#cracky sometimes

[sneakyswag]

Marino study! (Beta just happens to be there a few times)

Love her so! Want to study her hard and develop her character in some fics I’m gonna write!

*Aggressive breakdancing*

Also sorry about the ugly scan

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[moophinz]

It’s really cool that a series called Chainsaw Man about a guy who can turn into a chainsaw themed monster who at one point rides a shark monster is about his deep seated sexual trauma.

[anonomi]

sv_cheats 1

buddha

noclip

*goes into enemy spawn*

It is another beautiful round of pl_badwater and you are one unforunate Sniper.

You are standing among the shoulders of your teammates who bounce on their heels and chatter on and on about things you don't really care about. What's the point in asking about the weather? It never changes.

But you are bound by your duty, or by some otherworldly force that despises you as much as you despise it, to stand here in this spot right next to your Medic, who just won't stop jumping. Before you can turn and tell him that the squeaking of his boots and subsequent rattling of his backpack is more irritating than getting blown up, you see a dash of red in the corner of your eye. Something worth noting, considering you are firmly on BLU.

When you look, you almost wish you hadn't: sliding out of the walls like a mosquito materializing in your sight is, evidently, the RED Spy. He breaks space-time continum, crawling past the physical walls of spawn without so much as a grunt of exterion, all to plop himself down in the middle of your spawn. Only he doesn't drop.

He only hovers. Standing in the air. You eye him as does the rest of your team. You think he might be eyeing you back, but who knows what the hell goes on behind those vacant eyes of his. Not you, that's for sure.

The Voice in the ceiling sounds off and the gates open. You brace yourself.

Instantaneously the room erupts with a mixture of gunfire, explosions, and a lot of angry shouts. The RED Spy is nothing more than a cloud of hot ash and dark smoke. That is, until he surges to life.

You do the sensible thing and get the hell out of the way as he starts stabbing everybody. You run to the wall, as he is very occupied with shredding Heavy and Medic apart. This far, you can comfortably watch as your team dies over and over again at the hands of this, whatever this is.

"He always does this," Spy, who's drifted to your side, mutters. He looks at the proceedings with detached disdain. "But not without reason. What did you do?"

You roll your eyes at Spy, leaning over to dodge a stray arm from hitting you. Looks like Engineer's if the glove is anything to go by.

"What do you mean, what did I do? I was just standing here," you defend yourself. He thinks that just because you can instantly kill the RED Spy it's always your fault whenever he decides to mess with your team. As if he can't do the same. Damn spies.

"Really? Because I can remember three, no, five distinct times last round where I watched him get his head blown off. In a row."

You wince. Okay maybe he has a point there, but "It's my job."

Spy kicks at Engineer's arm. "We're supposed to be on Normal mode, not Expert. Hold yourself back or he's going to turn all of us into medics again or worse."

Spy shudders as he relives the day that the team has agreed to pretend never happened. "Take us to that blasted Smissmas map."

You don't think that map is so bad, lots of good sightlines, but the RED Spy's presence steals your attention before you can retort. You turn and there he is in all his blood-soaked, shambling glory. You can barely tell where the red of his suit ends and where the blood begins. Not that it matters to distinguish, since he's stalking towards you, vacant eyes watching you with predatory focus.

Spy swears. "See you around." And there he goes, running away under his cloak. The bastard. You are barely given enough time to curse him out before the RED Spy is on you.

After a few minutes or an hour, the time is lost in-between dying over and over, you finally wake up and stay alive longer than a few seconds. You blink and look around the spawn room. There is a lot of blood, but no spy.

"Is it over?" you ask. You falter. To your horror, instead of your rough and gravelly voice to greet your ears, it's a hideous velvety tone with an accent you can't shake. You look down and the floor is too close, but more importantly, you are wearing gloves. Calfskin gloves.

You are a spy. You look around to see the rest of your team has similarly metamorphized into spies. You can barely tell them apart, a horrid mix of fancy clothes and masks.

You fall to your elegant knees, holding your head in your hands. Of all the nine classes why, why? You look up at the ceiling but it isn't the Voice who answers you: before your eyes He descends from the ceiling once again, but this time he isn't a spy.

You look into the RED Pyro's vacant eyes as he readies his flamethrower. Not for the first time you wonder what you did to deserve this. Like always, there is no answer, only sizzling fire and white hot pain.

(later, when you are firmly back in your body and the seemingly endless cycle of the war rotates once more, you ignore Spy's advice and target his counterpart over and over. it's only fair.)

[mybrainproblems]

please tell me more about the destiel barbershop quartet.

Okay so first off. It's a curse. How do 'our' world and endverse collide? Idk y'all. Curse. Supernatural. Whatever.

So obviously endverse!Cas is the baritone and our Cas is the bass. Dean and endverse!Dean get into a lil slap fight over tenor vs lead.

The fight is over the fact that neither of them wants to be lead and wants to be tenor. Dean has had enough of subjecting himself to being mainstage Barbie and the mortifying act of being known and endverse!Dean just wants a damn break from leading.

