#god i hate Endeavor so much

[pens-and-paperbacks]

Endeavor is almost a perfect allegory for what the society in the mha universe does to people who can't be heroes or use their quirks in a way to benefit society, which is cast them aside or pass them over without over giving them a second glance until uh-oh! Suddenly they're worth being noticed because they're a threat.

He apologizes to his family, which is good! If you're a bad person and did terrible things, the first step in your own transformation and atonement should be to acknowledge what you've done and to apologize to those you've wronged. Great!

Thing is, Endeavor set off a chain reaction with his abusive, neglectful and downright irresponsible choices that it damaged everyone in his family for life.

I don't think someone who causes one of their own children to literally go up in flames, crying because they're finally getting attention from their father and family in the very end, ever deserves to be forgiven.

[eldritchqueerture]

.

[yukioos]

BED CHEM

SUMMARY: viktor x reader // you and mel walk down the hallways of piltover university when suddenly, you encounter two men trying to break into a professor’s laboratory.

AUTHORS NOTE: hiii!! so sorry i haven’t posted in a while. season 2 of arcane broke my heart, but it was so cool. anyway, im working on an ashley and ada writing atm, but pls be patient. this is 1.2k words and something i randomly thought of because of a pinterest comment under a photo of viktor

WARNINGS: trying to break into a room, reader is interpreted as feminine because of a long dress and heels, reader is a councilor, not proofread

as a new member of the piltover council, you’ve been the busiest you’d been in your life. constant laws to vote on and tedious, frequent meetings could make you feel annoyed at times. however, you made a new friend, who you’ve become extremely close with in the past couple of years.

you and mel knew each other when you were younger, just never hung out as much as you do now. despite not having strong connections to one another at a young age, it opposes how you are now. she’s invited you to her nightly scouting at piltover university.

it isn’t an interesting activity to do, but you love hanging out with mel. during these times when you explore the large university for hours, you find much time to converse with the noblewoman. sometimes you and she hold your giggles after telling the other a joke, not wanting to alert a trespasser.

this night doesn’t seem to be unlike all the others. you walk down the decorated halls of piltover university with a flashlight in hand. your flowy black dress hangs low to your ankles, and your and mel’s heels clack against the tile floor.

you and mel whisper amongst one another, she asks, “have you had your eye on anyone lately?” smirking softly and side-eyeing you.

you gasp and your cheeks flush, “‘course not, mel! i just… have not found the right person yet, i guess.” your smile diminishes.

your heels continue to clack against the ground, and you feel a cold breeze on your bare arms and leg, exposed due to the slit dress. you shiver and rub your hand on your arm, keeping the flashlight in front of you.

there’s a moment of silence between you two when mel hesitatingly speaks up, “maybe jayce has a friend you will feel… attracted to.”

“eh, i’ll just not do much. maybe let the universe pull me to the right person instead, yeah? i would hate to waste my time on the wrong person—“

she places her arm in front of you, squinting and giving you a look. you tilt your head before you begin to hear voices, and you quietly turn your flashlight off. mel keeps hers on, and the two of you tip-toe closer to the noise. it seems to be close to heimerdinger’s office, if you remember the university layout correctly.

“so far, so good—“ a man with a thick accent whispers, as if trying to hide his actions.

mel turns the flashlight on, and you cross your arms. the two men shield their eyes, and you recognize one as jayce talis. you tilt your head at the sight of the other man with brown hair and a defined jawline, who is turning a key into the door labeled ‘pf. heimdinger.’

mel taunts, “hmm. willing to risk exile for your endeavor. that’s quite the conviction.”

“councilor!” jayce interrupts, “what a surprise to see you, huh?”

then, the mysterious man comes up with an excuse, “wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom. how could i have…”

jayce stands up from his knees and pleads with you and mel, “please. we can prove that it works.”

mel comes up with a contradiction as fast as lightning, she hums, “hmm. you couldn’t do so earlier today, how is tonight any different?”

“we figured out how to stabilize it.” the pale man replies.

he eyes are sharp toward the noblewoman until his gaze travels to you. his eyes widen and his cheeks flush, he can feel himself becoming warmer and warmer. you can tell he’s observing you and your actions, as well as your attire.

god, you’re beautiful.

he doesn’t say many words over the next couple of seconds, but you smile at him, warming his heart quickly. he’s knocked out of his mind when mel speaks.

“you’re the professor’s assistant,” she refers to the man with the keys.

jayce disagrees, “no, he’s my new partner.”

you nervously chime in, sticking close to mel, “even if you manage to prove your theory, the other council members would destroy it.”

“heimerdinger will recognize the potential, miss l/n,” the handsome man says.

he knows your name!

mel scoffs, and she’s not having any of their crap, “he already does. it scares him. it scares them all.”

“what about you, miss l/n? you are on the council, correct?” jayce’s partner asks. his eyebrows furrow in curiosity, and your heart melts at his eyebrows twitching upwards.

you ponder for a few seconds, staring at him and slickly moving closer to the man. you respond, taking a few moments to think of how to form a sentence in front of such an attractive guy, “i think any worthwhile venture includes risk. and please, call me y/n.”

you hear whistling from the hallway, and you give mel a glance that makes her infer, ‘we need to make a decision quickly.’

“councilors, this technology, it’s real. and no matter what happens here, it’s going to change our world. we should be the ones to lead it. piltover, the land of progress, equality, innovation. i know it sounds impossible, but when have we ever let that stop us? please, just give us a chance.” jayce explains.

you glance at mel, and you assume she’s left the decision to you. you reply with a sigh, “one night, you two. i want to see in the morning how you have progressed your technology.”

“thank you, councilor l/n,” the one in the white tie thanks.

you quietly nod and smile, waving to them as mel gently pulls your arm and turns the flashlight off. she goes on to distract and talk to harold, the enforcer. as you step down the hall, you glance behind you to hardly see the nameless man staring at you back. he then gets pulled into the room by jayce, who seems urgent to work on the high-end technology.

as councilor medarda’s flashlight flicks off, and you and mel walk away, viktor’s still standing near the entrance of the laboratory. he sees a shine in your eyes even through the dark hallway, however, he doesn’t know if you can see him as well.

he doesn’t even notice jayce has unlocked the door until he gets pulled in by the taller man.

“you were ogling at councilor l/n.” jayce grins, teasing his partner.

“i was not. that would be unprofessional and inappropriate. plus, we are here to work on hextech,” he attempts to change the subject, “we should get working on it.”

“i’ll work with mel to set you two up.” jayce objects, rolling his eyes and chuckling at the slender figure.

viktor couldn’t pass up that opportunity.

“who’s the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?” you ask mel, walking away from the enforcer.

she grins at you, showing her perfect teeth, “that was viktor. and from what i can tell, he’s interested in you.”

as you continue to walk down the hallway, leaving the university to travel toward your bedroom, you go to sleep with a happy feeling in your chest.

[busylilbee]

The Vibe of my life at the moment is my best friend and I discussing going on a 40+ drive through largely remote grizzly territory where we would be sleeping in our car with all of our food and shit and being like "if the car gets attacked by a bear in the night and we have to scramble to the front to make a get-away half asleep at least it will be a funny story"

[gangplanksorenji]

Clandestine

Pairing: NewJeans’ Danielle x Male Reader

Word Count: 6,000

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This is probably the last fic I'll be writing and releasing this year because I'm getting occupied with my own endeavors. This is purely 97% a BFH fic because this Dani look is killing me.................. (god, that waist) Enjoy reading it! <3

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“Try and keep it secretive, please.”

Those words define what’s the goal—mouths shut, all within yourselves.

You’ve been living your life on the edge, playing with fire and Danielle is the gasoline that keeps igniting it and it piques you, delving for more. It’s scary, outrageous to the very least but in the greater perspective, it’s blissful and fun and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

Try, like what’s stated. It’s ultimately the goal and you’d revolve around that single word every damn time.

You have a reputation to protect, and it’s all in the means of Danielle because a single mistake can bear a scarring loss, because she has everything to lose and you’re to blame if it were to happen (the latter is speaking in hypothetical terms).

“Can’t wait, hm?” Your eyes gaze towards her, plastering a faint smile as you continue to pepper her neck with kisses that felt too euphoric on Danielle’s end.

“Ahh—how can I wait?” Her moans bless your ear, and you absolutely take that as an affirmative with her delight. She knows on herself that you’re insatiable and she hates it—temptation breaking as the both of you are speaking, and she’s feeling every ounce of your energy all over her skin.

Her hands roam around your body, feeling your kisses get herself acting up and writhing under your control. You turn, tilt her chin to face you and all you can see is a visage worth an awe. “You’re so goddamn pretty, Dani.”

These compliments just ignited the utter bliss she feels, lips curling into a smile of sincerity adding up to her impeccable beauty that no one can rival. You rest your nose onto her neck, then peppering it all over again as your hands handle her with care and the absolute ambition to let her know how much you adore her.

“You—you’re kissing me so, so good…” Danielle’s accent is candy to your ears, and you’re just replying with more intimacy. Her hands find the hem of your shirt, dexterous fingers lifting it as her primal instincts kick in until your hands hinders her advances.

Danielle whimpers, a hot breath brushing against your ear as you locked eyes onto hers. “Not yet, Dani.”

A visible pout by your sunshine, and immediately, you’re captivated but not enough to break the façade. “B-But why? Oh…”

Patience is what she needs, and as selfish as this sounds, your needs would be the priority for fulfillment.

Like what’s stated at the beginning  you’ve been living at the edge with her and thankfully, there’s no instance enough to bear such a result that would crumble a reputation. It’s just not helping where you’d be damned to live if ever Hanni catches you with such mess with Danielle and it’s doubled down with Minji—you’d be gone for good, that’s for sure, but Danielle has this hold against them that wouldn’t let you go and stick this risky relationship that could bear a scarring demise.

But who cares about that now? Not when her figure is all for your eyes to drool upon, in full display with her pants and that shirt curled into a crop top unleashing something within you—she looks unreal, sculpted to perfection as the outfit accentuates her undying hotness, a gift for you to admire and lastly, savor.

Your hands roam around that tiny waist of hers, abs flexing with your enervating touch that earns faint, sultry moans escaping her lips. You caress it and she continues her vocalization, ceaseless with your aims of adoring every inch.

