians—”

“I’m not the one who decided none of that counted!” Tony shouted over Stephen. It stops the tirade, at least. Tony blows out a hard breath. “The guy who donates the 100 million dollars isn’t the hero,” he goes on. “That’s the guy who makes the discovery. The Foundation isn’t celebrated for the people it helps, it’s critiqued for the ones it doesn’t. The MRI shield, the smartphone… people like them, but they’re advances that ‘were always coming’. Or maybe ‘were overdue’. That doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing. Of course they’re worth doing.” Tony retracts a gauntlet and rubs a hand over his face. God, he’s tired. “I just… I wanted to be the hero for once,” he admits. It sounds so fucking selfish. “Tony Stark could never do enough. It always had to be about the money for them, even when it really wasn’t about the money for me. But Iron Man… No one wonders what his ulterior motive is when he does something good. They just cheer.”

Stephen sighs and hitches himself up onto the medical bed next to Tony. “Do you know why I hated Iron Man so much?”

Tony grimaces. “I always figured he was just too… blunt instrument for you.”

Stephen snorts. “Hulk and Cap are far more blunt,” he says. “Iron Man at least has precision weapons to go with the punches. No. I hated Iron Man because when the suit failed somehow Tony got the blame, but when it worked, Iron Man got the credit. Iron Man made everything you just explained worse, not better.”

There’s not really a counter argument for that. It’s true. Except, “Nothing was going to make that better,” Tony says. “Nothing could. Not until I’m dead, anyway.” He half expects Stephen to go right back to haranguing him for risking his life. 

“Speaking of which, I’m meant to be making sure you’re not dying now,” Stephen says. He stands and moves to face Tony. “Come on. Get the rest of the armor off.”

Tony obliges, and they proceed with the rest of the exam in silence. 

Near the end, Tony looks over Stephen’s shoulder rather than meet his eyes and says, quietly, “I’m not going to stop.”

“My initial reaction aside,” Stephen answers, just as soft, “I never thought you would. I know as well as anyone how this life becomes a part of you.” When he finishes the exam, he steps back. “You’re fine.” 

Tony nods and puts the armor back on. It’s never been so quiet between them before. His chest aches.

When he’s got everything but the helmet back on, Stephen stops him. “Is this why you always said no when I asked you out?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Didn’t seem right to lie like that to my partner.”

“Right.” Stephen nods firmly. “So will you go out with me now?”

Tony perks up. “You still want to?”

Stephen gives him a look. “You have not had a personality transplant,” he says dryly. “So yes, I still want to.”

Do not push your luck, Tony tells himself. He says it anyway, “Thought the lying might be a bigger deal.”

“Everyone keeps secrets,” Stephen says. “But the secrets that a friend will accept are different from the secrets that a partner will accept. You’ve already demonstrated that you understand that.” Tony grins and Stephen shoots him a look. “We will, however, be having words about you assuming I’d react like anyone else in your life.”

Tony swallows a laugh. “Of course,” he says. “I should have known you’d be exceptional.” 

“And don’t forget it,” Stephen says, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

[pinkurbanfictionhaven]

1- FUCK ME AT FASHION WEEK

The sound of metal hangers scraping rapidly across dozens of clothing racks full of high-priced designer clothing filled up the large NYC penthouse.

The clothing was delivered a few hours prior and had yet to be stored inside Nicki's three-floor closet, so the racks sat in the center of her living room instead.

Nicki groaned annoyedly as she searched maniacally for the white ensemble and matching fur jacket that she requested for her new wardrobe assistant, Trina to pack into her wardrobe for New York City Fashion Week.

"I swear I can not believe this shit! I am scheduled to be at the Tom Ford show in less than a fucking hour and I'm still here struggling to put an outfit together because my assistant can't follow simple instructions and do her damn job!" She ranted, storming into her bedroom to put on her jewelry.

"You know you can just wear something else right? It is the girl's first week doing this job so I am sure that it was an honest rookie mistake, Cookie." Her friend Thembi defends the young assistant.

Nicki eyeballs her, watching her lay lazily across her California King Bed, fully dressed down for the gods in the latest couture while stuffing handfuls of Smart Popcorn into her mouth.

Thembi 👆🏾

Her new stylist, Maher Jridi handpicked the perfect designer outfits for her to slay fashion week, and she felt stressed that everything wasn't in order since she is a bit of a perfectionist.

"Why don't you help me put an outfit together since you know so fucking much!" Nicki rants, tossing her ankle-length weave to the side to clasp her diamond-encrusted necklace around her neck.

Thembi sits upright in Nicki's lavish bed, analyzing her best friend that she has known for years as she shuffled around the gigantic bedroom, complaining about everything under the sun.

Nicki stops near her light-up makeup vanity to spritz some sweet-smelling perfume onto her chest, wrists, and neck.

Staring down at the perfume bottle, she realized that she picked up his favorite perfume scent on her out of habit, it frustrated the hell out of her, causing her to suck her teeth and put the bottle down.

Nicki hated to admit it, but her subconscious mind was on him.

Nicki has been moody and bitchy since they touched down in New York a few days ago, Thembi and all of Nicki's entourage and beauty team couldn't help but notice the change in her.

"What about this red dress, Cookie?" Thembi climbs down from the bed and approaches the various racks of clothing, pulling the dress from a rack after eyeing it from across the room.

This is cute! Right, Cookie?" Thembi holds up a cute short studded dress to show Nicki. "Pair it with some sexy ass thigh highs and you're all set." She runs her hand over the fabric.

Nicki peeks her head out of the bathroom door and cringes at the sight of the dress.

"No! that's basic! Are you trying to turn me into one of these basic bitches?"

Nicki frowned her face in the mirror as she adjusted her glued mink lashes and primped.

"I have to look perfect and sexy, the paparazzi will be there and you know they live for dragging people for their attire. It's bad enough that my name is all up in the news for this Remy bullshit."

Her friend walks into the bathroom, standing beside Nicki as she brushes her long tresses, she stares into the mirrored reflection at her, watching closely with her tongue stuck inside of her cheek.

After a brief moment of thinking, she grins to herself when she comes to the revelation of what is going on with her temperamental friend.

"I just had an epiphany..." Thembi utters knowingly.

Nicki turns her head and looks at her. "I swear if you say I need to go to Tiffany's I'm straight backhanding you back to Queens!" She smiles adorably, lightening up a bit.

"No, crazy! I just figured out why you've been giving everybody a stink-ass attitude all week long and why you've been screening all of your cell calls, throwing tantrums, and spending just a little too much time in the shower with the removable shower head! You, my friend, need some dick!" Thembi exclaimed.

Nicki's neck quickly snapped in Thembi's direction and she gave her a hostile expression, side-eyeing her.

Nicki couldn't help but become a bit offended by her comments, she just threw major shade. Even though it was true tea, she didn't appreciate her friend being so blunt about it.

In reality, it had been a treacherous three weeks since Nicki got the release that she so desperately desired, she was on a sex strike after a heated argument with the guy that she regularly scheduled her freaky dick appointments with and she had way too much pride to crack first.

He and she had a hostile relationship, they argued and bickered whenever they were in the same room and vowed that they hated each other with a burning passion, but a year ago after a drunken night, one of their heated arguments led to them hate fucking on the private balcony of his hotel room and it's been a fuck fest ever since.

They still hate each other, but the sex between them is so fucking explosive and addicting that they can't control themselves.

So here they are, two enemies stuck between hating each other and fucking each other. The turmoil was real.

"Please, not everyone is overly dick obsessed like you ok? I am living my best life over here!" Nicki retorts, slamming her bedazzled brush down on the counter.

Thembi gives her a knowing look, twisting her lips to the side, putting her hand on her hip, and narrowing her eyes.

Nicki kisses her teeth and lets out a loud frustrated shriek, throwing her head backward in anguish and whining.

"Fine, bitch! Fine! Is it that obvious?! Fuck! I've been dickless for three whole weeks and I feel like ripping all of my hair out! You happy?" Nicki rants, throwing yet another tantrum.

Thembi just stares at her in amusement before they both burst into a fit of laughter.