(Dean ends up letting endverse!Dean be tenor bc he starts crying and that's just uncomfortable)

(he compensates by being as out of tune as possible. Crowley is blowing him kisses (and pantomiming blowing him) from the back of the theater)

[teabiscs]

I’ll draw top 3.

(Just no four way tie this time pls omg)

[vagrantclown]

Screaming crying throwing up what the fuck is a gender

[anaalnathrakhs]

hi dear readers, today i offer you: slightly out of pocket crossover

Rating: Teens and up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Metalocalypse, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Relationship: Pinkie Pie & Toki Wartooth Characters: Toki Wartooth, Pinkie Pie, small roles for everyone else Additional Tags: Crossover, Cartoon Physics, Childhood Trauma, Crack, Canon-Typical Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Accidental Bonding, Friendship, graphic description of cake 

[synechd0che]

.

[starvingtongue]

ooc; I hope everyone's have a good week so far. I've been feeling a bit bleh, writing wise, today, so I might lurk for a couple days.

I also started reminiscing about old rolepays and ended up looking through my old blogs, which make me feel really sentimental over all the stupid, fun, cracky asks and threads and things. I hope that one day the rpc circles round to where people feel like they can have that level of fun again. Not that I'm saying people don't have fun, please don't take this to mean that I am saying that, but I guess things have changed since those days. I don't know if people are doing it already, in different ways, and I just happen to miss it or whatever. But, so much feels like it's change in the past few years and I hope that maybe I can at least bring some fun onto people's dashboards again?

[theartofdreaming1]

You asked, so ...

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

Of the top of my head, I think my WIP "A Night at the Museum", which is supposed to be part 3 of my BatCat Series "The Taste of Something Stolen", might qualify as funny - there is just something about Selina's snarky internal monologue that is absolutely hilarious to me:

When Selina Kyle faced Bruce Wayne again, Catwoman had already had her fair share of run-ins with the Batman (not that neither Selina nor Bruce had become aware of the connection of their alter egos just yet).  Despite the Dark Knight’s valiant effort to run interference, burgling was really paying off for Selina. Soon, she had amassed enough riches to allow her to successfully mingle with Gotham City’s upper crust, which in turn opened up even more opportunities for Selina to relieve Gotham’s wealthiest of their “hard-earned” (meaning: inherited) money. Also, it meant that she could much easier obtain invitations to lovely preview receptions of Gotham’s finest exhibitions, such as the one that was currently being held by the Gotham Museum of Antiquities for their new Egyptian exhibition. Selina had received an invitation by way of being the date of Humbert Thaddaeus III, a 30-year-old trust fund baby who had inherited all the wealth and connections of the Humberts before him, paired with a complete and utter lack of any personality whatsoever. Humbert Thaddaeus III was an all-around “all show and no go”-guy, including in the romantic department, which suited Selina’s purposes just fine: All she had to do was look pretty on his arm while he was showing her off to his obnoxious friends, with an absolute minimal threat of him becoming too handsy (which was more to the benefit of his physical integrity than hers, really). The event had started just as any of these VIP shindigs did: with a boring, way too lengthy speech containing only the barest minimum of information regarding the objects displayed in the exhibition, while spending all the more time showering the attendees with praises and flattery for their pecuniary contributions. Selina could barely contain an eyeroll. Once the museum’s director was done almost tripping over himself bowing and scraping to his audience, they were finally given free rein to move about the museum as they wished. Of course, for most of the patrons that simply meant flocking together in the main hall to either network (new money) or gossip (old money, often about the new money that was just out of earshot).

[jundlcndwastes]

& VARIOUS QUESTION SENTENCE STARTERS. | ❛ who’s gonna stop us, huh? ❜ ( for juniper ! ) asked by @aintashes

❝ Fucking nobody. ❞ Said a bit cocky but she was nothing less than such in this moment, lips spreading into a wide grin at Daryl so that he knew that, too. In all seriousness (though she seemed like she wasn't acting that way), she knew that they had this in the bag and had what it took to get things done. They might quite the duo after all, just a pair of badass survivalists.

[redsray]

i love the (slightly cracky) premise that the newer batkids like duke who weren't around during jason's genuine "i hate the batfam" era would sometimes forget that it even happened so there'd be times where it would go:

Tim: where are you going

Jason: got a call from a friend in the alley, some fuckers need bullets in their knees. tell B and i'll kill you

Tim: no you won't

Jason: i dunno, i almost did it twice, third time's the charm

Tim: boooo you'll have to try harder

Jason, flipping him off as he leaves: watch your back, timmers!

Duke, who was sitting next to Tim the whole time: ??? he almost did it twice???? i thought he's joking when he says that????

Tim: oh, he is joking whenever he says that now. try a few years ago and it wouldn't have been as much of a joke

Duke: ???????????

Tim, snorting: i'd like to see him try again, anyway. once you realise that spends 80% of his free time in the local library he becomes no better than a nerdy loser who happens to be a bit dangerous

Duke: DUDE

Tim: what? do you find jason scary?