“God, this fit—” Your power was evident, pulling her towards you as she gasped with your domination, and then smiled as she anticipated. “—is insane. I never thought you could be any hotter.”

It’s true, factual even, because numerous people would agree to you on how hot she looks with these kinds of fits. It does help knowing how she’s cognizant to push your buttons, and with just the tip of the iceberg, you melt and those eyes of yours tell a story.

“I knew you’d love this.” Danielle’s expressions smoulders a little, her face contorting confidence as she knows how she’s your kryptonite, and it’s mutual—even if it’s ego-driven, you can’t deny the fact that she’s alluring and you love her confidence because she knows she’s fucking hot.

You’ve seen multiple cases on the Internet, ever-so-liked within the people in various social media platforms sharing Danielle’s impeccable figure and the raises alongside it. You’re glad you’re in the first row of her show, always hitting and selfish because it’s all for you eyes to see—only you. Her fragrant smell hypnotizes you and it’s effective, luring you in and investing in more efforts into worshiping her. Kisses, suckles and licks is her threshold, currently shivering with the pleasure you give her as her ragged moans are enough for a conclusion. 

“God—please, stop…” You stop once she calls your name again, hoarse, feeling that she can’t possibly handle the way you’re treating her—you assume she’s more sensitive with you and nothing else. You’re visibly puzzled, lingering that assumption within you as you’re vocal enough to address her sudden words to feed off against her needs.

“Anything wrong, Dani?”

“I—” Her lips are quivering, hands fiddling the hem of her shirt as her doe eyes invite you to listen, and you're all ears for that. “—want this.”

You know where she’s going with this as her hands run down to your pants and near the vicinity of your nether regions and god, her fingers alone would make your beast stand up in vigor. Your hands hold hers, guiding her through the zipper as your other hand finds its way onto the valet of her curves, teasing the skin of her spine that’s enough to make her release a dulcet moan towards your lips. “How do you want it, hm?”

Your voice is alluring, predominantly teasing as the last hm signifies your interest. Danielle just moans with your repeated touches, and she’s barely coherent and mostly mumbling, what more if you're going a level further? “Can’t quite hear you, baby.”

You’re now pinning her against the wall, you weight pressing against her slightly as you eyes then face her and begged, “Just kiss me first, please.”

That please of hers was so lovely and sincere you can’t afford to lose this opportunity. You were surprised with Danielle’s initiative, cupping your cheeks as she pulled you in for a kiss and you quickly reciprocated. The sloppy sounds and the sultry moans escaping your lips signals the deprivation, and it’s all fulfilling every second that passes.

Her lips are soft and you won’t get exhausted kissing those all day, even if it means your own lips to be numb. It’s sweet and hers is torrid, the exchange heating up the permeated humidity she exuded just by herself and she’s just igniting it all throughout.

“Kissing me so good, Dani…”

“Can’t blame that you taste great.” Danielle spits the truth, her lips curling up on a smirk as she bites her lip, currently in this state of need and her face alone just lit the fire inside your heart. “Now I need this.”

She cups the apparent bulge, visibly poking onto the fabric of your pants as her daring advancements makes you utter a faint moan in which she chuckled, a victory in her possession.

“Getting too bold, are we?” It’s straightforward and lustful, and definitely, you like it. 

You’re not going to introduce the necessities for foreplay and more, and with the lust growing inside you that’s matching hers, you’ll let her do what she’s great at and with a single command, reply with immediate compliance. “Drop down to your knees, baby.”

It felt like her knees faltered, dropping down with a thud onto the cold floor as her hands then found its way onto the edge of your pants, tugging them and licking her lips in anticipation. Now loosened up, she pulls them down and lets gravity do the work, making a puddle of your clothing onto your ankles. She’ll steal glances towards you while working her wonders, and the contradicting natures of the sight just below your waist sends you into overdrive—her gleeful yet seductive smile covers up to the sins that he’s about to do, and it’s aligning all too well.

“God, I’ve never done this for a while…” Danielle’s tone permeates that self-doubt since it’s factual, marking maybe months until she’d indulged herself into something like this and it doesn’t help with the group’s busy schedules and everything that’s making their time occupied prior to this.

You tilt her head, facing towards you as her eyes meet yours, and you reassure her. “You’re a natural, Dani—besides, just let yourself be what you are.”

Let herself be, and ultimately, she knows that it’s always what she is in situations like this. Letting the doubt aside and her hunger to take over, she impatiently yanked your boxers down, joining it onto the puddle of worthless clothing down to your ankles. Danielle’s eyes glimmer with that lingering captivation as soon as the beat inside you unshackles from its clothed prison, almost hitting her in the face as it stands tall and stiff, waiting for her touch to enchant it.

She coos, hot breath within that reddish crown and you moan because of it. “Still a-as monstrous as I remembered.”

The teases probably get into you (even though her tone laces with sincerity), uttering a laugh as her lips part, a pout on display, gently kissing the leaking slit and her hands roaming around your base and onto those balls she always loves to taste. Of course, the sunshine descends down into the darkest sins, carnally worshiping your cock with an eager suck to collect that liquid you’re leaking and the profound spit that she lathers all around your length. You doesn’t leave any inch untouched with her lips and sheathed with her saliva, as her attention averts down to your balls and plays with it, her hands pumping you with a leisure pace that’s enough to wring that pleasure you’re always seeking.

“Looking great so far?” Your legs are probably viable to give out, knees shuddering as her touch sends you into the abyss of gratification. She knows the answer to such a rhetorical question, living up with the compliment you withdrew earlier and it’s factual, she's naturally skilled. “You know the answer to that, Dani—fuck…”

She replies with her tongue now dancing around your throbbing cock, her snug mouth encapsulating half of your length as she eagerly bobbed, up and down, and no stopping. Your hand finds its way onto her messy bun, tied upright with a clip and you could just let yourself feel every ounce of pleasure being brought by Danielle. 

It was hurried, ephemerally increasing the pace as her mouth gets messier, her own saliva seeping out of her mouth supports the fact. You kept moaning and it invigorates her for more, until she knows she;s approaching her limit.

She gagged and immediately pulled out, and your mouth just showered her with compliments and those eyes of her shine with your approval. “You’re incredibly gifted, god…”

“Can’t help it tastes really, really good, daddy.” The name, the word, god, she knows what buttons to push against you. 

She always does, in most cases and you’re here to indulge with the fact that she’s controlling you slowly. You would give in to her dominant nature against your cock but here, you still stand and it’s contradicting—you’re nowhere near being precarious, and you’ll take that heavenly mouth of her anyday (like you would resist it).

She voiced out your insatiability, impaling her mouth with your own length and bobbed frantically, her immediate actions sending your sensitivity onto the roof and so is the pleasure. She treats your succulence like it’s her favorite popsicle, sucking onto every inch of it and savoring the flavor that’s probably inviting her more roughness and you could feel it.

“God, Dani—shit!” You’re unable to utter coherent sentences as you’re involuntarily shouting out the pleasure she brings, and you could look down and see that smile printed onto her lips, even with a mouthful of your length. You caress her cheeks, run your fingers through her dark-colored locks that’s messy enough to compliment the disarray of her doings. 

Here it comes, those eyes of hers locking onto yours, so innocently-looking with the scintillations telling a story full of her wonders and with those very eyes of hers, you’re hypnotized. Her pace never falters, almost pumping her head and kissing your base everytime she buries her throat full of your length, and it almost makes your foundations meet its crumbling outcomes. Her gags are apparent, jerking her head onto you but she fights, because she wants to deliver the utmost pleasure you deserve and with that determination, you’re absolutely going to reward her.

The inevitable is bound to happen, as she ejects onto your saliva-sheathed length, strings of her drool connecting onto her lips and your tip, marking her shirt and soaking so little of it and she catches her breath, chest heaving with what she’d done. “G-God—oh, I—”

“Hey—you did fucking amazing, holy shit…” You’re vulgar and bold, and she doesn’t mind it because it’s mutual when you did your own oral expertise onto her—possibly no one heard her swear so much as ever before whenever you eat her out, and it’s a concealing fact that’s only exclusive between the both of you.

Her lips, swollen and pink, shiver with the sin she has done but she never regretted it, and instantly becomes gleeful once your praise is registered within her. “All for you, daddy.”

Of course it is, and she was giving her hundred percent with every second of this opportunity. There’s still a soft heart within you, consulting her as your eyebrows furrowed, subtly worried. “Are you okay, though?”

“Hah… yes, daddy—I just want more of this cock.” She’s a little exasperated from such an impressive act she’d done to you, and her smiles reassures you and with the eagerness of her livid strokes says a lot. 

Danielle holds onto your rod with a vice grip, tight enough for more moans to escape your lips as her lips find its way onto your tip, lapping up the scrumptious taste that she’s addicted to. It was evident, utterly in need for you as she didn’t build up a pace slowly for yourself to get used to, and did the opposite. The pace counts for your release, and it’s evident with the way she’s doing everything in her power to inch you closer to her deserved reward. She takes more than half of you and fondled your balls, earning the sultriest and knee-shuddering moans that urges her for more.

You avert your eyes down, and she’s occupied with your cock, hammering her mouth with it and hollowing her cheeks whenever she feels wringing out the best gratification she can muster. She’s closing her eyes, feeling every inch of you until the back of her throat, gags following and you persistently throbbed in reply with that. She tames it and you admire it, fighting the urge to release her vice grip around your length.

Your eyes then drool all over her impeccable figure, even when she’s down onto her knees—the perfectly sculpted curves of her waist to her hips while her head fades onto the sight with a bobbing blur just ignites the thought of ruining her.

You're lost under her spell, and you wanted to see those beautiful eyes of hers, as she does what she’s best at. Lifting her chin up with your index finger, you gulp and give in to your desires. “Look at me when you're sucking me off, Dani.”

She obliges as she meets your gaze, your face contorting slightly with the pleasure as her ruined visage is enough to know how much she’s enjoying it.

It’s the same cacophonous sounds that deafens your ear with, the same music you won’t get tired of listening if it means to make Danielle feel the delight she always deserves—the concoction of slurps, gags and sloppy sounds are the things at the tip of the iceberg.