"Bitch, I knew that something had to be up when you were aggressively humping that big unicorn floaty in Gucci's music video last weekend!" Thembi exclaims.

"You know I ain't got no man, sis! Stop playing these games!" Nicki whines.

"Well, what about this mystery guy that you've been fucking on the low and refuse to tell me or our other girls about?" Thembi questions.

"Nicki!" They suddenly hear, Maher calling from the front of the penthouse.

Nicki smiles cheekily in triumph since he just saved her from the awkward conversation.

"Hehe! Nice try, sis!" She says, and playfully sticks her tongue out at her friend before speed walking out of the bathroom.

Thankfully, Maher found an eye-catching last-minute outfit for her and quickly assisted her with putting it on.

It was already bedazzled so the added jewelry was no longer needed.

They all left the penthouse suite fifteen minutes later and arrived at the runway show fashionably late, just before the show began.

Nicki took her seat front row with her entourage of eight, crossing her legs and handing her Gucci purse off to her assistant.

The show began after a small speech from Tom Ford, she watched the slender male and female models as they strutted and sashayed up and down the catwalk in all of the latest designs while the cameras flashed.

Amid the chaos of the show, she felt eyes on her which caused her to scan around the crowded room.

When their eyes finally locked, her breathing became slightly uneven. The look that he gave her caused her legs to clench and her lips to tremble.

There he and his crew were, seated across from her on the other side of the stage.

Nicki wasn't expecting him to be in New York, let alone at fashion week since he wasn't listed as one of the show's performers and the fashion shows weren't usually his thing, he found them boring.

Damn it, he looked fucking edible, he was clean-cut and dressed down in a denim jean jacket and basic attire, but he still had a way of making the simplest of outfits look so sexy and his own.

Nicki could feel herself getting wet from the sight of him alone, the minute she saw the lecherous gleam in his eyes, her pussy started throbbing like rapid a heartbeat.

He blatantly disregarded the models on the runway and continued sensually glancing across the room at her, bluntly eyeing her entire body and biting his lip.

Thankfully, he had on dark designer sunglasses, so it wasn't noticeable to the random people surrounding them, but Nicki peeped it.

He ran his hand over his freshly groomed facial hair and subtly head-motioned for her to get up and meet him in the bathroom.

Nicki subtly shook her head no causing him to frown and glare at her. He never liked when she disobeyed him.

Nicki watched closely as his hand slid from his knee up to his thighs and he grabbed his bulge, letting her know exactly what would be waiting for her if she got up and went to the bathroom.

"Fuck, why the hell is he doing this right now. People could be watching him." She mumbles to herself and shifts in her seat uncomfortably, biting down on her lip.

Nicki decided to finally break the intense eye contact with him and focus on the show once again, she was only getting herself worked up by watching him and his teasing and she knew that eventually, someone in the crowd would catch on.

Every so often during the two-hour show, she would subtly glance over at him to see that his hungry eyes were still focused directly on her, it was very obvious that the outfit she had on was to blame for his sexual behavior.

When the fashion show finally ended, Nicki chatted with the designer and took photographs with celebs, models, and some of the people that she knew from the industry.

Her eyes scanned the entire room multiple times for Abel, but he seemed to have disappeared right after the end of the show. Nicki hoped he was headed for her penthouse.

In the meantime, Nicki decided to mingle with all of the other guests for a while to give him time to make it across town to her place and hopefully be laying in her bed hard and ready for her when she gets there.

It was hard to put on a fake smile and front when in reality she was anxious to get back to her place to get the life fucked out of her, but she did it.

"Nicki!" Tom called her from across the room before approaching her and taking both of her hands in his.

"Tommy! Thank you for inviting me tonight sweetie! I had such a wonderful time." She pecks both of his cheeks sweetly while giving him a big dimpled smile.

"Will you be coming to the after-party?" Tom asks as they begin to walk hand in hand towards the private exit of the venue.

"I don't think I'll be able to make it, I'm kind of tired and jet-lagged." She lies.

"Oh, nonsense! You simply must come, when you see the gift bags that I am giving away you'll be glad that you did. Come on! You can ride over in my limo with me!" Tom began to drag Nicki along by her arm, not taking no for an answer.

Nicki kept a very calm exterior, but on the inside, she was screaming and crying.

Tom didn't understand the urgency of this particular dick appointment, it was crucial!

The next hour was spent at the party, surrounded by boujee fucking partygoers and engaging in pointless conversation with people that she didn't give a damn about.

Nicki sipped slowly on her bubbling champagne as she maneuvered through the crowded party in search of someone in her entourage to drive her back home, she already knew that Abel would eventually become restless.

Nicki spent another twenty-five minutes searching around before she finally decided to call a car service to pick her up.

"Damn, no reception." She sets her glass down on a nearby table and wanders away to a secluded area of the party to get away from the loud, pulsing, blaring music.

Nicki stops near the entryway and she is so focused on her phone that she doesn't notice that the closet door behind her is opening.

A hand suddenly clasps over Nicki's mouth, muffling her scream, and she feels someone's arm grip her small waist, pulling her into the closet.

Nicki begins to shriek, tussle, and freak out until the dimly lit closet light flickers on and she comes face to face with Abel.

Her small balled-up fists began pounding against his chest in frustration and she screeched.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you asshole?! You almost scared me half to death!" She places her hand against her rapidly heaving chest, attempting to calm down her racing heart.

Abel quickly cups his hand over her mouth, pressing her back against the door and reaching down to lock it.

"Would you shut up before we get caught together in here!" Abel gripes, staring down into her brown eyes.

"Well, you can't be popping out of fucking closets like a serial killer!" She retorts, slapping his hands away.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He whispers. "You have been ducking me for weeks. I have been calling and texting you like crazy!"

"I told your nappy-headed ass to leave me alone, you were on punishment and you still are." She rolls her neck and turns to leave the closet, but he pushes her back.

"Fuck out of here... You've kept that pussy away from me for weeks and I'm done with your bullshit aight? I'm not leaving New York without sliding deep inside of you so might as well dead all that fucking attitude and open your fucking legs." He whispers assertively into her ear.

Nicki opens her mouth slightly to speak, but he cuts her off by wrapping his hand around her fragile neck and giving it a slight squeeze; which caused the flood between her legs to worsen.

"Shut up and listen." He demands. "Do you have any idea how badly I have been craving your spoiled ass? You have me catching flights for some pussy like I'm one of these regular niggas out here!" He argues with her which was one of his favorite things to do since it always led to mind-blowing sex.

Nicki gave him an adorable dimpled grin, feeling his grip tighten around her neck, she felt accomplished and powerful knowing her pussy was so good that it had him hopping on private jets just to get a sample of it.

Nicki shrugs playfully. "Sounds personal, but it's not my problem. You could have found some pussy back in Toronto."

"Don't pull all that cute shit with me, Nicki. I already know that you missed this dick being inside of you. I can look into your eyes and see how badly you want me right now." He says cockily, causing Nicki to roll her eyes.

I bet that little pussy is dripping for me like a fucking faucet..." He whispers, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Nicki furrowed her eyebrows, she hated his cocky ass with a burning passion.

"Nigga-"

"Just shut the fuck up, we don't have much time." He whispers huskily, cutting her off.

He pulls her forward by her neck and crashes his lips against hers.

They begin to kiss fervidly, tongue-kissing each other roughly and fighting for dominance. Abel regains full control when he takes her tongue into his mouth and sucks it.

Nicki attempts to gain control by reaching up to grab his hair, but Abel grabs a firm hold of her wrists and forcibly pins them up above her head, causing her to whine out in frustration.

"You ain't running shit today, Peaches..." Abel grunts against her succulently soft lips, calling her the name that he gave because he said that her pussy juices are delicious and sweet and of course that peach-shaped ass of hers.

"We can't do it in here, someone will hear us." Nicki pants against his lips.

"Let me just taste it then.." He grunts back, biting her bottom lip, pulling it before trailing rough kisses down her neck to her chest.

Nicki shutters and bites her lip gently when she feels his hands running down her curves.

They slide over her hips and he grips her ass, his lips connect with her left breast and he swirls his tongue over it.