Duke: not usually but DUDE?!?!?

[sanguinesorcery]

*pauses, looks down at her teapot, looks up*

.....on second thought, ganon dear, get me bourbon instead. i feel it will be one of those nights.

Do you want milk with your tea

[sarcasticdolphin]

Crackfic. Tod and Rudolf are not Lucheni fans. 

Casting is Mark!Tod. 

The Judge: Lucheni, you can either fight one Rudolf-sized duck or 100 duck-sized Rudolfs. 

Lucheni: *Tilts head* I’ll take the duck-sized Rudolfs.

*Der Tod walks in with a bunch of little Rudolfs. Carrying one, several others holding his jacket and pants and staying very close to him. Very much a mimicry of hiding behind a mother’s skirts*

Lucheni: They aren’t duck sized.

Tod: *Snaps his fingers and one of these appears beside him* (650 kilo species of giant bird in the waterfowl family that lived in Australia 8 million years ago)

Tod: *Snaps his fingers and two adult Rudolfs appear and hold Lucheni down.

Tod: Now, my little angels, what should we do with Lucheni here?

The little Rudolf Tod is holding: He’s a bad man. He tells lies.

A different little Rudolf holding onto Tod’s jacket: Olidolf told me liars get their tongues removed.

Tod: *Raises eyebrow in the direction Olidolf, who is helping hold Lucheni down*

The little Rudolf Tod is holding: How do you remove a tongue?

Tod: *Summons another big Rudolf, who takes Olidolf’s place holding Lucheni down* 

Tod: *Hands Olidolf a knife* Your little brothers are curious. Teach them.

Olidolf: *Smirks* Do I get a reward if I do well?

Tod: Behave in front of the children. *Cuddles the little Rudolf in his arms close* I wouldn’t want your bad habits rubbing off on them.

Olidolf: You love my bad habits.

Olidolf proceeds to teach all his little brothers exactly how to remove a tongue.

[affableramen]

Pantalone x inexperienced AFAB reader

very angsty smut with plot. 6K word count

explicit content, minors dni

Note: finally releasing my big dicked king in all his beauty 👍🏻

The man that always wore masks of an extremely affable demeanour had been hiding by any means an ugly heart. Behind the decorous appearance and impeccable manners there was an old bachelor who knew nothing but loneliness before becoming the richest man in the country and after. It was like he was destined to be always alone, he thought. But that perilous assumption was not enough to justify the poorness of his character and the ill manner of his actions while being in close intimacy with someone. Though extremely charming in public, he was incredibly unlikeable to those he spoke privately to. Smart, well-read and educated that was all about him but at the same time it could not save his soul that could only have capacity for three feelings: abhor, greed and lust.

You did not understand him. You did not understand how someone could go about their day throwing false smiles here and there, playing with people as if they were nothing but puppets on strings. He was not a beast, but he was a skillfull manipulator, a creature to you more disgusting than anyone else. You did not agree with any of his false views of justice and you simply knew that the two of you lived in very different worlds. You did not deny that a person was a product of their traumas and experiences, yet somehow the man standing in front of you right now seemed to absorb every filthy trait, every possible flaw one could know. 

He was indeed a man of many flaws, but at the same time he was so captivating for you. So interesting to watch, to study. People were always drawn by something they failed to understand…

“I love you.” You shivered and inhaled sharply upon hearing his false (to you) words. 

The rain’s heavy drops fell chaotically making a mess of the ground under your feet. It was a big rain. As big as the emotions that spoke from the bottom of your heart. This man under any circumstances could not fit with your convictions.

“You don’t know love.” The answer slipped from your lips made Pantalone’s chest squeeze into something shallow and cracky. But he had been the man known for getting what he wanted whenever he wanted, ignoring any obstacles no matter how dreadful they could be. That man did not have a single hint of fear in his heart. He was reckless, foolish sometimes even, so dearly holding onto his plan, believing that he was saving everyone. But in the whole bitter truth, he was only saving himself. 

“Then teach me.”

He was standing there, when the falling rain had washed that smug smirk long ago. The masks were taken off, the true faces were in the light. The both of you standing there were wet to the bone, your fuzzy coat did absolutely nothing to protect your skin from the coolness of the autumn.

It was a long few minutes before Pantalone finally switched his brain on and pulled the umbrella out. He opened it and locked it above your heads. You wished you did not allow yourself doing that, but instinctively you pushed your body closer to the shade of the umbrella, accepting Pantalone’s generousity. 

You hated this man. Did you not? Or did the seriousness of expression he gave you every time you were in sight cause your knees to feel weak? The long, blank face he would give every time the two of you appeared in the same room by chance? How his stupid, false (to you) smile hurriedly morphed into the most tense expression you’d ever seen? This man was so smiley to everyone else… but to you. Or, how his hand squeezed yours for a tiny shallow moment when he pulled you out from his car, at the evening he surprisingly gave you a lift to home? 