Her pace increases, and now, your hands find her hair again as an outlet against the ultimate pleasure she brings, drilling into her mouth deeper without your awareness, balls slapping against her chin due to her breakneck pace. You would want to prolong the dopamine rush within your veins, but the curtain calls out to a painful denouement tha would conclude the first part of an exquisite show she’s laid upon between your legs.

The throbs are persistent, and she doesn’t have a plan to pull out and you have your own desires that’s ready to be fulfilled.

“I’m close—c-can’t hold it anymore—” You gulp right after, breaths uneven as the both of you are just savoring every second, eyes closed and yearning for more. You assess every pump her mouth does, how tight and pleasurable it is and you can’t absolutely hold it anymore until something disturbed the force of things.

A loud pop is what you’ve heard, and you can just see Danielle stroking your messy length with the fastest velocity her wrists can muster, and it just earned more moans from you. “I’ve always wanted to do this, daddy…”

You know where this is going, lips curling up a smirk and pretending to be oblivious. “Do what, exactly?”

You can feel the familiar tingle within your groin, and it’s only a matter of seconds before the inevitable paints her white. “Add up to the mess I made myself, daddy.”

“Open wide, Dani.” She does as she's told to, releasing the grip that almost strangled your length and did it yourself. 

That sullied countenance of hers is a sight to cherish, savor every second and every detail on how messy and beautiful she has become as everything concludes down to the most important act. 

You groan and point it where it belongs, a pretty canvas painted white as every inch is possibly covered with how thick your load is. Every spurt hits the features where everyone leaves with an awe, living up to the words she let go of and you did just that. Nose, cheeks, forehead, mouth and even her neck—it’s incredibly lucky how none of your load got up to her clothing, possibly writing the script of just ruining what’s just worth defiling.

If these walls could just talk, you hope they wouldn’t say anything because you will be damned if anyone catches the both of you doing such unforgiving sin.

Her lips quiver, still kneeling down as she grips your stiff cock, stroking it leisurely and then inviting you with a gleeful smile that possibly refutes the sinful sight, faking the convincing innocence. 

Those eyes of her pleads, and there her dulcet voice goes and you know you can’t turn her requests down. “May I clean your cock, daddy?”

You cup her cheek, maintaining that eye contact as your fingers trace the cum you left onto her, and then directing it onto those soft, kissable lips of hers that’s known for an abundance of talents. It was agonizing with the way you trace her features, and she suckles onto your fingers needily like she hasn't sucked the life out of you just a minute ago. She closes her eyes, relishing and humming in satisfaction with the taste she’s longing to lay her taste buds on.

You pulled out and earned a whine, and then replied with a jovial approach. “No one’s stopping you.”

No one is, and not even herself. 

Her lips parts against your engorged tip, tongue swirling around it and tidying up the mess she made. It’s sensitive and it’s the guilty pleasure—it’s slightly making you turn on even more, pushing your limits and as well as the buttons for your lust. 

“You’re fucking gifted, Dani.”

It’s these small admirations of her actions that urges her to complacency, but giving everything that she got up her sleeve. Her mouth swirls around and it and eventually, she pulls out and stares at you, reeking that anticipation that lingering within her because she knows you’re not done with her.

Once she pulls out, she remains on her knees, and you take the opportunity to scoop out the cum that stained her heavenly-sinful face, directing it onto her mouth and cleans it repeatedly. It’s nearly cleaned up, but nowhere near the finish line as the both of you are just getting started, and you’re vocalizing your frustrations evidently yet nowhere near hostile.

“Get up, Dani.” She obliges with your command, your feet kicking the clothing and deeming it useful and the sunshine that gleams innocence brews a storm, and you know she’s ready for phase two.

“Dying to be balls deep inside me, daddy?” Of course you fucking are, and she’s just asking that to rile you up and it’s effective, cock twitching up in the air as soon as she let go of such sinful words.

She knows you, and it’s just making things worse in the right ways.

Danielle’s face is just inches away from you, and you’re just dying to get that feeling of her utter tightness. You grew impatient, controlling her lithe frame with a grab on her waist, and let herself face the wall and her arms resting on it as well. She gasps with your roughness towards her, chuckling a little as she wants this kind of treatment and she deserves it. A wiggle of her petite ass invites you to just undress her bottom half, but you would admire the hourglass figure she possesses, every inch of her curves urging you to defile the living life out of her.

You deeply adore her with all your heart, unable to hurt her but whenever she invites you to be one, you wouldn’t waste the opportunity and give in to your carnal desires.

Your hands roam to her clothed butt, feeling the softness of it and how it’s perfectly sculpted and all too right. Unable to deprive yourself of such a sight, you wrap your arms around her hips, undressing her pants and unshackling her heating slit and there it goes, all for you to feast upon.

“You promised to be rough, right, daddy?” She looks over her shoulder, tone laced with high expectations as a moans follows, feeling the cold air brush against her skin. 

“If that’s what you wanted—” The restraint is now onto her ankles, then off to somewhere in the vicinity. Your eyes meeting the last bit that conceals your grand prize, but it didn’t come without a reverberating sound that earned the sexiest moans Danielle could muster. “—I’m not thinking a single thought of giving you mercy.”

Fuck, she unleashed the monster within you, and it’s all for her to take.

It wasn’t just one, but a barrage of slaps onto her petite ass, making her writhe a little and her arms shaking with the pain and pleasure you’re treating her. You mark it red, imprinted with your hands before stopping and she whines, knowing the best is yet to be introduced. 

It was another moan that escaped her lips, and with the last bit of defense down and destined to be useless, you know she’s up for a show.

“Da—oh god, daddy!” Danielle whimpers once she feels you, going deeper and earning more moans that made her body shudder with the gratification. You plunge not too deep inside her, and immediately, you are met with an overwhelming tightness that puts you in the same boat as hers in correlation with the profanities you both voice out. You grab her hips and her waist, drawing herself closer to you as she’s barely standing on her ground with your control, and you’re just within the tip of the iceberg in terms of your pace.

You give herself a breathing space, but Danielle’s plans weren't in accordance with yours, her voice coarse yet still, surprisingly sweet that urges you for more.

“More, daddy—f-fuck me harder!” Your hips increase your velocity, the initial speed of it sending her thighs in a recoil with your harshness, drilling deeper and withdrawing repeatedly that’s enough to fuck her up, senseless. Somehow, she’s even coherent to articulate words, urging you for more and yearning for you to go deeper.

“Fuck—oh my fucking god, more—aw!”

“God, you’re just so tight, aren’t you, hm?” You’re pumping her like you’re marking up your dominance against her, and it’s fulfilled, now filling her up to the brim. You marvel with her unparalleled tightness, hugging your length like it’s suffocating it and repeatedly groaning because of it. With her repetitive pleas, comes resonating spanks that just makes her leak more of that nectar, creating that wetness that runs down in rivulets on her thighs. She’s creating puddles down onto the floor due to your own rough endeavors into her pussy, legs shaking and rippling in every thrust you do that sends her into overdrive.

You’d bet she’s seeing stars right now, the reason is stated as follows: withdrawing with just the crown inside and then slamming back into her, balls deep, just right for her to delve down onto lustful, high-pitched screams that voices the overwhelming pleasure running down her veins.

This is not great, and with a harsh spank, you retort at her and make sure she’s unable to do it again. “Quiet down, Dani—you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

If it’s ever the case, then the both of you probably are. The suspicious noises are just enough for someone outside to check out what’s with the pandemonium of noises that’s just getting too familiar. You didn’t care, to the very least, continuously pounding her tight cunt and dismissing the fact about the risky unveiling of the truth.

Danielles muffled her screams with a bite on her shirt, shutting herself up and that alone makes you ignite the carnal beast within you, testing how much she can bear.

Her legs are possibly wobbling, getting weaker with how rough you are treating her as every clash of your bodies results in an addition to the symphony of moans, an ocean worth swimming in if it means your ears to get blessed.

You surely are, and you’re at the top of the world because of it. 

“God—this pussy—” You groan, spanking her and then lean on to kiss her neck, your tongue nibbling onto the pristine, milky skin as your weight gives her reasons to be dangerously precarious. “—is just phenomenal. This will always be mine.”

You marked up your territory, and Danielle knows who owns her heat, and it’s up for you to ignite it. The kiss was ephemeral, hurting her because she wanted to feel your lips longer against her neck but she’s just grateful that you’re still ruining and impaling her up to the hilt with your length. Your hands run its way back to her hips, and immediately continue with a consistent pace that inches her closer to her own high.

With the way she’s leaking like a faucet around your rapid length, you know it wouldn’t be long until she reaches euphoria.

“C-Close, daddy—so fucking close—you’re fucking m-me so, so good!” Danielle’s clearly enjoying this, and with her compliments comes your own fulfilling reply. You kept fucking her cunt like it’s going to be your last, every thrusts your hips muster clashes against her skin that accentuates roughness. 

“Please d-don’t stop fucking me—please, please!” She’s lost in the blissful trance, lust and desperation taking over as gone is her innocent image, truly in the depth and unable to go back up. You did what she pleaded as her juices coats your length in all angles, even adding up onto the puddle onto the floor and wetting down her thighs. Her knees shake, arms flailing with the impact her orgasm brings her, but you didn’t stop and fucked her through it, being in the same boat as hers—lost in the trance.

Her walls clench around you and it earns that primal roar out of you, her tightness aiding to the pleasure you’re also experiencing. You’re just cognizant with the fact that her expression probably concludes into the epitome of ecstasy, and all-throughout cockdrunked with your own reckoning. Wanting another angle to savor how her walls feel, you pull out of her and she immediately whines, asking why would you do such a thing.

“No, d-daddy—no, please, put it b-bcack in—”

“I will.” You grab her wrists and her hips, turning her around to face you and given her small figure, it wasn’t a challenge to control her. “I just wanna see your beautiful face while I ruin you again—make you cum again.”

With your strength, you squat down to inch your arms under her thighs, and immediately lifted her like it’s nothing, and with her swift recovery, her senses became aware and directed your throbbing cock inside her tightness again. She yelps and involuntarily holds onto your arms and neck, supporting her frame and continues to stare at your eyes, glistening with lust.

Her back is pressed against the wall as you thrust upwards, not even starting off slow and introducing a harsh pace, like what she wanted all along. “God, I could fuck you like this all day, Dani—god, you’re hot.”