"This closet is too small for all of that..." she whines, feeling her skin heat up from his rough touching and kisses.

"I'll be fast, mama. I just really need to feel you right now." He whispers.

Abel's hands begin to fumble with Nicki's dress as he desperately tries to find a way to get it off of her.

The cage metal design of it makes it difficult, causing Abel to groan in frustration.

"Take this shit off now before I rip it off of you..." He grits.

Nicki snickers at his frustration before finding a way to slip the dress off.

It drapes to the floor, leaving her in a bedazzled bra and leather bottoms.

Abel eagerly begins to tear her shorts from her body, almost ripping them as his long tongue swirls circles around her exposed cleavage.

He roughly kisses and bites down her body until he reaches her belly button, he swirls his tongue around it before licking lower until he is staring at her pussy that is teasingly visible through her see-through pink thong.

Nicki looks down at him, breathing deeply and eager to feel his tongue. He just stares at it fixedly which is causing her to drip even more.

Nicki whimpers softly and slaps the side of his head to get his attention.

"Eat it, Nigga!" She demands, attempting to pull his face between her legs.

He instantly bites down on her inner thigh, making her squeak and hit him again.

"Keep playing and I'll walk out of here and leave you dripping..." He warns.

Before Nicki can come up with a clever comeback, he forces her thighs further apart, sliding his tongue up her slit.

"You petty ass motherfucker." She hisses, feeling her body tingling for more.

He snickers sinisterly and begins to suck on her clit through the thin fabric of her thong while staring up into her eyes.

"Your panties are already soaked, you were thinking about me huh, ma?" He whispers, moving them over to the side so he can taste more of her.

"Grind that pussy against my tongue, ma." He urges, firmly gripping her thighs while his tongue flips and slurps.

He tortures her clit and slips his fingers into her wet entrance which catches her off guard and causes her to scream out just a little too loudly. He punishes her by forcing his fingers deeper.

"Shut up and take this shit, you can take it can't you, baby?" He teases.

The sound of him sucking drives her insane, she was so fucking turned on that she slipped her breasts out of her bra and started kneading and licking her breasts which drove Abel crazy.

Nicki curses repeatedly under her breath and throws her head back in total ecstasy when he starts to suck harder just like she likes it, making her clit harden in his mouth, as his fingers relentlessly probed in and out of her.

Heat rushes throughout her body and in between her thighs.

Nicki's pussy was succulent, Abel could eat it all day if she'd allow it, his favorite place was in between her legs and he knew that his tongue game was the best that she'd ever had.

Her thighs tremble and her toes begin to curl inside of her boots when he begins to devour her as if she is the only form of nourishment that he would ever possess.

Nicki was a moaning mess, inching closer and closer to her release as her hips grind desperately and her breath hitched.

When Nicki is mere seconds away from exploding all over his face, Abel suddenly stops and stands with his face and beard coated in her wetness.

"What the fuck!" Nicki gripes, heaving slightly as her stomach twists in knots from her neared release that he ruined.

Nicki made an impassioned plea for him to continue pleasing her, but Abel had other plans, his desperate need for release made him uncaring. He had to fuck her.

Abel wasn't even trying to hear her whining, his only focus was filling her up with his cum.

He fumbled around with his belt until his erect dick was freed and pulsing hard in his hand.

Nicki was about to curse him out but he shut her up when he wordlessly pushed her back against the door, thrusting deep inside of her with one harsh movement.

All Nicki could do was gasp and hold onto him tight, closing her eyes and whimpering at the fullness that she felt with him inside of her.

"That shut you right the fuck up huh, baby girl?" He teases, proceeding to thrust his hips and give her the deep long strokes that she had been craving for three weeks.

He gripped her thigh, lifting one so that he could dig deeper while his other hand wrapped around her neck dominantly.

"Look at me, baby..." He demanded, leaning forward to kiss her lips deeply.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open and he made intense eye contact with her, watching her mouth gape when he slid balls deep and her eyes water when he hit the right spot.

He loved watching her unravel before him, watching her body submit every time he slides inside of her and pushed her past her limits.

Nicki didn't have to utter a word, her expression said it all. Her eyes squinted and her moans filled his ears as she thrusts against him and cursed under her breath.

Abel was over all the slow shit after a while, he and Nicki never had the time to fuck slow, their sex was always rough and fast.

He released his firm grip on her neck and lifted her other thigh up, taking full control of her body.

Fear took over Nick's expression, she knew what was coming from the look in his eye, she tried to keep a tough expression although she knew her pussy was about to be torn apart.

"You better not drop me down on this floor, nigga." She sassed, trying to mask her fear and excitement.

Abel's brow remained furrowed, he didn't give a fuck about her smart-ass comments because he knew she would soon be rendered speechless.

He began to pound into her core roughly, giving her short and fast strokes that caused her pussy to throb in pleasured pain.

"Oh fuck!" She screamed, no longer caring if anyone heard her.

He kissed the side of her face, lifting her and making her bounce on his dick. "Take this shit, take this dick baby." He grunted.

"Fuck, baby! That hurts so fucking good!" She moans and digs her nails into the back of his neck, gripping him tightly.

He became even more aggressive and began fucking her like he hated her, showing no mercy on her sore pussy.

Abel's pace increased and sweat beads formed on his forehead, he shut his eyes tightly and moaned when she began to tighten up on him. He made her bounce harder although he could feel her attempting to push him out.

"Fuck, wait, Abel..." she whimpers, trembling a bit in his arms.

"Nah, I'm not stopping until you cum on this dick so you better take this shit, ma." He grunts against her neck.

"I can't take it!" She whimpered. "Fuck, please slow down, Daddy!" Abel smiled and shook his head no.

"The next time that you decide to be petty and keep this pussy away from me for three weeks, I'm going to destroy your fucking walls... do you hear me?" He breathes.

Nicki started to cry softly against his shoulder, it felt so good that she couldn't hold back the tears and she knew he would never let her hear the end of it when it was said and done.

"Stop holding it, you are not about to make me cum first so just cum for me," Abel whispers into her ear which made her whine in frustration.

It was a competition between the two, they kept a record of who made who cum first and Nicki had yet to succeed in making Abel cum before her.

Not being able to take any more punishment, Nicki starts to release all over Abel's dick while screaming into the nape of his neck.

"Good girl." He praises her, slowing down his strokes to help her through her orgasm.

The slow strokes make her cum again which causes him to chuckle, she is so mad and embarrassed that all she can do is nuzzle against his shoulder like a big baby and moan.

Her body trembled once again when he finally filled her up with his warm cum, moaning and grunting in her ear as he releases.

They both remained there silent and panting for just a few minutes to gather themselves.

Nicki's pussy felt numb when he finally put her down on the floor and pulled out.

They wordlessly redressed and Nicki quickly exited out of the closet once the coast was clear.

Glancing over her shoulder, she notices Abel leaning against the wall, texting.

He glances up at her from under his lashes and just smirks.

"When I get to your crib tonight you better be naked and waiting for me, I'm not done with you." He says.

Nicki smiles slightly, displaying one of her dimples before rolling her eyes.

"I'll think about it." She yanks down her dress before walking away with a satisfied smile on her face.

[mayhemchicken-artblog]

I'm curious, in which decade of the 18th century does the part of the story in Varney the Vampire with the Bannerworth Family take place? do you have a estimation?

oh, what a fantastic question. the short answer: time in varney the vampire is so convoluted that it is impossible to give an estimation, so i said "fuck it" and put them, arbitrarily, in the 1740s.

but hey, let's try to estimate it anyway!

first off, wikipedia says the story is "ostensibly set in the early 18th century." i have no idea where they're getting this claim. this story is not "ostensibly" set anywhere. it has 0 ostensibility. it doesn't ostense anything. the details i am about to dig up in order to sleuth together the timeframe are the type of nitpicky specifics only likely to be picked up by a Category 5 Autism Moment, or possibly someone putting together their phd thesis. without further ado!

our first clue as to the timeframe of varney the vampire comes in the introduction, with the following line:

Nothing has been omitted in the life of the unhappy Varney, which could tend to throw a light upon his most extraordinary career, and the fact of his death just as it is here related, made a great noise at the time through Europe and is to be found in the public prints for the year 1713.

this is, as we'll see, complete bullshit.

now let's have a look at the illustrations! they are also complete bullshit. judging from the clothing the characters are wearing, they could be anywhere from the mid-17th century...