Damn those gloved hands! They did not protect you from the heat of his fingers. You imagined the hand under those leather gloves icy cold, but you knew the touch would be so burning at the same time.

“No, I do not hate him. I can’t hate him. Not when he makes me stop in my tracks, not when the sensation I thought dead forever would rise somewhere below my tummy at the mere thought of his eyes on me.”

You finally met his. Yet another piece of decorum was but an obstacle on your way of discerning him. Those damned eyeglasses. He hid his eyes behind them way too well.

“I know what you are about to say. You want nothing more than to once again point out how cruel, unappealing, cowardly and dishonest I am in your eyes. I am perfectly aware of what good people think of me (by any means, you’re one of the good people). But before you start, I want to confess the true feelings I have been burying deep within me for so many months. Seeing you and not being able to express my true feelings or have your company around was but a torture for me. I want to feel your eyes on mine at least once without that judgement and prejudice. Without that desperate hate of yours, the eating, raging fire that wants to burn me so badly. And I would allow you to do it, I am more than convinced of the imperfections of my character. The evil that took lives of many, the greed that made so many suffer and die in aloneness… I am well, believe me for once, aware, that my presence is destructive and dangerous, and gives ground to foulness. And if the charming façade of a successful businessman had been discerned by you so easily, and you have seen the flaws of my heart so clearly, then I admit you have completely beaten me and truthfully taken my heart as a trophy. Because you are, by any means, the love of my life."

You felt your eyes getting wet. This was so foolish and laughable, but it was the first moment between you when you finally felt a tad bit of sincerity from his heart. The little sparkles came out of his deep dark, almost hollow eyes of a rough businessman as he spoke his confession. This man had humiliated himself quite literally in front of you just a moment ago. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Pantalone inquired, the light in his eyes shook with worry.

“Not even close.”

“You look like you are not getting enough sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot, you’re so pale.”

“Is that what you’re concerned about right now?” You said through a laugh that was more a cry of despair. “Do you care about how I feel?”

Pantalone’s face did not crack for a second. He spoke seriously, with firmness of his velvety baritone.

“I do not deny I did not consider your feelings once during the earlier period… I mistreated you badly. But I will truthfully admit that the first time I met you, I looked at you with unknown softness spreading through my mind. The softness I never knew even existed in me. I deemed feelings like attachment and sympathy shallow, my whole life.”

 “All this time I thought your serious gazes at me meant nothing but disgust. After all, I have no name to myself and no wealth behind my back…”

“Dear Y/N…” Pantalone gasped air as if it was not enough for him to breathe. He remembered his horrendous past at that moment. No, not remembering, it would be an understatement. The whole life seemed to rush through his mind, the suffering of a destitute family, the destiny destroyed for one poor child because his family could barely afford sugar. The constant hunger that turned into an echo of eating disorder later. The so usual cold and rain. The stray cats that would surround him. He was never a lucky boy, he deemed his life very cruel and pathetic. Not a single praise, not a single one more fake smile on his face, that impudent selfishness he tried to wrap around his face like a mask, was a good tool to sustain his reputation. But when he was alone with himself, how he looked in the mirror - he always saw nothing but that poor beggar, cursed by the universe, abandoned by the archons and left forever alone to suffer his pain that did not even tiny bit subside. Eating those lavish homely cooked meals by his damn, personal chef! Being served every time when he looked into the plate, his poor traumatised mind forced him into seeing nothing but scraps! He was a beggar once, and he was a beggar forever - that’s how he thought of himself. 

“I do not care if you are not rich. As I myself had been roughly put in the position of a destitute, pathetic beggar once. This all you see”, he pointed at himself, “is but a façade.”

The words leaving his mouth seemed very heavily spoken. It caused him immense pain to dwell on that part of his life. 

“But if the woman I love gave me at least a hint of affection, I would consider myself the richest man alive not by public view but my own, deep inside my wicked heart.”

“Affection?” You broke into a thousand pieces. Your voice shook, you were almost sure you left a shocked noise but you could not be able to hear it, due to the uneasiness of your mind. 

“Affection, yes, the definition of which I so successfully fail to understand. But if you would teach me to love you, showme how I can be the man worthy of your attention”, his velvety voice darkened, no, deepened. “Just one chance.”

You could not believe the words you were about to say, the thoughts that were rushing through your head, but intuitively you knew that this moment was perfectly fitting for the filthy words you longed to let off your mind.

“And if I want that… in the bedroom?” 

The words slipped off your tongue so quickly, you could not bear it and felt how your body reacted with pure embarrassment, sending shock waves through the whole of you, deep red slowly spreading across your face.

"In the… bedroom?" he asked, reaching out his free hand to her gently. He chuckled at last. “I would… I…”

The elegance and richness of his façade had dropped so soon after having heard your blunt but arousing words. There was unspoken diffidence in his stature, you swore you never saw it before. The shape of the ruthless businessman morphed into a rather shy man who did not know what to respond, not insulting or embarrassing you with his own personal opinion. 