With the way her abs flex in every thrust you do steals your attention towards it. Maybe her workouts at the gym are worth something more than what she always loves to do, and you admire how toned and perfect it is in every angle. Her supple frame and her flexible legs makes it easier to drill deeper into her cunt, uttering the sultriest and hottest moans by Danielle. With this profound angle, you’re in total domination all over her, controlling her as she gives in to you, trusting you on how you’ll ruin her with care. 

“God, daddy—you’re fucking me way too good!” It’s just the deepest primal instincts within her that’s commending the way you’re treating her, and you love every word laced within it. You continue to hammer her upwards, feeling her tightness enveloping you again as her hands find a leverage to hold on but are unsuccessful knowing it’s just a wall behind her. 

Your lips then smashes against hers, wanting to increase the libido within you as the clash is something lingering with need and hunger. Both of your lips add up to the erotic soundtrack that’s composed out of spite, filling and permeating the room with the sounds of sex and nothing more. 

You’re not going to lie, the shirt that accentuated her figure is just the perfect example of a nuisance, and Danielle hurriedly undresses it, revealing those perky tits with a white bra clasped around it. She’s just too hot to bear, and a perfect candidate to be ruined and you’re proving why she lives up to that position. She threw the shirt onto the bed beside, and continued to rest her arms onto your shoulders, then resumed her moans as it became erratic once you suckled onto her neck, inhaling the scent that you always love.

“I can’t believe h-how much of slut you are for my cock, honestly.” Even if she retaliates for a reason, she can’t deny the truth as your length turns her into a new person, consumed with lust and following you like a leash. She can’t utter a response, not when she’s being pounded into oblivion and another high inching closer towards her.

“I can’t daddy—too good! Too good!!” Her exclamations are the voices of her lustful nature, she’s possibly built just to say the same sets of words once you’ve plunged everything inside her. The cluster of the same moans and pleas escapes her lips, and you know she’s set for another blissful  climax and it’s all thanks to you.

Maybe the walls weren’t so opaque to shackle what’s behind, unveiling the secretive assault towards Danielle and you didn’t care—you’re chasing towards the promised land, to set foot there and get lost within that hill.

“Gonna cum, da—” She’s cut, and then, she releases.

Nectar seeps out to the edge of the crevices, forming rivulets and spasms that’s felt in her body, magnitudes unlocking new heights of delight as you fuck her through it, knowing your hopping onto the same boat as hers.

All things are destined to an end, and you want a conclusion worthy to paint something remarkable for the both of you.

“Outside, p-please—cum for me, daddy—” You’re still carrying her while the pleas register within you, burying your shaft and immobilizing your thrusts while coursing your way towards the bed. You throw her, not enough to hurt her but enough to hear an audible thud as you pull out, and eyeing her figure with such hunger that fueled you for another release.

“I’m gonna fucking paint that tight waist of yours, Dani.” You stroke your cock with a breakneck pace, an identical event like earlier as she invites you, her tone crumbling down your walls and building up another reward you’re eager to give.

“Then paint it, daddy—ruin me.” It’s simple yet so hot that you can’t fathom how she’s able to choose words that could fuck up the way you’re thinking. She’s embracing the eventual rain of another hot load, closing her eyes and you could count to five and not make it past three—

Then, it comes.

You aim towards her slim waist, showering the abs with numerous spurts that can rival your first one, multiple shots earning moans from your lips due to how euphoric she made you. You lick your lips, hands wringing out the pleasure and prolonging and eventually, it subsides down for you to admire the fruits of your labor—a work specifically painted meticulously, done and worked on a canvas that’s sprayed white.

Her chest heaves up and down due to the exasperating session and roughness you bestowed, but looking into her eyes, there’s no glint of regret and just grateful you’re able to show who you really are.

“God, you fucked me so well, daddy…”

Your breaths are ragged, your cock getting flaccid as Danielle still has the power to stand on her wobbly legs, your cum running down her porcelain skin and her hands finding its way onto your beast, still urging for something more.

“All for—argh—you, Dani—all for you, god…” The sensitivity skyrockets, but it doesn’t matter, not when you’re finding her lips again, exchanging torrid and intimate kisses.

As you’re about to find your way onto the fine plane of her spine, and towards her ass, a heavy set of knocks baffles the both of you, and it’s fucked up 

“Dani, why are you taking so long right there? Hello, are you there with him? What are the both of you doing??” It’s a familiar voice and your senses are heightened, and with an anxious look, Danielle reassures you and shouted words that would possibly assure the girl that everything’s fine.

“Hanni’s gonna kill me, Dani—”

“Shhh…” Her fingers meet your lips, muting you for more advances that won’t help the situation. You help her clean up with the tissue that’s on her desk and hurriedly dress yourselves up, looking presentable as much as possible. “It’s fine—nothing’s going the wrong way, daddy.”

You’re living your life on the edge, and you would be damned for dear life if Hanni unveils the truth yet Danielle’s golden personality outshines that and it’s only a matter of time before she puts those onto the test.

You can end up on both roads of besmirchment, that expected disappointment from Hanni or a surprising turn of acceptance but one thing’s for sure: you achieved what the both of you wanted, and that concludes up onto a triumphant note, all wins and no losses.

[artist-issues]

I Hate How She Talks About Snow White

"People are making these jokes about ours being the PC Snow White, where it's like, yeah, it is − because it needed that. It's an 85-year-old cartoon, and our version is a refreshing story about a young woman who has a function beyond 'Someday My Prince Will Come. "

Let me tell you a little something's about that "85-year-old cartoon," miss Zegler.

It was the first-ever cel-animated feature-length full-color film. Ever. Ever. EVER. I'm worried that you're not hearing me. This movie was Disney inventing the modern animated film. Spirited Away, Into the Spider-Verse, Tangled, you don't get to have any of these without Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937.)

Speaking of what you wouldn't get without this movie, it includes anime as a genre. Not just in technique (because again, nobody animated more than shorts before this movie) but in style and story. Anime, as it is now, wouldn't exist without Osamu Tezuka, "The God of Manga," who wouldn't have pioneered anime storytelling in the 1940s without having watched and learned from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in the 1930s. No "weeb" culture, no Princess Mononoke, no DragonBall Z, no My Hero Academia, no Demonslayer, and no Naruto without this "85-year-old cartoon."

It was praised, not just for its technical marvels, not just for its synchronized craft of sound and action, but primarily and enduringly because people felt like the characters were real. They felt more like they were watching something true to life than they did watching silent, live-action films with real actors and actresses. They couldn't believe that an animated character could make kids wet their pants as she flees, frightened, through the forest, or grown adults cry with grieving Dwarves. Consistently.

Walt Disney Studios was built on this movie. No no; you're not understanding me. Literally, the studio in Burbank, out of which has come legends of this craft of animated filmmaking, was literally built on the incredible, odds-defying, record-breaking profits of just Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, specifically.

Speaking of record-breaking profits, this movie is the highest-grossing animated film in history. Still. TO THIS DAY. And it was made during the Great Depression.

In fact, it made four times as much money than any other film, in any other genre, released during that time period. It was actually THE highest-grossing film of all time, in any genre, until nothing less than Gone With the Wind, herself, came along to take the throne.

It was the first-ever animated movie to be selected for the National Film Registry. Actually, it was one of the first movies, period, to ever go into the registry at all. You know what else is in the NFR? The original West Side Story, the remake of which is responsible for Rachel Ziegler's widespread fame.

Walt Disney sacrificed for this movie to be invented. Literally, he took out a mortgage on his house and screened the movie to banks for loans to finish paying for it, because everyone from the media to his own wife and brother told him he was crazy to make this movie. And you want to tell me it's just an 85-year-old cartoon that needs the most meaningless of updates, with your tender 8 years in the business?

Speaking of sacrifice, this movie employed over 750 people, and they worked immeasurable hours of overtime, and invented--literally invented--so many new techniques that are still used in filmmaking today, that Walt Disney, in a move that NO OTHER STUDIO IN HOLLYWOOD was doing in the 30's, put this in the opening credits: "My sincere appreciation to the members of my staff whose loyalty and creative endeavor made possible this production." Not the end credits, like movies love to do today as a virtue-signal. The opening credits.

It's legacy endures. Your little "85-year-old cartoon" sold more than 1 million DVD copies upon re-release. Just on its first day. The Beatles quoted Snow White in one of their songs. Legacy directors call it "the greatest film ever made." Everything from Rolling Stones to the American Film Institute call this move one of the most influential masterpieces of our culture. This movie doesn't need anything from anybody. This movie is a cultural juggernaut for America. It's a staple in the art of filmmaking--and art, in general. It is the foundation of the Walt Disney Company, of modern children's media in the West, and of modern adaptations of classical fairy tales in the West. When you think only in the base, low, mean terms of "race" and "progressivism" you start taking things that are actually worlds-away from being in your league to judge, and you relegate them to silly ignorant phrases like "85-year-old cartoon" to explain why what you're doing is somehow better.

Sit down and be humble. Who the heck are you?

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

older brother touya au, endeavor is still an asshole, shouto interacts w his siblings lol, bby shouto, hyper active kinda rough reader (you tackle shouto), shouto and touya have an unspecified age gap but i was thinkin like 10 years (so touya is 17 and shou is 7), just a liiiil bit angsty but mostly fluffy, lemme know if i missed sum else !

touya knows his little brother shouto is kinda weird.

he rarely ever sees him happy, or with any sort of emotion on his face for that matter. he has little habits that he hates not being able to follow and he's incredibly nit picky about them. he doesn't outwardly emote but that doesn't mean he couldn't be bratty when he wanted to be, cus he is but that's also about super specific weird stuff like what he wants to have for dinner (which always ends up being cold soba anyways).

he's also not much of a talker. he's a little shy, but he also just doesn't like talking. it's impossible to miss the huge red scar around his eye, he doesn't like to play outside and roughhouse like touya did when he was his age and he still doesn't have any friends at school. shouto never seemed to be bothered by it, though touya assumes that his peers might find him weird too.

except they better not, because touya's the only one who can call his brother weird. and deep down, he worries a little for him.

until he comes back home from school, his sweater is tucked out and there's a dirt stain on it. his hair is messy and his backpack is haphazardly closed, his little notebooks propped inside and his pencil case threatening to fall out.

natsuo, the one charged to pick him up that day, sheepishly scratches at his neck "he won't tell me what happened to him." he explains as touya practically charges towards shouto, he doesn't look hurt, so his older brother roughly turns him around to check his bag.