...to the early 18th century...

...to the late 18th century (pictured: admiral bell. those turned-back lapels weren't added to the british naval uniform until 1767)...

...to the 1840s...

...to...the 1940s??? (i'm not the only one who thinks this looks like a trench coat and a fedora, right?)

so, clearly those aren't an indicator of anything. surely there must be clues in the story itself though, right?

haha. well. about that.

our first clue comes early in the story, when the bannerworths are investigating their family crypt, on the hunch that the vampire (not yet identified as varney) is one of their ancestors. specifically, they suspect a guy named either runnagate or marmaduke (his name changes halfway through) who died 100 years ago. so find out when he died, add 100 years, and we have the time of the story, easy!

"What says it?" "Ye mortale remains of Marmaduke Bannerworth, Yeoman. God reste his soule. A.D. 1540." "It is the plate belonging to his coffin," said Henry,

okay, so it sounds like the story takes place around 1640! good work team, let's--

By the combined light of the candles they saw the words,— "Marmaduke Bannerworth, Yeoman, 1640." "Yes, there can be no mistake here," said Henry. "This is the coffin, and it shall be opened."

...ah.

so, with no way to know which it is, let's try a different approach. perhaps there are clues within the story that will let us place it in a historical context, such as references to historical figures.

As the chaise drove up to the door of the inn, this man made an observation to the other to the following effect,— "A-hoy!" "Well, you lubber, what now?" cried the other. "They call this the Nelson's Arms; and you know, shiver me, that for the best half of his life he had but one."

admiral nelson died in 1805, so...the story is now set in the regency period or later. this timeframe is supported by the prevalence of pistol duels within the story, which according to wikipedia did not catch on until the late 18th century, swords being the preferred dueling weapon before then. additionally, admiral bell is described as wearing "the undress naval uniform of an officer of high rank some fifty or sixty years ago", which for rymer would have meant the 1780s-90s. so, mounting evidence that the story is set in the late 18th or early 19th century.

one last thing we can try: let's see if the later parts of the story offer any hints as to the timeframe of the earlier parts. here's a quote from chapter 179, a point after which the rest of the story happens all in the same period of time, barring flashbacks:

"One stormy, inclement evening in November, a travelling carriage, draggled with mud, and dripping with moisture, was driven up to the door of the London Hotel, which was an establishment not of the very first fashion, but of great respectability, situated then in Burlington-street, close to Old Bond-street, then the parade of fashion, and, as some thought, elegance; although we of the present day would look with risibility upon the costumes that were the vogue, although the period were but fifty years ago; but fifty years effect strange mutations and revolutions in dress, manners, and even in modes of thought."

(yes, that was one sentence. someday rymer will answer for his crimes against the comma)

anyway. so this part of the story, which encompasses the Peak Scooby-Doo Segment, the vampire council, and the entire episode with the croftons, is supposedly set long after all the bannerworths have died:

"Did you not once know some people named Bannerworth." "I did. You came to see me, I think, at an inn. They are all dead."

"Well, gentlemen," added the doctor, "I will tell you what I suggest, and that is contained in a letter, written a long while ago by a distant relation of mine, likewise a surgeon [Chillingworth]. Mind, I do not of course pledge myself at the present time, for the truth and accuracy of a man who was dead long before I was born; he might too have been a very superstitious man."

(speakers are an unnamed vampire and varney in the first quote, and the croftons' family doctor, dr. north, in the second)

fifty years ago, as i said earlier, would be the 1790s from rymer's perspective. charles holland is 21, and i assume the bannerworth siblings are all close to his age, so i would expect anywhere from 30-60 years to have passed for them all to have died. it seems fair to me to assume both chillingworth and dr. north are in their 30s at least, with 40s seeming a bit more likely. "long before I was born" is very vague but we'll say that's at least 10 years, probably more. so the minimum length of time between the two sections of the story is dr. north's lifespan + however long chillingworth lived after the bannerworth section + at least 10 years in between. so we're looking at probably 60 years at a minimum. all that would set the story in the 1730s at the latest, and probably earlier.

unless you believe the introduction to the story, which asserts that varney hurling himself into the volcano (the last thing that happens in the book) happened in 1713, which would, according to all the math i just did, set the bannerworth portion in the 1650s. this is INCREDIBLY problematic for the story's timeline, as that was the Oliver Cromwell period. according to the backstory varney gives to mr. bevan, he didn't even BECOME a vampire until two years after cromwell was dead (even though he also tells him he was terrorizing london during the reign of henry iv which was in the early 15th century...never mind).

you can see why i just gave up and decided to set the bannerworths part in the 1740s and the croftons part in the 1840s and ignore anything rymer has to say about the timeline that contradicts this. i didn't even get into the Time Knot.

[zablife]

Hi!

I'm still being held on the Jake Seresin ship 😅

But I don't have the time to write rn so I just must wanna share a thought of Jake falling for an absolutely grumpy reader 🥰 (and he takes it a challenge to make her smile)

That's it. Thoughts? 🙃

Hi darl, I'm on that ship with you!! I have not forgotten about your Jake one shot request btw. Unfortunately, I have work obligations that will take up my writing time the next couple of days so I can't say for sure when I'll be able to post it. For now have some headcanons about Jake as a stupidly cheerful early bird with a grumpy reader who hates getting up in the morning.

Morning Sunshine

☀️ Jake is one of those annoying people who can rise without the help of an alarm clock. He claims if he thinks about it before bedtime, he can wake at a specified time.

☀️ "That's bullshit, Jake," you tell him. "No one can do that," you reason as you set your alarm, already pissed off about the ungodly hour you'll have to rise tomorrow. "Except me, sweetheart," he grins at you, pulling you into his bare chest and squeezing you tightly.

☀️ "It's called a sleep schedule. The Navy's had you on one for years," you mumble against him. "Wanna help me break regulation and stay up past lights out?" he said with a smirk, his fingers guiding your chin up toward his soft lips for a kiss. You had to hand it to him that he often put you to bed in a good mood.

☀️ In the morning, Jake usually went for a run and then had a shower while you got extra rest. He was so quiet you rarely woke until his body hovered over you, the scent of his cologne drifting to you in a dream.

☀️ He knew how much you hated loud noises when you first awoke so he kept his voice soft and soothing as he peppered your face and neck with kisses saying, "Morning sunshine."

☀️ Sometimes even this gentle approach didn't work. "Five more minutes," you whined, pushing him away with your pillow and attempting to dive beneath the covers. "Uh-uh, you sleep in and you don't eat. You don't eat-" You cut him off knowing the rest. "I get sick. I know!," you snapped.

☀️ Jake lifted the pillow away from your eyes and said, "I was gonna say you get cranky, but you're already there, darlin'," he noted with a hearty laugh.

☀️Pulling you by your forearms, he sat you up and tucked your hair behind your ears. "There's my gorgeous girl. Bright eyed and bushy tailed!" he joked. "No, I'm not. I need a shower," you grumbled as you sniffed at your pajama top.

☀️ "Okay, you go shower and I'll make you breakfast. How does that sound?" he asked as you stood from the bed slowly. You nodded as you let out a long yawn and stretched leisurely. "Get a move on, you're burnin' daylight," he said playfully slapping your ass and you turned to flip him off.

☀️ The warm water and fresh clothes improved your mood greatly, but you began to feel guilty about your grumpiness. In fact you often worried that Jake would have a change of heart one day and tell you he'd had enough.

☀️ As you shuffled into the kitchen you found a plate of pancakes waiting for you and a steaming cup of coffee. You wrapped your arms around Jake with a huge grin on your face. "Is this all for me?" you asked incredulously.

☀️ He nodded and gave you a peck on the lips which you deepened by pulling him toward you by the back of the neck. When you finally pulled away he asked, "What was that for?" with a goofy grin on his face.