“I would not dream of it”, he finally said. “I only imagined a kiss, or two. But to hear you offer—” he cut his sentence. The words seemed too improper to say them outloud. 

The rain was still falling, the two of you were still standing there. Pantalone stopped talking the moment he realised that you might get sick. He wasn't even thinking about his own well being in that moment. The sole purpose of his life became…. you.

(The smut part starts here) 

Pantalone and you had successfully gotten to his mansion to hide from the cruelty of the weather. The cruelty of the weather that you called rather romantic. Once you entered his house you were smitten by the lavishness and luxury, but unlike how you imagined it in your head before (that it would be rather vulgar), it appeared more old, more antiqued to you rather than vulgar. It felt like he bought this house from another rich gentleman and decorated it in his own way, however it still remained with the dark, aging aura within. 

You did not have too much time to enjoy his mansion, but not because he rushed you or because you did not want that - you did, badly. But the solely reason of your hurry was the desire you wanted to fulfill. Something feral, physical, you denied having in yourself for a long time. The two of you dried up, removing the soaked clothes and putting on something else. Pantalone’s servants were quick to fetch you a clothing. The dress was completely new, gray and of luxurious looks. Pantalone would never even think of forcing you to wear one of his previous lovers’ gowns, that obviously had remained in the old wardrobes of the mansion… He gave a thought to destroying all of them as soon as you entered his house. There will be nothing more showing attachment to his previous encounters. You will not suffer the consequences of his careless actions and will never be treated as a regular rich man treats his whores. 

The clothing arrived and you finally dressed yourself, Pantalone waiting in another room patiently. At last, he asked his servants and butler to leave you to all alone. They could swear they never saw their master with such peace of mind. 

“It would be my greatest pleasure to share a bed with you, if the words you spoke before were not satire or a joke to mock me”, he covered the top of your hand with his own. His frail hands… you looked down and saw that they were bare. Slightly calloused, aged, but with impeccable manicured nails and pleasant appearance on the whole. Without his rings they were almost unrecognisable. Perhaps the only clue to see his person in them was the familiar elegance of the movements of his fingers, which were slightly trembling right now.

“There was no satire”, you forced yourself to not waver. “I suspected the… the signs of your appreciation for me, but I would rather ignore them for the sake of my peace of heart. I chose to believe that you-” you covered your face for a moment as if realising the gravest mistake. “That you had hated me to the bone. The looks you had been giving me both resembled hate and softness of heart. I could not decide which one was more vividly depicted.”

“In that aggression, in that hostility, if you may, I hid the softest feelings to you. However with you being completely honest and so blunt (which, belive me, does not ruin your attractiveness by any means) I feel myself preoccupied with rather primal desires. I want you as a man wants a woman. I don't want you as a friend. I want you on a level that is way more personal. In a way that, if described accurately, will raise scandal and be considered sinful and dirty.”

And he said it like that, in the most down-to-earth way possible.

“There is always a little bit of scandalousness involved when one person desires the other.”

You tried to comfort him in a way that would resemble his wordings. Having been pleased with your answer, Pantalone chuckled softly. You realised that the clothes you just put on were going to be taken off you once again. But this time, not by the maids - by Pantalone himself. 

“I usually have my valets undress me. But tonight, I trust myself to you.” He smiled playfully. You started undoing his coat gently, slowly, playing with the buttons in your fingers. 

“How many women did you have?” You asked nonchalantly, trying to play the coolness of character, but the blush of your cheeks would betray you.

“That is the question the answer to which might disappoint you.”

“I want to know. Besides, you are alone with me right now, and for a reason”, finally getting to his shirt you apologised, “it may have been rather too forward of me, forgive me. I am just trying to learn more about you.”

“Gossips won't always provide you with a rightful answer, my dear. Though I am not a womaniser, nor a man who ‘has received intimately more women than he can count’, I have had my fair share of experience.”

“Then I think you should lead me.” 

You finished unbuttoning his shirt, the clothing that was an obstacle for you to seeing his chest you desired seeing so. Finally, the shirt was not longer covering his top and you found yourself astonished seeing his scrawny physique. He could not be considered explicitly skinny while wearing all those layers of luxurious clothes. That was quite a change for you, but you still found yourself drawn to it after a few moments. The pale aristocratic skin seemed even more graceful to you when looking at him so closely, so personally.

“Turn around, my dear”, Pantalone asked you smoothly. You complied, and he started undoing your dress. The unabashed manner of his intricate movements confirmed that undressing a woman was but a regular practice for him.

The way his fingers moved felt so skilfully, a thought of what else good he could do with them crossed your mind unintentionally and gave you shivers.

“And do you often indulge your primal desires?”

For a few short moments Pantalone did not say a word. It was only after he undid your dress that he responded, calmly:

“The past few years I have been less enthusiastic than when I was in my full grace, in five-and-twenty.”

The confession, and the feeling of subtle hint of Pantalone having physical imperfections, for example, rheumatism, that is often seen in men of his age and would be a hindrance to remain well-performed in intimate activities, made you let out a slight giggle. 