" but i told you what happened, natsu-nii."

"you don't have to lie, shouto--"

"what happened to you ?" touya cuts in, looking inside his brothers bag to check if nothing was missing, it looks intact from what he can tell.

"i played with my friend." shouto says simply, like that explains why he looked like he'd just walked through a hurricane. touya already knows he's gonna get an earful about this from his father. he inwardly groans.

"you sure your friend didn't just mug you ?" he flips his brother around and shouto's little arms flail as he does, unbothered by his brother's rough treatment. he tilts his head, touya sighs.

"bully you, i mean."

shouto's eyes widen, then he hurriedly shakes his head, denying him ever getting bullied and simply claiming he was playing. touya shares a look with natsuo, who looks just as unconvinced as him at his brothers words.

"who's this friend of yours, shou ?"

"yn."

"yn ?" both brothers say at the same time. shouto nods and touya catches a small little glint in his eyes as he looks back at him "she's really nice."

"this doesn't seem nice. you look like you got robbed." touya furrows his brows, sneering at his brothers dirty shirt. he starts dragging the youngest toward the bathroom. hopefully he'd be fully clean before their father got home and he wouldn't have to get in trouble. for god knows what reason. enji todoroki would probably find a way to place the blame on him, something about how he should've been the one to pick him up or gotten there earlier he guesses.

"yn likes to play games where you move around a lot." is what he offers as explanation. touya hums absentmindedly as he ushers his brother into the bathroom, deciding on how he should deal with his youngest brother's first ever bully. because of the age gap he doubts the kid is any smaller than his brother is, so he thinks he'll probably just try to scare off whoever this yn is.

"how 'bout i pick you up from school tomorrow and i can meet yn. that sound good ?" and shouto excitedly nods at the idea, gushing about how funny and nice you are and that you share your snacks with him. it's weird how fondly he talks about his bully, but touya knows his brother's always been a little weird, he probably has no idea what's happening to him. the thought makes him frown just a bit harder.

the next day after school, touya is already at the gates before they've even opened ready to scare the pants off of his brothers harasser. he sees shouto walking out of the gates with a few other kids, alone. the little boy perks up once he sees him and sends him a high wave, which touya returns with one of his own lazier one's.

"where's your friend ?" he tries his best not the spit the word too venomously, shouto doesn't seem to notice.

"yn is coming. her bag isn't closing well, so she told me to go ahead without her." he explains, reaching for his brother's hand absentmindedly.

touya is about to respond when he hears yelling. yelling that gets closer and closer to them until he notices too late that a little person is rushing towards his brother. before he can pull him out of the way the person has jumped onto shouto and knocked the both of them onto the ground. and touya watches flabbergasted as his younger brother does not look surprised at all, like shit like this just happened every tuesday. his mouth falls open when the little girl that had charged into his brother excitedly starts hopping slightly on top of him.

"shouto !"

"hi, yn."

touya is going to fucking lose his mind.

you get closer to shouto's face still sitting on him, touya assumes to make sure he could hear you even thought he doubts he couldn't before. " i thought ya left without me, i couldn't see you !"

shouto shakes his head, still on the floor "i said i would wait for you." he says seriously. and you practically beam, nudging your cheek to his and rubbing it against his affectionately. shouto doesn't seem fazed by it, but he definitely doesn't seem angry.

you don't seem like a bully, at least.

you finally realise you're not alone, looking up at touya strangely "who're you ?" you ask bluntly. shouto responds before he could. "touya- nii's my older brother, he's the one i wanted to show you."

you don't seem like a bully, especially not when you immediately turn to shouto the moment he opens his mouth, holding onto every word you hear. your eyes widen looking between touya and him, "that's your brother ?!" shouto nods proudly. you finally get off of him allowing shouto to get up too.

"coool !" you exclaim, but then you quickly turn towards shouto " but you're cooler, shouto !" shouto's eyes widen, before he almost bashfully looks away, claiming that his touya-nii is was way cooler than him. touya has never seen his brother this expressive before. it might not be much for others, and if he were anybody else he'd think so too. but even the fact his brows raise when you speak and he actually engages in conversation with you, as short as he keeps it, is surprising.

but from that small interaction, he can assume that you're not a bully. and he understands why his brother looked like he got jumped yesterday.

you're so much more different then him though, it's weird. you're hyper and giggly and chatty. you jump around and you can't seem to pull yourself away from shouto, who really doesn't seem unhappy although you're a bit rough about it. it’s like you’re glued to him.

shouto who barely even talks to his family talks to easily with you, even though you start the conversation all the time. shouto who only ever eats cold soba gleams at your promise to bring more snacks to share with him, like you apparently do every day. and shouto who touya barely ever sees emote, smiles when you tell him something funny. he can't tell wether his little brother smiles because he actually finds what you said funny or because you do. but whatever it is, it's making him happy.

touya is so shocked simply staring at his brother interact with another human being that he fails to use the little 'leave my brother alone if you know what's good for you.' speech he'd practiced the night before and suddenly you have to go. waving at him and shouto (not before hugging him with all your might first), who sadly waves back as he watches you leave. though he cheers up just a bit when with a last wave you tell him that you'll see him tomorrow.

touya, despite not having said a word feels incredibly tired, so he starts pulling his brother along home with him.

"so..that was your friend."

shouto nods "yn." he says.

"yn." touya parrots, eyes drifting from his brother to the road ahead of him. "she's kinda weird, huh ?"

at that, shouto's eyebrows furrow hard and he furiously shakes his head, tugging at his brother’s hand "no. she's nice." he corrects adamantly. touya stares at his brother, before looking away again "right.." he sighs "well, she seems to like you a lot."

his little brother nods again, a faint smile forms on his face "cus the people in class are mean to her. cus she's new and they say she's weird, but i don't think she is." he rambles, he actually rambles, touya blinks. he doesn't think he's ever been more surprised than he's been today. "yeah ?" is all he utters.

"yeah. people think i'm weird too, but yn says she thinks i'm cool." touya's eyes soften at his brothers words. he raises his arm up so his little brother is slightly lifted in the air. "course you're cool, you're my little brother." smiling softly to himself when shouto giggles.

touya knows that his little brother is weird, but he doesn't have to be worried anymore. cus it seems you like him, that you think he's cool and that you're weird too, in your own way. shouto keeps coming back home with dirty clothes and messy hair after that, but with happy and satisfied eyes and little candies he shares with his siblings that he made them promise to keep a secret. and he thinks his little brother will be fine, as weird as he is.

[occamstfs]

Follow Your Nose

Robin's not happy about visiting his student's frat house but with each heady breath he finds new pleasures to be gained from the experience.

Another Musk based Frat TF! Not breaking new ground but I like how this one turned out haha! Also in the wake of my contest I'm restarting the queue on my other blog so if you want to see what I read/have any burning questions send them over there! Hope you enjoy this little scent-centric romp! -Occam

Robin hated being on this side of campus; he doesn't know why on Earth he agreed to do a homecall for office hours. Totally unprofessional of course, but the grad student was simply so tired of sitting in his cold office for nary a soul to show up. When Carlos reached out asking for some one on one assistance the T.A. agreed to venture to what he was told was a common study area. What Carlos hid from Robin was that it just so happened to be his frat’s living room. 

The researcher almost turned around and rain checked as soon as he saw. But after Carlos texted to thank him for his help, whatever scholarly version of the Hippocratic oath he took compels him to continue onward despite himself. It of course doesn’t hurt that the slightly younger man seems to have been made in a lab to attract Robin. Though the professional has done his absolute best to remain professional and push down the repressed desire. Though as he steps in this is made far more difficult.

Carlos welcomes him into the frat house clad in a far too tight, clearly stained, tee and what seem to be, impossibly gaudy, similarly tight, athletic shorts. Immediately Robin’s face sears with blush and the smirk that is almost always at home on Carlos’ face grows wider. Before the fratty fiend can get a word in the grad student speaks up, fighting through an embarrassing voice crack, “uHm- Mr. Esperanza if you wouldn’t mind, could you change into something more appropriate for our session?” Carlos tilts his head, deliberately exposes his midriff as he scratches it. After a moment he laughs and answers remembering why he’s dressed like this, “Oh sure sure no problema bro.” 

Robin’s eye twitches as his student opts for bro rather than his title, name, or anything vaguely respectful. The T.A. hears the man’s hands scratching thick hair out of sight before he sniffs his hand and rubs his jaw, continuing, “It’s just uhhh, my laundry’s still in the machine so this is all I could throw on before you got in huhuh.” Robin holds his tongue from deriding the man’s shoddy planning, I mean for god’s sake they had an appointment!

So intent on hiding his attraction to, and irritation at, his student, Robin doesn’t quite catch the glint in his eye as Carlos offers an idea, “if you wouldn’t mind, uhhh, professor? You could go grab me some pants or somethin’” Not wanting to correct Carlos’ switch up to a title far loftier than his own and before he can even humor the idea that he’d wander deeper into the frat house, the bro thanks him as if he’s already agreed. “Thanks much lil bro- I’ll get us all set up here. It’ll be the third door on your right but you can probably just follow your nose hahah!”

Robin squints his eyes at the brazen assumption that he’d do anything of the sort. And yet, preferring anything to confrontation, he acquiesces with a sigh. The faster they start the faster Robin’s out of here. But a step down the hallway his nose wrinkles as he realizes that Carlos was not being cute, he can genuinely smell the laundry room far down the hall. Taking a deep breath and centering himself before the air is full of more musky sweat than oxygen, he shifts his jaw in irritation at the situation he stumbled himself into and presses onward.

Robin pushes open the unreasonably heavy door of the laundry room and enters. He hears the door slam but keeps his eyes forward as he endeavors to spend as little time in here as possible. Pushing down rational questioning of why he is doing this, in his haste he makes the mistake of opening the washing machine rather than a dryer that would presumably hold Carlos’ clothes. Before he even realizes his mistake he is almost blasted back by the potent musk spilling out of the drum. Choking out a ‘why wasn’t this run…” as his eyes glaze over and he is overwhelmed by the scent.