☀️ "For being so good to me, even when I don't deserve it," you said, taking a seat at the table. Jake beamed with pride. "Course you deserve it, baby," he said placing a kiss to the top of your head.

☀️ As he draped a napkin in his lap, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "But don't worry, you're gonna pay me back later," he said with a wink. You looked up at him quizzically and he lifted his fork to point at a precarious tower of dirty dishes.

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

Taglist:

@floraroselaughter

@rikki-b-lake

@alanadetigy

@writeroutoftime

@peakyrogers

@justalonelyslytherin

@lovemissyhoneybee

@wandawiccan60

@l1-l4

@luckyladycreator2

@kmhappybunny240

@shanimallina87

@hey-its-kayla-claire

@can-this-be-a-fanfic

@amysteryspot

@dreamlandcreations 

@blue-aconite

@littlebadariell

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@cycbaby

@sweetlittlegingy

[fandoomrants]

Tua, s4, ep 5 thoughts!

Spoilers!

-Five and Lila travelling for years?! Omg!

-Also them fighting, laughing, and bonding!

-Pls no one make this weird and sexual! That was finally them bonding and showing trust, taking care of each other. Him, helping put the glass out of her leg, and her shaving him and leaning on him. That's just trust!

-Klaus is gonna spend some time in that coffin, wouldn't he?

-Can he potentially die due to lack of oxygen and food, and be reborn over and over again for eternity?!

-I knew he's gonna set sth on fire....

-That was indeed uncalled for!

-I feel that the same thing with Klaus trusting Reginald and then being stabbed in the back by him is repeating again...

-Ok, Ben's mind is really hijacked...

-Yep. Viktor's name is indeed spelled with a K. I knew that, not sure why I started spelling it with a C.

-Can't believe for once Luther is reasonable, and Diego's not. Well, they both usually are but I've always thought Luther is more oblivious.

-Wherever Five and Lila are, the time must be passing differently.

-OMG, dog ghost!! Cute!!!

-Claire was picking up Klaus 🥹

-Allison can just try to rumour the guy.....

-Caire to the rescue!

-Can't believe Allison did that in front of her daughter....

-Aw, Diego learned another language to be able to communicate with Lila's family?!? Cute!

-The place Five and Lila are at is kinda nice.

-..... Thoo, I did say their bond was nice and shouldn't be seen as something romantic in the beginning but ngl, they give me a bit odd vibes....

-Nooooo! 🫣🫣 This shouldn't have happened!

-BOTH OF YOU STOP BEING WEIRD!!!! WTFFF?!

-Ughhh, finee! I get it, I can't read people's relationships right! Every time I decide "oh, what a cute platonic bond", and ha! Nope! Not so platonic!

-I'll be forever mad about that!

-Sidenote (I wanna forget the prev scene!) but where is Gene kinda familiar from? 🤔🤔 Been trying to decide that for 5 episodes now.

-Luther actually trying to bullshit his way out of a situation, lol.

-...And gets in trouble for being nosy.

-Ok, the others got in trouble.

-Not the pants ����😂

-Yay, fighting to music!

-Why are clothes being ripped? 💀💀

-And a random cat!

-"The moneymaker" 💀💀💀💀

-I was gonna say how are they gonna explain this to Five but Five has things to explain on his own...

-No, really, noo, I don't want this thing with Lila and Five 😭😭 Why is it happening?! It's literally proving Diego was right. Is like, something wrong with them? Like, are their brains messed? I suppose, 6 years is a long time...

-Umm.... Isn't Five a bit afraid of the train...

-Why is he hiding it?! Ughhh....

-Ok, kinda actually really happy Klaus decided to fight his way out.

-Tho, I expected that Allison and Claire would get there then.

-Aw, cute reunion!

-Why is Lila suddenly not worried about her kids, btw?

-But hey, good thing Five gave her the notebook!

-Ok, I kinda get why he's like that but like, he's been through apocalypse and all, he needs a break. But Lila is right, this isn't real.

-Ok, she remembered her children...

-Nah, Viktor, let them shoot him.

-See, bad idea. You got shoot, and he's bitching about his suit!

-I'm not buying the old man's nice words.

-Ouch! That was unexpected!

-But I suppose I guessed right for Reginald's wife?

-Omg, that skin thing is creepy!

-Is she an alien too?

-I think Jean isn't buying it...

[stupidstupidratcreatures]

preface that these are problems that it's only really possible for one to have in a particular and privileged set of circumstances

anyway i've been thinking about this a lot lately and. i've been out, sort of, as trans for a little bit over six years now, and i deeply, deeply regret not transitioning basically at all during that time. i said i had a name and i sporadically told people i had pronouns and that was the extent of it. no clothes shopping no voices no nothing.

currently this is manifesting as me being really sad about not going out of my way to get puberty blockers while those would still do anything. i hate my clothing, i hate my name, i hate the way people look at me on the street, but i think i could be more okay with all of that if i didn't also hate my voice. because the other three i can, like, reasonably avoid.

if i go looking for them i can find reasons to blame my parents instead of myself, and i'm probably right to, but what's really the point? of course they didn't do anything helpful, because why on earth would they? they love sitting on their asses and when i was a teenager they were even more explicit about not respecting me as a person.

and what about after that? sure, the excuse i made to myself was that i was being inactive because it would be less of a hassle to just wait until i was 18 so there was less bullshit, but even if that was true in a way that actually mattered it was still years in between becoming an adult and actually doing anything. not even behavioral or social stuff like voice training (again. caustic to even think about how my voice sounds) or clothing, just the stupid easy shit. go to pharmacy, sit on toilet, feel pain. it took two years for me to decide to actually get what i wanted.

i should be really clear: i've always known i've wanted this. even beyond the vague feeling of wanting out that i had for my entire life, i knew i wanted specifically these things for years and years. years that i just didn't do anything about. not for any reason. just a vague feeling that i wasn't allowed to get what i wanted, because they were things that i wanted

and i know i'm not actually old, and my life is closer to it starting than it ending. (i mean. god willing.) but it still hurts, and my voice still sounds like this, and this is the oldest i've ever been. also, shit is hitting the fan faster than ever, and i wish i was three years into transition isntead of one, because i wish i had had more time living as a human being before it goes to hell even more than it already has. again, particular and privileged set of circumstances.

none of this would sting so much if i wasn't also a dropout-via-quarantine and completely adrift and someone who has proven herself unable to keep a job. i'm starting college in the fall and it could have been my senior year. to quote my sister, we're going to be learning calculus at the same time. i don't know how positive that is for her, but it's terrifying and depressing to me. like, one or the other of "scatterbrained loser" and "closet case" would be... well, i guess i don't know if i would think it was fine. i probably wouldn't. but as it stands one makes it harder to deal with the other than it otherwise might be.

i don't know. not to talk about a website and a movie on a serious post, but everyone getting all misty-eyed about "there is still time" and the ending of i saw the tv glow is acid to me because of the above. of course there isn't "time". there's never been "time". there isn't "time" to get to a gas station when your tank runs out on the highway, but there isn't "time" to just keep driving either. you pull over on the side of the road because you don't want to be hit by a car. and then you call a number and pray.

i think i thought this would be easier for whatever reason. i have no excuse for this, i've known and read more than is practical or useful about gigantic interlocking impersonal systems of oppression and exploitation for about ten years now, but i just thought they would be nicer to me.

[zombiepuke]

wlw cecilia pederson hc's

I haven't seen ANY Cecilia content and you know what. that is just homophobic. idc I love her so much and I can't stop thinking about her so here have some thoughts. leave it to me to love the character everyone despises

wlw gay stuff ahead // I try to keep her in-character but yknow I'm not perfect so - pls feel free to reblog/comment it truly means the world to me xoxo love you all!

--------

—Being with Cecilia is. Something. To say the least. She’s difficult to keep up with, even harder to be with. She’s mean, cold-hearted, and doesn’t really open up to you, ever. She doesn’t necessarily go out of her way to physically harm anyone, but she also doesn’t have much of an issue of morality when she needs to use violence. Whenever you find out about her scams, you’re undeniably angry, but she has you wrapped around her little finger so tightly, you don’t dare to even think of turning her in, or even worse - leaving her. So you take all of her bullshit in stride and try your hardest to stay on her good side. 