Your dress was undone and you felt slight tightness somewhere in your throat, realising that once you’d turn to face Pantalone he would see your breasts in all beauty. His hands gently touched your shoulders, but he did not have to press on you, as you turned to face him by your own will shortly.

A low sigh escaped his lips once he saw you, naked, bashfully but gracefully standing in front of him. From his perspective you were the most beautiful woman in the world. He could not dream of anything more satisfying than this. 

“I do not deserve such beauty”, he said quietly, forcing himself to tear his eyes off your chest and look you in the eyes at last. His hand moved to your cheek, caressing it before it moved to your hair and gently pulled on your hair pins, letting your hair fall waves on your shoulders.

“May I?” Pantalone let yet another gasp when your hands appeared on the belt of his pants.

“Whatever you wish to do with me. I am yours.” He slightly pulled his arms to the sides in a welcoming gesture, but only for a moment. 

You slowly unclasped his leather belt and in two languid motions he was completely bare in front of you. But if earlier he was bare just mentally before you, at this moment, he was standing quite literally naked. 

“Pantalone, it’s-” so big. 

He was not even close to a man who could be called rather hairy in terms of bodily hair, but a few dark black hairs were stood out below his waist area. You found it extremely hot, a knot in your stomach was imminent. 

His piece was already stiff by the time you freed him of his clothes. The sight of it startled you, almost causing a gasp of your own.

“Are you-” Pantalone held his tongue, but the question was too important to be simply avoided. “Are you inexperienced?”

You nodded without a word coming out of you. Yes, despite your age you still had not known marital activities.

“I should have realised it sooner. Forgive me, I would have been less rapid with the manner of undressing you.”

“The manner you undressed me with was above beautiful.”

Pantalone smiled, and you smiled back, however there was still a pattern of worry in his eyes, a slight embarrassment even. He simply cared a lot for your sensations, not wanting to cause you any hint of harm.

“Don’t worry, all you have to do is relax and trust me. Will you do that for me?”

You stepped out from your dress, completely revealing yourself bare. Although impressed by the beauty of yours and the attractiveness of your skin, the smoothness of your complexion and the sweetest smile he had ever been given to, he held himself back in order to not cause you unnecessary tenseness.

“The process will be slow, I will treat you gently and carefully.”

In no time you felt your body on the king size bed, the softest cotton of sheets welcoming you naturally. You let out of a gasp seeing how Pantalone was quick to tower over you, his body was not big, it was skinny, but he was a man of considerably tall height so he seemed, at that moment, quite huge compared to you. 

“Don’t be afraid”, he moved the hair strand out of your face, and then his finger traced a slow path down your lip, slowly tugging on it down. Your mouth parted, you looked at him the way a woman madly in love would look at her man. You did not know you could feel such hunger for anyone.

Pantalone then leaned to kiss you. The movement was very languid, smooth and almost innocent at first. Shortly, Pantalone sought entrance to your lips, parting it softly. With the carefulness of his tongue, the finesse of his skills he was teaching you into the art of love making. The kiss was long enough to leave you breathless, but sudden greediness burned inside you, telling oh, eternity will not be enough for you to feel him.

“I might need just one question to be addressed.” Pantalone pulled away from the kiss and gave you a look full of warmth and appreciation.

“What is it, my love?”

Gulping impatiently you steadied yourself. It was impossible to keep a blank expression on your face while having the thoughts of such wanton nature. 

“Do you prefer to be in complete charge when it comes to such activities? Do you play a dominant role in the bedroom or, perchance, allow bit of work by the other party?”

Pantalone was a possessive man by any means, and regarding business he was known to be ignorant of advice. He always did the way he personally preferred it, in accordance to his experience and end goals. 

But of course it was hard to predict him in marital relationships. The question you asked, you knew, it humoured him, as he let out an amiable chuckle.

“I won’t lie and say that I prefer to take a dominant position as to intimate relationships. That, of course, does not cut your chances to treat me with similar eagerness.”

He allowed you fervour and that was everything you needed to hear. 

“I will start now, slowly warming you up. Don’t worry about anything, I want to ask you to feel me. Close your eyes…”

His voice alone was so soothing and made wonders on you. You shut your eyes, even though the curiosity disagreed.

There it was, a sensation you never knew possible. You felt the Harbinger’s hot breath on the centre of your heat… It was embarrassing, almost insufferable, upon realising that his head was between your legs, you felt nothing a strange sense of vulnerability. But all worries as if by magic had stopped once he parted your legs and kissed you right where it would send butterflies to your stomach at only single thought of this. 

His tongue lapped against your wetted core, very kindly at first, but with more time passed his manner became nothing but of someone who had earnest dedication to their beloved one. His tongue was slowly pushed inside your quivering slit, your eyelashes fluttered impatiently. Pantalone managed to drew tiny pants and gasps out of your lips with success. 