It’s as if there are more particles of sweat in the air than, uh, air. His mouth falls open to avoid smelling but that only heightens the experience and leads to him taking deeper breaths. Despite everything in him screaming to leave now, Robin feels himself drawn towards the machine that simply must have been intentionally compiled to smell as musky as possible. As the seconds pass Robin feels his body begin to move of its own accord, like an out of body experience he sees himself inch closer to the machine. There’s a struggled swallow as he is suddenly conscious that he is drooling at the scent of the frat’s dirty laundry.

When his hand reaches into the filthy load of laundry he feels his autonomy return and he quickly draws back. Clothes almost crunchy with sweat, and other substances, he stands stunned as he tries to understand what he just did, why he did that. Only then does he notice that he is so hard that anyone who glanced in his direction would notice. It almost hurts as his cock strains against his underwear and pulses with deep need. 

Priority rapidly shifting to hiding his massive erection should Carlos stumble in Robin opts to adjust his pants. Rather than doing it surreptitiously as he would usually do, he shoves his hand directly in his underwear in a manner distinctly boorish. Notably he also plods around his underpants with his dominant hand, the same one that only just left the frat’s collection of their dirtiest tops, bottoms, and drawers.

Stained hand now touching his cock he is overwhelmed with the desire to never remove it from this spot again. Drool still pooling in his mouth, Robin almost forgets his surroundings as cock seems more impressive than it’s ever been before now. Or no, his hand seems larger, rougher, more powerful. He squints as the seconds pass and the sensations continue to shift before he looks down to find that his bulge is indeed larger than he has ever seen it. Biting his lip he glances at the door and, demonstrating his clearly fading rationality, decides ‘fuck it’ and pulls out his cock.

Haloed with pubes that are growing thicker, spreading further, with each quivering breath and graced touch from his stained hand. Pre drips from the head of his thicker cock as it stands high, beginning to rival the length of his forearm as it inches longer with each heartbeat, each uncontrollable pulse. He cups his balls to remove them from his underwear and is again struck dumb. God they’re itchy. 

He scratches at them as his nails almost draw back into his hand, to the eye of an observer they shift from manicured to the deliberately uncared for, dirty nails of a frat bro. Thus he must dig even deeper to satisfy his itching balls as long, thick curls begin to spread across them. Each drag across finds them larger than they were less than a second before. Each mindless scratch they hang lower, stretch his sack larger as his balls begin to rival the size of eggs and churn to fill him with hormones that will make it all the harder for him to think his way out of this, or any, room. 

Despite his mind awash, feeling his hand begin to mindlessly move to start masturbating in this frat’s laundry room he regains his senses. Fear suddenly overwhelms his lusts and need for pleasure as he tries to inspect his body. Looking down at his hands he finds they both have changed and the horrors have not stopped there. Thick dark hair and a haphazard tan have spread up his forearms and as he feels heat begin to burn on his bicep it’s clear this is a situation still ongoing. Robin struggles to stand and falls over on his face, squarely landing in some brute’s discarded briefs. Fighting back a smirk as he is inoculated with a direct dose of his frat brother’s musk, Robin rolls over in fear of the changes that must be about to begin on his face.

His nose adjusts as memories of breaking it twice assert themselves into his mind. Rob feels his biceps bulge against his forearms as he raises his hands to his face. Grunting and ignoring how much deeper his voice is as it echoes in the room, he talks to himself to begin his flight, “Mrgh, I gotta, get out of here.” Trying to pull his pants up, before they can even struggle to cover his monumental bulge and increasingly cushioned ass, his jeans are caught on his thighs. Muscle and fat press larger as they become two massive meaty trunks. Dropping the pants to inspect his suddenly impressive legs he flexes them and goes weak at the knees as desire tries to take over once more. 

Rob only just fights these rising instincts and makes for the door. Then does he find the most clearly sinister aspect of this situation yet, it’s locked. His uhh, boy? His bro. Yeah his bro trapped him in here. Fuckin’ Carlos did this to him on purpose he bets. Leaning against the door he finds his breathing suddenly inhibited by the tight shirt that he’s been wearing. Seeing his waist has apparently filled out, his stomach quivers with butterflies. He’s always been envious of his bro’s forms but man he looks just as killer huhuh. His widening upper body sends tears through the shirt without his hands even needing to tear the top off. 

Dressed in nothing but torn shreds on the floor of the, er his, frat’s laundry room Rob’s clouded mind observes the final touches of his new form. Weighty pecs pulse larger and hang over his new thick torso. Hamhock thighs frame a bulge that would make any mouth water. He scratches stubble growing thicker on his face while he begins to thoughtlessly masturbate against the laundry room door. Stretching his neck as it thickens to hold up a head growing thicker and mind growing duller, his mouth falls open and he appreciates the musk of his bros as if it's the most pleasant thing in the world to him. Were this the rest of his life the horny bro wouldn’t mind. Rubbing his torso as thick curls begin to decorate him like a beast. Treasure trail stretching from pubes thicker than foliage. He raises his free arm to bathe in his own musk.

His mouth waters as he realizes he doesn’t need to use these other’s fucker clothes to get off! He’s got the sweet stuff right here. Any shreds remaining of the prudish, frat-phobic teacher’s assistant vacate as he delights in his own pit. Thickening curls spread outward from deep in his pits as a truly voluminous mass begins to press out from under his arms. His tongue stretches out from his mouth into the jungle as it grows thicker, perpetually soaked in his new musk. And then Rob loses control. Decorating the walls and himself and finally adding his own mess to their little ode to locker rooms everywhere. 

Tongue out enjoying himself in what is apparently his new home, sweat begins to pool under the man’s discovery of new delights. It seems like forever for him but in reality, a few minutes later he feels the door push into him, “Yooo bro what’s takin’ you so long?” Carlos opens the door and pinches his nose to avoid the stink of the room and the overpowering scent of Rob’s first time.

 Rob’s dumb smirk and glazed eyes meet Carlos’ mischievous grin and the new brother speaks in his new bass, “Uhhh, didn’t you lock me in here bro?” His brother stifles laughter and ruffles Rob’s sweaty new haircut, “You dumbass huhuh- It’s a pull door.” It takes a few seconds for Carlos’ words to sink in but after realizing that he simply forgot how doors work he joins in laughing loud enough to shake the foundations of their frat house. “Brooo huhuh!” 

“Now throw something on so we can figure this shit out!” Rob goes to grab clothes from some stray hamper filled with someone’s dirty laundry and heads out. Walking out of his musky captivity, Rob finds a new warmth fill him as he wanders into the house, into his house. The frat didn’t quite need a new member but Carlos is more than happy to make the most out of his new brother. Not all of them are so unabashedly into their own musk but judging by Rob’s changes and the already returning erection in his shorts, Carlos can’t wait to see what the two of them will get up to in their new lives together.

[butterymangowrites]

dad thief

paring: dabi / todoroki touya x fem reader

warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, cum eating, creampie, childhood friends to enemies to whatever this is, obsessive dabi, possessive dabi, jealousy, non-con filming, blackmail, endeavor is a shitty dad but you both have daddy issues, child abuse, domestic violence, hate sex

word count: 2.5k

Even captured by one of the most dangerous villains in Japan, you still had the audacity to smirk. He wanted so much to wipe it off your face, make you sullen, make you regret. You had always been a pain in the ass, a bitch, and a dad thief.

—

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. 

What Touya saw was you, a girl his age whom he had been friends with for a while now, wearing an Endeavor’s T-shirt two times your size. “That’s my dad on your shirt.”

“I know.” You smirked, didn’t tell him you stole it from someone, just like all the merches you had at home because you couldn’t afford to buy one. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Having a fire quirk, you related so much to the number 2 hero. Meeting Touya was the best coincidence you could ever hope for.

But Touya hated it, your quirk was powerful, not more than his, but so much more stable. At Least you didn’t get burnt every time you tried to use it. His dad looked at you like you were a gift from God, given to him to replace his own incompetent children. You had become Endeavor’s favorite in such a short time. 

—

“So you’re still my dad’s simp,” the white haired villain said, looking at you from an old couch where he lay down, shirtless, his torso patched up with staples holding burnt skins to the body so they didn’t fall off. He looked like a doll that the owner didn’t want to throw away and chose to keep repairing. 

“Rich coming from someone with daddy issues.” Standing at his feet, you peered down at him. He had changed a lot, appearance-wise. Half of his face was burnt and stapled just like his body. With black hair, piercings, and impassive demeanor, he became someone else entirely, fooling everyone even his own family—he became Dabi. But those eyes, those were Touya’s eyes. “That was a desperate act back there, airing the plot twist on tv and shit.” 

It was amazing how quickly you got on his nerves. Dabi pounced from the couch and grabbed you by the neckline of your hero costume. You staggered forward from his pull but let him drag you to the couch and down onto him who now had his head back on the armrest. His hands adjusted your legs to straddle his waist, positioning you to his heart’s content. Your skin-tight suit was for sure fireproof; yet, you still felt heat emitted from the bare skin of Dabi’s naked torso. 

Seeing him face to face this close, you couldn’t help but tease your childhood friend a tad. “Fuck, you’re ugly. No wonder your dad didn’t remember you.” 

“This mouth of yours,” Dabi tsked, placing his index finger on your hot lips, “fucking needs to be shut.” 

He lifted the finger from your lips to point to the opposite side of the couch where a TV should be if there was one. Instead, there was a camcorder set up on a tripod, an ominous red dot blinking rhythmically. 

“It’s recording us,” Dabi said. “I’m gonna fuck you on it.” 

“Tsk, tsk. What happened to dates and dinners?”

His expression shifted dangerously. And you yelped, loud, when he suddenly snaked his hand around to unzip your suit from the back. 

“Touya, knock it off!” You swatted his hand. But too late, you already felt the suit loosen. 

“As I was saying,” Dabi continued, “I’m gonna film us fuck.” 

Heat crawled onto your back when he slipped his hand under the open suit and started to skim around. 

“But since I’m a generous man, I’m giving you two choices.” He tapped on your back once before saying, “Be a good girl and I’m keeping the footage”—he tapped twice—“or not, and I’m sending it to Endeavor’s office so he can see his favorite intern getting dicked up, down, six ways to Sunday by his eldest son.” 

His body heated up a little more; you knew it was from excitement. 