—She’s manipulative as fuck. Obviously. But she has an extreme soft spot for you and you only. Any other person in on her scams are expendable, and she chooses to not give a fuck about them, but time and time again, she chooses to care about you. You’re not entirely sure how that makes you feel about yourself, but she’s so good to you, and she fucks you so sweetly, you find yourself also not giving a fuck about your situation, either - so long as she keeps fucking you and treating you the way she does.

—You lowkey hate yourself for how easily she has a hold on your life. She can tell you to do anything and you’re scrambling to get it done like a dumb little puppy, just for her. Your entire identity, your entire sense of self was gone in her presence. You would burn the world to make her happy, to keep her attention on you (you secretly wished she would feel the same about you, but you know you’re just as expendable as the rest).

—(You’re actually not expendable, to her. You’re the one most important thing to Cecilia in her life, but she would absolutely never, in a million years, make that fact known. She, too, would destroy the world for you.)

—She expects a lot from you. She sees you as her equal, her only real friend - and she expects you to act like it. You’re intelligent, level-headed - just like her, and she knows it (regardless of your intelligence, Cecilia is your main weakness - she makes you stupid for her). She absolutely will make you feel like garbage sometimes, if you fuck up or do something not up to her (high) standards, she’s livid. She’s not above slapping, hair grabbing, cussing at you - and you take it all, you’re in too deep with her to argue, and because you know you wouldn’t win against her, anyways. Plus, you figure you have it pretty decent, being on Cecilia’s good side - she definitely love bombs you and is overly sweet on you as a manipulative tactic (and, she genuinely likes you. Not that you know that.)

—She is possessive as HELL. She will make it well known you are hers and hers only. 

—Cecilia spoils the fuck out of you. If she likes you, you would pretty much be set for life. I hate to say sugar mama buttttt, if there was anything you wanted or liked, you would get it (and you never question how she gets her hands on some things). She has money, and she likes to spend it, especially on you. She spoils you with extravagant gifts, jewelry, clothes, perfume (HC Cecilia has tons of high-end perfumes cause why not), and even dates - she loves to dote on you and show you off, show the world what she has (you’re her most valuable asset). Cecilia is surprisingly romantic, very elegant and pretentious, very hedonistic - her pleasure is of utmost importance, and your pleasure is her pleasure as well, so you enjoying yourself is something she takes very seriously. Yes, she’s a very cold person and she is not above bloody violence, but she is also very womanly, therefore, treats you very much so like a lady - so different than how she treats her victims or how she acts when she’s angry. She takes you to the fanciest restaurants, always buys the most expensive bottles of wine for you to share (HC she’s definitely a Cabernet girly!). She won’t stand for you to go wanting for anything.

—And she absolutely spoils you with orgasms, too. Cecilia likes to make you come. A lot. Too much, sometimes - your time in bed with her always ends with you hardly able to walk because your legs are like gelatin. Knowing she can make you scream, can make you come that hard that many times, it’s her favorite fucking thing in the world and she can never get enough. She’s really fucking talented at learning your body and what you like, what makes you tick - she maps you out, calculated, like she is with everything in her life. She knows exactly how to touch you to get you shaking, exactly how you like your cunt to be eaten, exactly how to slide her fingers just right to get you squirming - and she’ll keep doing it, over and over, until you can’t keep up with how many orgasms you’ve had. 

—You absolutely have to ask (beg) Cecilia’s permission to come.

—The PRAISINGGGGGG AND DEGRADINGGGGGG with this woman is INSANE. She talks a LOT while she’s fucking you and man, she says some dirty shit. She definitely talks you through it constantly, sweet nothings in your ears while she’s sitting behind you, her chest pressed to your back and one of her hands in-between your legs, the other clasped across your chest, her lips planting kisses on your up-turned neck. She’s really good at balancing being incredibly mean to you and incredibly sweet, touching you gently but whispering some of the iciest words to you. Like sometimes she leaves you in tears she’s so mean to you. Look at you, filthy slut, gonna come on my fingers? Let’s see how many times that worthless cunt can come for me tonight, hm? You would be nothing without me, sweetheart, you need me to take care of you, just like that whorish cunt needs me to take care of her, too. Dumb bitch, making a mess all over me like the dirty harlot you are. Look at you, about to come already - I don’t think so, baby girl. You think you deserve to come? You think you deserve me? Think you deserve me fucking you? No one else will ever fuck you, except for me. No one else could ever fuck you like I do, baby. Say something smart to me again, whore, and I’ll never touch your pretty little pussy ever again. That’s all you want, right? Is for me to keep playing with that spoiled little cunt? Aw, the little slut is crying. What a rotten, stupid baby you are, pretty girl.

—In addition to how cruelly she speaks to you, sometimes she just straight up refuses to let you come for long periods of time. I’m talking hours, days, even, of no relief for you at all. She loves to see you defenseless, powerless, begging her to give you something. It’s either you don’t come at all, or she’s making you come so many times you can hardly see. Yknow a good mix.

—But her praises would be just as intense, when she was in the mood to treat you a little nicer. Being with her is a whirlwind, she 180’s like crazy. The pet names are endless, constantly calling you baby, baby girl, love, sweetheart, good girl, princess, etc. Sometimes it’s strange hearing such sweet names pour from her lips as she’s also saying the most cruel, vile things to you, but all you know is that you cling to everything she says, drink up every word she utters to you. Oh, my sweet girl. Look how precious you are, so desperate. Tell me how it feels, hm, darling? Is that good? You’re so pretty, grinding on my leg like that, honey. Just relax, baby girl, and let me take care of you, I know you need that, need someone to take care of you, I know you need me. Oh, tsk tsk tsk, I know it feels good, baby, let it all out, sweet thing, let me hear you. You sound so lovely moaning my name like that. You’re such a good girl for me, angel, you’re so good. God, you’re so beautiful, so perfect, so flawless, your cunt is so pretty, she’s all mine. You’re all mine, princess. Can you come for me again, baby girl? Come on, I know you can do it, come for me, come for me, elskling, just like that. Oh, I’m so proud of you, godjenta. 

—She speaks half english, half Norwegian when she’s fucking you - usually when she’s praising you - a lot of the pet names she uses are in her native tongue. Hearing her speak to you in Norwegian sends you into another dimension. 

—Cecilia typically prefers to keep her clothes on while you’re intimate. It’s just how she is, very hidden and secretive, not that she minds you knowing anything about her. It’s just what she’s comfortable with most of the time. You like it, though, there’s a sense of power she has while you’re completely naked and she’s fully clothed. You also love the way the expensive fabrics she wears feel against your skin when she’s on top of you, or holding you to her, or draped across your back.

—Thigh riding. With her clothes on. Her watching you smugly, trying so hard to get yourself off right there on her leg. Dirty worthless slut, trying so hard to come. Look at you. It’s a privilege to even use my leg. Just think about that.

—Speaking of that, it takes an incredibly long time for Cecilia to allow you to see her naked, or to even touch her. She is a control freak through and through, and she doesn’t like relinquishing that - but eventually, she trusts you enough, and lets you touch her, see her body beneath her clothes. She’s beautiful everywhere, not just in the face, and you’re really excited to be able to touch her, too, bring her as much pleasure as she brings you. It’s different, complicated for Cecilia to let you in in that way, but once she gives herself over to you for a change, she learns to adore it. You worship her the first time she lets you touch her, pressing your mouth to every piece of her body, amazed, in awe of just how gorgeous she was, how reactive she was to your touch. The first time you ever make her come, you feel like it was akin to seeing some sort of ancient god - seeing her, usually so ice cold and stoic and uncaring, arching her back and pulling at your hair and her pretty face flushed and scrunched up in ecstasy, her blonde hair spread across the pillow like an undeserving halo, the noises of desperation and your name coming from her lips in a whimper, the taste of her cunt behind your own lips. The sight could have made you come right then and there with her. She grabbed your chin and kissed you, hard, panting into your mouth, body visibly shaking. God, darling, you’re so fucking good at that—

And then, you’re just as addicted to pleasing her as she is to you.