He did not plan on pleasing you with his mouth only, you assumed, when you felt the gratifying coolness of his fingertips. The firmness of his fingers when he rubbed your clit was embellished with the gentleness, the slowness of pace. At first, you didn't make any sound at all. You were completely and utterly smitten, adjusting to the senses of pleasure newly discovered by you. Only when his finger slid inside you carefully (but with great precision still) you let out a noise so scandalous and filthy. 

“M-more…” you buckled your hips to the pleasure. Pantalone took advantage of it and added a bit of force to the movements of his finger in and out of your centre. Being overly sensitive due to your inexperience, you let out a cry.

You felt dampness unlike anything before. It was gathered in your heat, the fluids, increased in volume with the intensity of the earnest love making action, covered you. 

“Archons, Y/N, you’re so aroused.”

It was not long after he added the second finger you could not deny yourself the ecstasy anymore and gave in to the feelings completely. You felt warmth in the stomach area and not long after you presented him your release, dampening his fingers to some degree. 

You clawed his arm in frustration when you saw him move away.

“Pantalone, I want to make you feel good too.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Please, allow me to-” touch you where you touched me. Pantalone did not need you to continue. 

“You want to bring me pleasure?” He sat on the bed, looking at you expectantly.

You slowly moved to your knees and sat yourself comfortably as well, as close to him as it was possible in such circumstances.

“May I touch it?”

“Of course. You may touch it as much as you please. Don't be shy.”

“Is it pleasant when I do it this way?” 

“You may grip it firmer.” Pantalone made a distinguished “oh” with his mouth once your fingers grazed the soft skin of his peachy-coloured head. 

“Frankly speaking, I am quite content with making you satisfied first, my dear. I wish nothing more than to bring you to the peak of satisfaction again and again. But if you want to take care of my body, I shall not deny you any of it.”

You attempted to gently stroke along his length, drawing small groans from Pantalone’s lips, only to be soon once again kissed passionately and as fervently as possible. You were pushed back into the softness of the sheets, and when the kiss came to its logical end, Pantalone gave you a look that was more attentive than fervent. That was the moment you realised what dominant approach meant to him. It was frustrating witnessing how he did not let you proceed with rubbing his member, clearly did not want to allow himself even a tiny amount of vulnerability. It saddened you, but at the same time a dominant approach didn't seem so bad to you either. 

“I will be completely frank with you, it might hurt at first.” You nodded, seeking the already so dear to you the calmness in his eyes. 

“I can handle a little pain. I am alone with the man I trust.”

You did not believe you said that so openly, considering that just an hour ago you were persuaded that you hated this man to guts.

You saw his hand disappear somewhere in between your bodies before a connection so intimate by body and mind finally happened. 

Dull pain spread over your abdomen, your thighs felt unnecessary heavy, when his tip was pushed inside you with one definite movement of his hips. You gasped, gripping into Pantalone’s neck almost outrageously, unintentionally firmly, but meaning him no harm in fact.

“Continue… please, use it to the full extent”, you panted, knowing for sure that you sounded like someone who begged his heat to be inside her. 

You did not have to request him twice - Pantalone entered with one full, satisfying movement and let out a long held breath:

“H-hah…”

The pain was indeed there, just as predicted, however he fit perfectly. Pantalone found your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Here, take my hands in yours. Grip them as tightly as you wish.” Your hands squeezed his, not tightly enough to hear the slight crack of his old man bones, but tightly enough for him to feel your wholehearted commitment.

“Now, I want you to keep your eyes on me, for me.” Pantalone said, deep buried within you, but not moving yet, letting you adjust, his hips looking extremely poetic in this angle. You held your breath for a moment when you saw how darkened was the colour of his eyes. He was so aroused - both physically and emotionally. You could feel his ragged breath and thought: oh my goodness, if he panted like this by simply being seated inside me, what noise is he going to make once given permission to move?

Your curiosity was soon satisfied. Pantalone gave you a careful push, as if tasting your insides, how he fit you with his hardened manhood. A particular sudden noise escaped your lips in accordance to the movement, and you started melting to the touch. You were already incredibly aroused when he pleased you with his tongue and fingers, but once he thrusted into you with ideal precision, which could only be possible for a banker by profession, you moaned filthily.  “Okay?” He asked when he gave you a tiny taste of what’s to come.

“Okay.”

“Hold my hands, look at me”, he whispered, his voice dripping not with threat, it did not resemble his usual order-giving like manner. It was a gentle request. To which you complied, focusing on holding onto him. 

“Are you in pain?”

“Not anymore. I think I’m…” you panted, “getting used to the… size. It’s getting more difficult to stay… silent.”

“Why are you holding your voice, my love?” Pantalone inquired, perplexed. His eyes bore into yours as his whole being buried deep inside you, slowly but steadily picking up the tempo.

“What if you don’t like the way I cry?”

"God damn Y/N”, the curse slipped from the banker’s tongue. You felt proud of making such a collected and well-mannered gentleman who represented nothing but affable demeanour in public, cuss.

“I’m fucking the woman I love, and if I’m making her cry of pleasure I want nothing more than to hear it.”