“Do you think you’ll still be his favorite after that? I don’t think so if you asked me.” 

You were… speechless.  

“Come on, am I really ugly?” He nudged his face against yours, which was so Touya of him. “I’ve heard people say I’m still hot, baby.” 

“Yeah, hot like the fire that burnt you this bad,” you countered.

He guffawed. “So, what will it be?” 

You thought about burning him, burning this whole place down, but your flame was no match for his. Having experienced what he could do firsthand on the battlefield, you would not withstand his flame—you would die. 

Contrary to his belief, you were not Endeavor’s favorite. That spot belonged to Shoto since the day he was born. Touya was just dumb and blinded by jealousy and prejudice to actually see it. You were nothing compared to Shoto—you and Touya were nothing compared to the half-hot half-cold prodigy. But Touya was not totally wrong, you still wanted to be his dad’s number 1, not wanting to disappoint the only man you considered a father figure.

But fuck if you didn’t hate Touya. “I’m not choosing shit.”

So he chose for you, tongue plunging down your throat while his cock drove in and out of your cunt. Standing in front of the camera, Touya stood behind you with his scarred arms around your midsection, forcing your whole body tight against him. Every short thrust made your breasts jiggle and eyes roll. The camcorder got it all—the visual, the sound. Even with Touya’s kiss shutting you up, you weren’t really silenced. And without it, you were loud. 

“Fuck baby, you like it that much?”

You would have closed your mouth if your hands weren’t stuck in his suffocating embrace. “Not—that good.”

Touya chuckled. “Yeah?”

He quickened the pace, and your brain almost shut itself down. 

“Stop,” you cried, legs starting to shake. That was when he really stopped. That dickhole.  

“This is what bad girls get.” He said, withdrawing his cock but still not releasing you from his clasp. When he walked back to the couch, he hauled you with him like a child hauling a big bag of toys to his secret lair. 

Guiding you to sit on him—again—you still faced the camcorder. 

“Dad, are you watching? Look at me. Am I doing good?” One of his hands mapped a path up to fondle your tits, switching left and right to pay his utmost attention into making you squirm out of your human seat. 

But he didn’t plan to let you go. His other free hand jerked his cock once, twice, before rubbing it on your still-wet pussy. No one was gonna believe you did not want this. Endeavor would not. 

“Have you fucked her yet? Do you want to?” He grinned against your temple. 

You swore out a soft ‘fuck’ when his cock eased its way in. It was burnt, too. Not as bad that it had to be patched up, but you could feel the bumpy texture against your moist walls.

“You know my dad is an abusive bastard, right? Fucking neglecting his own wife and children. He beat mom, too, have you heard? Did he have the guts to tell you that?” he said, tilting your head up so you could see him looking down at you. You were so hot he prayed his dad hadn’t touched you, he might never let him, too good of a pussy to share. 

“He’s not a good replacement for your scumbag of a father, trust me.” 

—

“I can do that, too,” you said from behind the bush you had been hiding, starling the boy you directed the sentence to. He jumped. You laughed. You had been watching him practice for almost half an hour. He looked sort of tired now. 

“Look,” you said before doing the same trick you saw him do, making a flame dance on one hand and moving it to the other hand like you were juggling a ball. 

He frowned, not looking very impressed, but didn’t take his eyes off you. 

That was the first day you met Touya—making friends with him—and after that, coming out to meet him almost every day. Soon after, you got to meet his family. Your eyes almost bugged out of their sockets when you saw who his dad was. 

The big man spared you only a glance when Touya first introduced you to him. The second glance, however, came after Touya said you had a fire quirk. 

Shoto was only two at the time, too young for his dad’s intensive training. 

Two years later, when Endeavor asked if you wanted to train with his youngest who had just turned four and you said yes, Touya didn’t talk to you for three days. On the fourth day, he didn’t let you in when you rang the doorbell. 

“Go away, dad thief.” 

But you didn’t want to. The Todoroki house was your paradise, the highlight of your day. Since Touya brought you to his home, you had been here everyday, spending your weekdays’ after-school time and whole days on weekends playing with the Todoroki siblings—Fuyumi, Natsuo and Touya himself if he wasn’t a bitch, complaining that his sister and brother hogged you all for themselves, and leaving dramatically to play alone, expecting you to follow. 

He was possessive like that. One time, he locked you in a room to only play with him. Rei—his mom—had to use a spare key to unlock the room and scolded her eldest. 

Now, the table had turned. Since your weekdays’ playtime had turned into training sessions, Touya was shunning you. 

“Go back to your shitty father,” he said through the crack of the side door before slamming it to your face. 

He played dirty mentioning your dad like that when he was the one who followed you to your ratty excuse of a home one day and saw your dad slap you on the face for no reason. It was a low blow since he was the one who interfered just before your dad used his fire quirk on you and your mother who was trying to shield you from the oncoming flame. Despite being the one who helped you that day, he used the fact that you had one of the worst dads a child could ever ask for to hurt you. You hated him so damn much for that. 

“Just you wait, Touya. One day, I’ll really steal him from you,” you said to the closed door, knowing he was still behind it. Tears were flowing down your face, but it was alright because Touya would not see them—because he would not open the door for you, and you resented him for it. 

How… wrong you were. 

“No.” 

Just when you walked back to the hand-me-down bicycle you got from the person you were most angry at at the moment—he was kind for that; you had to admit—you heard him before you heard the door open. Wiping the tears off your face, you turned to him and haughtily asked, “No what?” 

Touya didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto your shirt. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“That’s my dad on your shirt.” 

“I know.” You smirked. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Touya scrunched his nose, his hair that used to be red at the ends was now full white. Then all of a sudden, he jumped you. 

You shrieked. It must have been a jaw-dropping scene for a passerby if there had been one—two 12-year-old children grabbing each other’s hair on the floor, fighting with their little hands. 

“Get off me!!” you screamed, but Touya who successfully got on top of you just laughed maniacally. Looking back, he sounded a bit too psychotic for a child. 

He shouted into your ear, “Dad is mine! Dad is mine!” 

From the corner of your eyes, you saw someone’s feet. 

“Touya-nii! Stop!” It was Fuyumi. “Mom, help!” 

The hands in your hair didn’t relent one bit despite the call for an adult who was soon surely going to rip his ears off if he didn’t get off you, but he did quiet down. 

“You’re mine, too,” he said softly into the ear he was shouting into before. “Dad’s not home today. Let’s play. You and me, okay? No Fuyumi-chan and Natsuo-kun. Just you and me.” 

The next thing you knew, he was pulled off you by his mother. Touya didn’t shed a tear when Rei spanked him in the ass, asking why he did that to you. She told him to apologize. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You knew he wasn’t. But he sounded genuine enough Rei let him off with only a one-week-no-tv punishment.

—

To you, he had been… off since that day. Today, he was full-blown unhinged. 

Your legs were spread wide over his own open ones, basically preventing you from trying to close them and hide your fucked pussy from the camcorder. His hands were busy, one grasping at your waist for leverage while the other circling over your clit. You were all bare to the camera with Touya’s cock ramming in and out, concentration drifting like smoke in the wind, so close to coming. 

“Such a good cunt. I’ll fuck it everyday”—he panted—“come in it. You can count on me.” 

“Don’t—” 

“I’ll be a good boyfriend. Will never fucking stray,” he prattled on. “Won’t hit you. Won’t be like dad. You’ll see.” 

You tried to hold it, but the hand on your clit just didn’t stop, pushing you to the top and making your hips buck up uncontrollably Touya had to push you down so his dick didn’t slip out. You felt the throbbing when he spilled inside. The little shit really did it—he creamed your pussy. 

“Want a taste?” Touya proposed, his hands spreading and closing your pussy to see the white thick cream dripping out. 

“Don’t be disgusting.” 

“Bet you drink his cum just to please him.” 

“I never fucked your dad, you villain scum.” 

“Mmmm.” You turned your head just in time to see Touya licking his fingers clean. When he saw you look, the menace put his tongue out to show his own cum on it. You knew what he would do next without a word being said and tried to turn away, but Touya grabbed your cheeks, stilling you, then he squeezed to force your mouth open.

His tongue invaded, feeding you his cum, and ending with a kiss. He took his time, like he had a lot on his hands, making sure you swallowed every drop. 

“Not even sucking his dick?” He continued questioning you. 

“No, you sicko.” You felt your body temperature rising, quirk activating, but didn’t let the fire come out. 

“Bet you thought about it, dad thief.” 

“Bet YOU thought about it, obsessive patchy bitch.” 

He laughed with his whole chest, shaking your whole body with it. “Guess we both ain’t shit, baby.”

[solbaby7]

Az is so🤤🤤 toxic men in real life repulsive me but Az does it soooo well.

Can you do a slutatious reader meets possessive Az?

Like he refuses to make it official so she continues about her life and he stay hearing rumors about her activities. He doesn’t want to be another fuck buddy but he’s also holding back from her and that pisses her off and encourages her to continue w her endeavors.

I’m talking screaming fighting throwing shit toxic🤭

i love your work mamita, I’ll read ur fics all day😩🤧

Maneater

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: toxic relationships, possessive!az, promiscuous girl, swearing, sexual themes, lemme just say thank god for this request, probably typos

—

“You’re not wearing that.”

“And who’s going to stop me?” The retort comes easily, all too familiar with this dance. You continue as if he’s not there, staring at the material that molds to your curves like second skin. The entire back is out, the sultry swoop accentuating the fullness of your ass even if the front was fairly tame. Curled hair is flicked over your shoulder, lashes flirty and lips glossy as you reach for your clutch.

A shadow beats you to it, sliding the clutch just out of your reach and a slightly agitated smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you turn to face him. “I mean it. If that’s what you’re wearing, then you aren’t going.”

A brow raises, eyes taking in the perfect structure of Azriel’s face, the strong neckline and tattoos that crept up the left side. Rippling muscles strain against the black top; a pleasant contrast from his usual leathers and you nearly forget his audacity when appreciating his physique. “You must have the wrong room, Az.” You can’t help yourself but to touch, two manicured fingers dragging down the middle of his abdomen. Nails catch on the belt holding his breeches in place and the teasing tug has his pupils dilating. “Possibly confused me with one of those simpering females with damsel in distress tendencies? The ones who actually allow the tone you’re taking with me right now. ”

“I know exactly whose room I’m in,” Unashamed possessiveness radiates from every word and the step he takes to close the distance has an annoying effect on your body. “Just like I know exactly who won’t be leaving it if you don’t walk back over to that closet and change.”