—She babbles to you in both languages as she comes. Absolutely.

—Her favorite thing to do to you is go down on you. Something about it is just it for her. She likes having direct power over you, and over time she’s realized that her mouth can break you down like nothing else, having you making noises you’d never thought you’d make, sending you to places in the stars. Cecilia is one thing and that is determined, and that determination is very clear when she’s eating you out - she won’t stop for anything. She doesn’t care if you have already come three times - she’s staying right between your legs until she’s had her fill of you, not that you’re complaining. She’s honestly pretty sweet with it (as she is with lots of things involving you - the contrast between her career choices and how she treats other people and how she treats you, it gives you whiplash sometimes); she’s slow and steady, pressing tantalizing kisses all down your frontside, in the creases of where your pelvis meets your legs, up your center - landing right on top of your clit, tongue slowly dipping down into your cunt, the pace making you shove your face in your hands and wail your desperation into your palms. She murmurs soft praises and maybe some harsher degradation in between your thighs, in tune with the even softer movements of her mouth against you, looking up at you through blonde lashes all the while, gauging your reactions to everything she does. She compliments and praises everything about you. Oh, my pretty girl, such a precious little pussy, hm? I know you need it, sweetheart, be patient. I’ll give you everything you need. Her hands would be busy, too, coming up to rest on your upper thighs, your hips, your lower stomach, nails scraping gentle patterns to your skin. She’s a tease with everything - she wants you desperate and dripping for her and she likes to hold your neediness for her over your head. But once she stops barely touching your skin and running her tongue across your lips, she’s latching onto your cunt like it’s air, not letting up til you’re crying and trying to thrash away from the intensity. And all positions are game for her - she especially likes to eat your pussy from the back while you’re on all fours, elbows to the ground and ass hiked up as far as you can arch, one of her hands wrapped around your thigh and the other pressing a thumb to your clit while her tongue is pressed into your cunt. Or she likes you to sit on her face cause she can grab onto your thighs and hold you down to her. She also likes to eat you out while you’re standing, pressed against the floor-to-ceiling glass panels in her home, her mouth nestled between your legs and her arms wrapped around your thigh as your knees shook from her circling your clit with her tongue.

—Her handssssss her hands are so pretty. Cecilia is super talented with her fingers and really enjoys holding you to her chest while she plays with your pussy, dipping her fingers down into your wetness to rub your clit with, yknow yknow the good shit. Or she knows exactly how to hit every damn spot inside of you to have you howling her name into the blankets.

—Scissoring? Hell yes. She’s all for it, and she doesn’t care if she’s on top or bottom. Sometimes she likes when you take control, swiveling your hips against hers, your arms wrapped around one of her legs to fit your bodies together, being able to see her lovely face react, eyes closing, brows furrowing, as you tilt down to get the friction just right. It felt like you were fucking her instead of the other way around (even though her iron grip on your hips told you she was absolutely still in control). Or, when she’s on top, and her hips thrust so perfectly in tune with your own, your sex gliding so wonderfully against hers, her arms reaching down to rest her hands on your chest for leverage - taking one and slipping it to lay against your lower stomach to press her thumb to your clit, just to give you that extra bolt to send you over the edge. Her hair flows and swirls over her shoulders, her head thrown back with her eyes closed, focusing on the feeling, the way her muscles and bones move with her, the heat of her body radiating onto you, it’s addicting. She’d lean forward and press her forehead to yours, eyes meeting your own, forcing you to look at her while she thrusts and fucks you into oblivion. It’s an almost sweet gesture, one of her hands coming up to hold your cheek and urge you to come for her.

—She’ll make you watch her fuck you in the mirror. Seeing her hand come up to wrap around your throat from behind while she’s railing you, her breath on your neck as she’s whispering dirty things into your ear, her eyes on yours in the reflection - you like seeing her face as she’s unraveling you.

—Definitely uses toys on you - she would absolutely hold a vibe to your clit til you literally feel like blacking out, or hold a wand to you while fucking you with a strap, or suck on your clit while fucking you with a toy, too. 

—She’s rough a lot of the time, slapping you and throwing you around, pulling at your hair and forcing you down. But other times, she touches you like you’d break, slow and gentle and calm. You couldn’t ever say that she loved you but, maybe in her own sick, fucked up way, she did. Above all she enjoys being around you, she enjoys making you feel good and spoiling you, and she’s down for most anything.

—She does care for you - again, in her own fucked up way - and she doesn’t leave you hanging, especially after sex that was particularly rough or degrading. She will absolutely hold you close to her and let you come down from the intensity. She’s not completely heartless. She’ll rub your back, stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, get you water, have intimate, deep conversations for hours - all the sweet gooey shit. She really likes to run you baths and even join you in them (let’s be real we know this bitch has a huge bathtub). Long story short she’s not gonna say or do some fucked up sadistic shit to you and not make sure you’re okay afterwards - she’s not completely evil, she just puts herself first in most situations, but when you come around, she kinda melts for you and only you. One time, she was on top of you, fully clothed, kissing at your shoulders and grinding her hips down into yours, and she buried her face into the crook of your neck, whispering oh, god, what are you doing to me, sweetheart? referring to how soft she was around you sometimes, how warmly you made her feel, how you saw right through her cruel bullshit and melted her into a puddle. She eventually opens up to you about a lot of things in her life, her childhood, her past, how she became the woman she was. It makes your heart jump. Sometimes, she is so loving to you, and so mean to everyone else, it makes you feel like the luckiest person on the planet, to have such an intense, cold, self-centered woman like Cecilia take a fondness to you. 

[komitomi]

I hope I'm not bothering you with this request.

Could I request a sort of slight angst-to-fluff and smut request for our Geo Daddy, Zhongli?

Zhongli meets and becomes close friends with a female reader who has a massive crush on him. He is, of course, unaware that she is a female. To him, she just looks like a long-haired male who's on the shorter side.

However, the truth comes to light, when him and reader are in a fight and she ends up getting the front of her top cut open. Shes brushes of the ruined top and continues to fight. Once the enemies are gone, reader is, at first excited, but then looks around in confusion. Why isn't anyone celebrating? Only then does she look down and notice her exposed chest bindings.

Everybody on the field is silent, some whispering amongst themselves. Poor reader immediately covers her breasts in fear and shame. What will happen now? Will her father punish her? What will Zhongli think? So many thoughts were running through her head and it was making her dizzy and anxious. Tears started to form in her eyes as she begs for the whispers to stop.

Then, she felt something warm and soft being placed upon her shoulders. It was Zhongli's coat. The former Geo archon helps her up as he scolds the others for making a fuss about a lady fighting. He asks someone to help get reader fixed up, a new set of clothes and send her to his room.

After getting dressed, reader asks him wonders if she's in trouble. He tells her she isn't, but he does ask her why she's crossdressing as a man when their are plenty of female fighters in Teyvat.

Reader ends up telling him the truth. She's forced to crossdress because her father wanted a son to carry on his legacy and even forced her mother out of her life (aka killed her) so that no one can intervene with his brutal training and parenting. She also revealed that her father gave her two options: she either became a man or marry into a wealthy family.

Zhongli's blood ran cold upon hearing the truth. He even excuses himself so he can leave the room and fume privately. How? How can anyone be this cruel? A young woman was forced to hide her identity and the name she was born with for years, all because of his selfish wishes.

When he returns, he finds her seated on the bed fidgeting her fingers. He tells her that he will talk with her father the next morning to lecture him for his awful treatment of her. She was about to protest, but a firm squeeze of Zhongli's hands on hers has her accepting.

After their talk, she asks for Zhongli to touch her. He's shocked, and asks her if she's sure. She says yes, as she's been yearning for his touch for a while.

Following their nightly activities, Zhongli and her arrive at her residence to talk to her father. At first, her father tried to play dumb but Zhongli sees through his bullshit and goes off on him. After the long lecture, he and reader live together under the same roof.

IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEEEEEE

[cable-knit-sweater]

Checkmate, I couldn’t lose

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: T

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: Modern AU, rich Steve Rogers, con man Bucky Barnes, idiots in love

Summary: Bucky is a con man, ready to steal all of Steve’s money so he’ll be set for life. Problem is…Steve’s onto him from the start, but plays along anyway.