He released your hands at once and cupped your face in his cool hands, leaning towards you so closely in order to bring a delightful kiss to your lips. Upon not feeling his hands anymore you pouted, but the so wanted sensation was soon replaced with generous amount of warmth and electricity that occurred once Pantalone gripped your hips and increased the force of his thrusts.

“Oh my god, Pantalone… Oh my god… I feel like I’m losing my mind.” You scratched his back involuntarily, and you were sure it was not entirely pleasant for him, it might even leave red marks.

“Then do lose your mind, with me. Oh, my love-”

Your eyes were glued to his lips almost unblinking, but once he moved his hips so forcefully, your mouth opened with a loud sigh.

“Soon you’re going to feel pleasure you’ve never thought about. You’re going to think of things that never crossed your mind. You’re going to experience the peak you never thought possible. And I will be the one making you happy, should you allow me.”

“Of course I’d allow you!” Your panting replaced with blunt, honest cries of pleasure as his hips were moving gracefully and quickly with precision and passion. You noticed him abruptly stop, but only to change the angle.

“It’s better like this”, he gave you sloppy kisses all over your face, “deeper.”

With the smooth change of angle, something else entirely had been awakened in you, and with all passion of your feelings, all sincerity of your earnestness, you called Pantalone by his real name in the midst of love making. 

“Fuck, Y/ N. Where did you hear this name?”

You did not respond, overwhelmed with passion and lust that were only developing in you gradually just now. There was a noise that came from his lips which did not resemble a hoarse, manly groan, but rather a vulnerable moan of someone close to the so desired release. And your assumption was confirmed when Pantalone buried his face into your neck and said with a tone extremely close to that of pleading:

“You may not respond. It is but nonsense right now. Oh Y/N, please, say that name again…” 

Had he always been so handsome?- you thought. Had he always been so eye pleasing to you?- you did not know. But the way he was towering over you right now, panting, losing control both of his silver tongue and graceful body, seemed hot. It was not just scarcely amiable to you, the way he was being with you in such intimacy gave sprouting to the carnal desires you must have been hiding. The kisses were not exactly chaste anymore, and the way you stared into his gloomy, void-like eyes was not even close to platonic.

You said Pantalone’s real name again and again, tasting it on your tongue, playing with it, giving it more intense intonation with each thrust of his thick manhood. 

“Archons- [his real name]!” you yelled again, this time realising you were close to falling apart, and even if you were lying on the bed you still felt insecure and unstable. You were shaking, but for a good reason. You did not even consider his mansion staff hearing such filthy moans containing the master’s true name slipping from your mouth. It was all irrelevant now.

Pantalone did not finish after a couple of shallow thrusts but he undeniably lasted not long. He could not, for the desire to finally have you was tremendous and his heart was practically throbbing in his chest, as with one more vulnerable, high-pitched moan he squirted his release.

You felt satisfying warmth dripping down all over your stomach. It was supposed to be unnoticeable, but due to swelled sensitivity you could still feel it. Seeing the creamy mess, however, you did not flinch in disgust. 

“I must apologise for staining your stomach.”

“We can clean that just fine.”

That instant, hearing your recommendation Pantalone grabbed a freshly smelling towel from his wardrobe and wiped you clean.

“You, cleaning your seed from my body. The evidence of what we had done together. Doesn't this seem incredibly personal to you?”

“It does. I want to provide you with the sweetest aftercare, because you are deserving each second of it.”

After cleaning you dry Pantalone got under the blanket closely to you and kissed you. The kiss this time was not dripping with fervour; it was soothing and gentle. You pulled the lock of his hair down playfully and asked with a smirk so unusual in contrast to your diffident behaviour during intimacy.

“Did I take you well, banker?”

“You took me exquisitely. I apologise if my performance was not as satisfactory as you imagined. Let’s say, I was overwhelmed with eagerness to feel you thoroughly. The noises you would let out, the movements your hips would make to match mine. I find myself madly in love with you more and more by every second, and this intimacy was a development to enormous extent.” Your breath hitched and shook when he cupped your face the way he did it during your closeness, except for this time it was slightly less rough. 

“I know you do not love me as much as I would want it to, but just letting me look at you the intimate way I do now, is enough for me to feel happy. I never thought I would be the one saying that, but I admit happiness does not consist of the material wealth only.”

“[His real name], I love you. I’m sorry that I lied to myself for so long. I’m sorry that I fooled you, too. I desire your company so, so much. You are my favourite person in this world.” The Harbinger’s hand which was stroking you froze in place. He looked at you, his eyes behind the glasses still looked deep and resembled the abyss. But you knew for sure that the way he spoke sounded nothing like of a man who was evil to the bone. It was soft, pleading, handsome and many other qualities, if someone heard you describe Pantalone with, would be called laughable. But this man was not as transparent as many thought. Behind the mask of the affable businessman, who was merciless to his rivals, there was a man who longed to be loved and taken care of. 

“Oh, Y/N, Y/N…” his eyes were glistening with hint of tears. “I love you. I need you, too.”