Title from Mastermind by Taylor Swift

So I told you none of it was accidental And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk On your face, you knew the entire time You knew that I'm a mastermind And now you're mine Yeah, all you did was smile 'Cause I'm a mastermind

Written for @allcapsbingo card: AC1005 | Adoptable: Inheritance

Bucky does what he has to, to get by. He’d always been good at bullshitting his way out of things, but when he ended up on the streets as a teenager, he needed to step it up to survive. It started out with petty theft, distracting people so he could sneak a wallet or jewelry away from them to give him some cash to eat and to sleep somewhere. But he learned quickly, had some people teach him more skills, and now, in his mid twenties, he only did the petty stuff to get a little thrill. 

He’d pretended to be so many different people, pretended to have so many different jobs. He’d played some long cons and cashed in. But he was getting to a point where he wanted it to stop. His current funds would last him a couple of years, maybe. Bucky needed one big job to set him up for life. 

Finding the right mark took some time, but he’d finally found him. Steve Rogers was a well-known millionaire, coming from a prominent family. His parents had passed and had left him the bulk of his money in his inheritance, but he didn’t seem too attached to it, ending up in the society pages often enough wearing expensive clothes and accessories, driving expensive cars, stories of women who’d dated him that recounted extravagant dates and gifts. On top of that, he donated large amounts of money to charity each year. 

So, he was someone that spent his money easily, and loved a good sob story. He was perfect. It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous too. Bucky knew just how to part him from a large chunk of that  inheritance. And it wouldn’t take much more than batting his eyelashes and crying a little on cue. This was gonna be it. He was going to be set for life once he was done, he was sure of that. 

He hadn’t been ready for Steve. He’d played it so cool, so perfectly, when they met and he could see the instant attraction in Steve’s eyes. It had seemed so simple then.

But nothing about Steve was simple. Bucky had to tell himself repeatedly why he was doing this, to not lose himself in the game and forget that this wasn’t real.

Steve made it so hard to remember that. He was kind, smart, wonderful. Bucky found himself imagining what it could be like, to actually be on Steve’s arm for real. But that was never going to happen. This Bucky, the Bucky Steve spent so much time on, listened to, laughed with, loved on - it was a character, not who he really was, even if he could feel himself slip sometimes.

Even if Steve could actually like him for who he was, that never was going to happen. Not if he knew why Bucky was here in the first place. He was so stupid. The first thing he’d learned was to not feel sorry for the mark, let alone feel this much for one.

The only thing he could hope for now, was that he got some results soon, so he could leave. So he could leave before it became impossible to do that without breaking his own heart.

Some nights, he felt like it was already too late for that.

Bucky was different. It had taken Steve a moment to realize that, too distracted by a lean body and brilliant grey-blue eyes. Meeting him at the benefit for one of his many charities had felt like faith. Steve was done with dating around and ready to settle down, and at first Bucky seemed like he was interested in Steve for Steve, not his bank account. 

He knew how people saw him. As a rich, spoiled playboy. Pretty, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. He was fine with that, mostly, although it was always disappointing when people didn’t see through that or paid too little attention to him to get that far, too focused on what he could do for them rather than who he was.  

Bucky was different. He was focused on Steve.

There was only one problem. He was too focused on Steve. He knew too much about Steve, played too much into his weaknesses. He was too perfect. Once he’d noticed, he started paying attention to everything Bucky did. It didn’t take long to pick up on the fact that it was all an act. 

He was sure Bucky hadn’t noticed, but Steve saw him slip up a couple of times, things he said or did just not matching up with the picture he was trying to create. It had made Steve smile a little. Bucky was smart, good at what he did. Steve was just too used to people trying to get something out of him, that he could see right through it. But he liked Bucky, so he let him play his game, just to see what would happen.

There wasn’t much he had to lose here. If Bucky managed to con him out of his money, that was fine. He cared little for it, he’d find a way to live the rest of his life without it. If Bucky didn’t manage to win this little game, Steve at least could have some fun while spending time with him, before Bucky probably would give up and disappear as quickly as he’d turned up. 

He was sweet, funny, kind. Steve was more than willing to lose all of his money just for more time with that Bucky. He just hoped that Bucky felt the same. Steve was probably setting himself up for heartbreak. But he was having fun, playing along, and enjoyed every minute with Bucky when he was being himself. 

Steve tried to show Bucky what it could be like without the con, to show him that there could be something there between them. That it could be real, if he wanted to, if he wanted to give up on playing this little game. It was hard to find the balance between showing him that, and making Bucky too suspicious. If that happened before Bucky was ready, if Bucky figured out that Steve knew what he was doing, he’d probably run for the hills.

Maybe Bucky would never be ready, but a Steve had hope. Maybe Bucky would break his heart, maybe he’d con Steve out of everything. But Bucky was worth it, he thought. Two could play this game, and Steve wasn’t planning on losing.

[grimm-the-tiger]

Fuck it, Grisha!Denmark.

More on this AU below the cut:

The Grishaverse is the setting of several (I think like three-ish) book series. It's a vaguely pre-modernity fantasy universe. The first series - Shadow and Bone - is set in Ravka, based on Tsarist Russia, and the second - Six of Crows - is set in Kerch, based on colonial-era Amsterdam. Other areas I can remember off the top of my head are Fjerda (medieval Scandinavia), Novya Zem (Africa, I think?), and Shu Han (Imperial China). In the Grishaverse, some people - known as Grisha - are born with the ability to control and manipulate a given element or material, ranging from flesh to metal, sort of like Benders in Avatar but with less martial arts. Grisha are generally not well-liked except in Novya Zem, where I believe they're considered sacred, and Ravka, where they're drafted into the army to hone their skills for warfare.

Matthias Densen is a fugitive Inferni from Fjerda, which really, really hates Grisha and considers them witches. He, his childhood friend Lukas Ransson, and Lukas's little brother Eirikur went on the run together after Matthias was outed as a Grisha, with the ultimate goal of reaching Ravka, where they'll at least have a modicum of safety.

Because Matthias had no training and very little knowledge of how Grisha powers work outside of highly exaggerated stories, he thinks he's average, probably even terrible, for a Grisha (he's not). Because he's also very dumb, he wears the closest thing he can get to a replica of a kefta, the standard clothing for Ravkan Grisha, and wonders why he's always recognized as Grisha on the spot. Lukas, for his part, doesn't really mind, because it means people tend to go after Matthias first and give him an opening to make a run for it.

Some other headcanons:

Norway is a Heartrender

Sweden is either a Durast or an Alkemi; I haven't decided yet

Iceland may or may not be a Darkling. The "may" is necessary because he wasn't even a year old by the time the trio went on the run, but suspicious darkness-related bullshit keeps happening when he's around, so either he is or he's just the subject of a bunch of really weird coincidences

Finland is the token normal one. He's Berwald's closest friend and could not give less of a shit about him being a Grisha. He hates the Fjerdan government for reasons unrelated to the Grisha

Sealand is a Tidemaker

I'm torn between making Russia a really good Heartrender or a really bad Healer, because I'm not sure which fits him more

China is an Alkemi from Shu Han. Ivan has a fat crush on him, which Yao is aware of but chooses to ignore because Ivan creeps him out

America is an Alkemi; he got it from England, who quite literally went out to get milk one day and never came back. Arthur's probably either dead or wishes he was, not that this shakes Alfred's optimism in any way, shape or form

Canada is a Durast, and occasionally takes work on Netherlands' ship partially for pay and partially so he can look for Arthur. He's nowhere near as optimistic about Arthur's survival as Alfred is, but he's looking anyway just to make his brother happy

France is a Tailor

Netherlands is also a normal human. No one knows what his deal is. He fills a similar role to the Conductor in the TV adaptation, smuggling Grisha who don't want anything to do with the Second Army to Novya Zem via boat. Sometimes he charges people out the nose for his help, sometimes he does it for free; coincidentally, the latter mostly happens whenever Matthew is aboard

[mel-loly]

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Oh.. My buddy... Did you drink by chance..? Because I think you're not thinking very well...👀