“I have no reason to listen to you,” Azriel refused to admit it out loud, but he secretly loved this part—the pushback. The flirtatious flutter of your lashes and the seductive scent lacing every inch of glistening skin. “You have no claim over me. I’m a free female,” You know exactly what you’re doing; goading him with the same implications of the relationship that you and Azriel had been dancing around for the better part of a decade. It could’ve been different, could’ve spent more time making love rather than hate fucking against any sturdy surface after the shadowsingers jealousy had gotten the best of him after hearing yet another rumor about your latest conquest. “Free to do whom and whatever I please.”

He’s too good at feigning restraint when he truly was grappling for purchase; falling victim to such feminine curves and unwavering confidence. You peered up at him without fear, heart rate steady in his presence and he just barely catches the slightest hitch of your breath when Azriel’s hand wander up the bodice of the dress. Familiar fingers brush over the thick of your thighs, up the soft curve of your belly, taking special time over supple breasts and peaked nipples. Foolishly, you lean into the touch, goosebumps beginning to dot at your spine when the fabric rips in two. “It’s adorable that you believe that.” He doesn’t acknowledge your surprised expression, hands hovering over the ruined material as if it would magically sew back together. “Don’t ever make me repeat myself again.”

“You just—“

“I will see you there—in something much more appropriate, I’m sure.”

Azriel’s gone before you can respond, a humorless laugh passing glossy lips as you shuck off the remnants of your dress. High heels stomp against hardwood floors as you make your way to the closet, ripping through shades of deep navy’s and obsidian until your sights set on a sexy little number saved for special occasions.

A sinister smirk forms as you slip into it, eyes almost sparkling as you regard yourself in the full length mirror.

The halter neckline crosses at the chest, cupping cleavage with ease as the intricate golden bustier cinches at your sides, creating the illusion of wider hips and ensures nothing less than an elegant posture when you stride inside. Soft silks and chiffon kisses at the length of your legs, grazing over painted toes in painfully high heels but it pulls the attention you were searching for. Necks craning and hungry eyes eat up every dip and curve of your figure, mouths salivating at the liquid gold that pushes up the weight of your breasts. “You’re late,” Rhysand voice murmurs in your mind, utter boredom creeping into his every feature.

Your eyes slide to Azriel when you answer, anticipation buzzing beneath the surface of your body. “Wardrobe malfunction.”

To anyone else, the shadowsinger would appear to be the embodiment of stoicism.

But you knew that hard line of his shoulders, the barely restrained tick of his jaw, the slight flexing of his fingers around the thick arms crossed over his chest. The firelight crackles around him, golden light casting perfect shadows that nearly blend seamlessly to the ones that sang to him. With each step closer to the dias, those shadows grow more agitated, wiggling restlessly at Azriel’s feet, stretching up the length of his back to whisper in his ear.

You play coy too well, nodding respectfully to the High Lord and Lady before taking your place but those shadows shove you in closer. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Azriel’s towering form, the wings held high behind him subconsciously tucking you out of view. “Appropriate enough for you?”

“You are the most stubborn female I have ever met in my entire life.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you’d just admit it.”

He pretends not to care, masking desperate glances with hardened side eyes. The grip on his crossed arms gets tighter, barely refraining from the urge to drag you away from all the eyes greedily eating up your form as if it were a six-course meal with desserts on the side. “Admit what?”

“That you want me.”

That you love me the same way I love you.

That you don’t want it to just be a game anymore either.

Azriel doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even look your way but the sneer that curls at the edge of his perfect mouth was enough to have your confidence faltering. “I have better things to do with my time than chase after some harlot.”

Your brows snap up, nearly blending in with the seam of your hairline. He regrets every word when the teasing spark fades from your eye. Taking a sizable step away from him, your face goes hard like steel, nose scrunching with barely concealed humiliation and your teeth bare like a wild animal when Azriel reaches out to touch. “Don’t,” Angry tears make your eyes go glassy but not once does your voice waver. “Just stay the hell away from me.”

Rhys had already dismissed the others, waving a lazy hand and music fills the space. The strong smell of food permeating the air and you’re quick to blend into the gathering crowd, making a beeline for the elegant champagne pyramid tucked on the other side of the room.

Your hands shake when you grab the first glass, taking it back more like a shot than a classy sip of the flute but you just needed your hands to stop shaking—your heart to stop racing. One drink quickly turns to three and you’re well on your way to a fourth when a hand curls around your shoulder. “Fueling up for me?” The familiar drawl of Autumn’s first born heir reaches your ear, halting your display of gluttony.

This was why you were here—in Hewn City, prancing about the Court of Nightmares. Acting as a pretty faced guide the Night Court provided as light entertainment before Eris would be escorted off to the private meeting room two halls down. You’d amuse a few dances, allow him to talk your ear off and pretend you don’t notice his fingers inching down the curve of your spine. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world to prepare me for you, Vanserra.”

His brow raises, a sly smirk growing as the lights from the iron-wrought chandeliers casted their shadows against the burnt copper of his hair. Warm eyes trail down the length of your form, a single finger twitching when taking in intricate details of your gold bodice; the rich fabric that was so dark it almost seemed blue in certain light. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No, I’m just hot and talking.”

Eris is just as bold as you remember, laughing softly under your breath at his proximity when you’ve turned around for another glass but a quick hand has swiped it from your grasp before a single drop can coat your tongue. “You’re testy tonight.” You can feel the cool caress of Az’s shadows curling around your ankle, a silent claim that has your teeth gritting against each other.

For once, you amuse the Autumn heir and his playful fire, dancing into the thick of his flame when you allow him to finish your drink and guide you to the dance floor with the others. “I double booked,” You lie easily, following his lead effortlessly as if you didn’t feel that cool wisp of a shadow steadily clamping tighter against your ankle. Low chatter blocks out the ability for others to eavesdrop but you can feel those golden eyes burning holes into the side of your face—to the bare strip of skin at your hip where Eris’ hand rested for the entire duration of the dance. “Can’t help the attitude that lingers knowing that I have to spend my night prattling about with you when I could’ve been indulging in multiple orgasms.”

A laugh that’s smooth like whiskey escapes Eris, a hint of a dimple forming on his left cheek and you hate that you notice the perfect lines of his teeth; his bottom lip that was fuller than the top, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose indicating it’d definitely been broken at least once in his life. “There’s ample time before my meeting if you’d like to have your cake and eat it too.”

“Maybe I’d agree,” You make a show out of examining him, subtly inhaling the spice of his cologne. Handsome but not Azriel. “If the ‘cake’ was a different flavor.”

Eris doesn’t falter for a second, even with the entirety of your Inner Circle’s attention fixed on him and the hands he had on your body. The deep baritone of his voice rumbles against your chest, nipples pebbling at the sensation. “Close your eyes then,” Words whisper at the lobe of your ear and the glittering jewel poked through it. “You can pretend I’m whoever you want with my tongue between your thighs.”

A witty remark crawls to the tip of your tongue, readying itself to leap off when that ghost chain around your leg pulls taut. There’s only enough time for your eyes to widen before you’re tugged away from Eris like a dog on a leash. It leads you out of the room and into the hall, refusing to loosen even a touch when you stubbornly resist but there’s no point when you’re cloaked in shadows. You barely notice the scenery change before you’re back at home and tossed over a shoulder. “You stupid, brutish, ape of a male!” Your shouts echo through the empty halls, bouncing off closed doors as Azriel strides through the foyer like he was on a mission. “Put me down right now!” Every word is coupled with the palms of your hands slapping at his thighs and digging into the back of his knees. One hand cranes back to dig into the thick of his hair and tug—hard.

Azriel’s hand is harder though, pure heat burning against the skin of your ass when it connects with a deafening clap. “Shut up.”

Your jostled back into place, cheeks warm and hands frozen where they’re bunched in the fine material of his dress shirt. “Az—“

His hand comes down once more and this time you yelp, teeth biting into the fat of your bottom lip as he clears the stairs and makes a sharp left. “I told you to shut up.”

Every bone in your body screams for you to comply, primal instincts igniting deep within advising you take the route of self-preservation but your pride overrides better judgement. “And I told you, I’m a free female. Let me go, right now!” You squirm once more, legs kicking and arms clawing for release when you’re roughly thrown off his shoulder and shoved into the wall in a motion so fluid it takes the air from your lungs.

Fuck your pride for letting her mouth write checks your ass couldn’t cash.

You’d never seen such darkness in such a vast sea of gold, the whole pupil of Azriel’s eyes blown out like a feral animal salivating at the mouth. “Do you feel like a free female right now?” He already knows the answer judging by the pleased smirk beginning to creep in the corner of his mouth at the sight of his shadows holding your hands in place.

You swallow thickly, annoyingly affected by his closeness and the hard bulge that throbs at your belly when he curls a hand around your neck, nose brushing your own. “I certainly don’t feel like I belong to you.”

“I can fix that.” It’s a promise. One you silently scold yourself for praying that it’s a promise he makes good on.

The Mother has favorites and tonight you must be one of them.

The kiss Azriel initiates is nothing short of brutal; the drag of his tongue across the seam of your lips his only kindness before gaining access and completely dominating from the inside out. Every touch is claiming; a strong hand calloused from centuries of skilled swordplay is generous when easing off the expensive gold bodice before the delicate fabric beneath is torn to shreds. Pretty strips of dark material spills to the floor, left for the house to clean as your thighs are gripped and your weight is hoisted up, legs cradling the muscular taper of Azriel’s waist.

He’s sucking marks into your neck, back pressed against the wall as his teeth graze at the sensitive skin there. Breasts spill from the confines of your bra, straps eased down your shoulders to make more room for his mouth to lay claim to. Azriel pinches at your nipples, eating up every sound like it’s offered on a platter. “Those noises sound like you belong to me.” Every nerve burns where he touches, marring your flesh and branding his mark as arousal collects in your underthings.

“Azriel,” You pant, trying to clear the fog of your brain but he’s all consuming; refusing to allow you air if it’s not the same one he breathes.

The flimsy underwear is pushed aside, familiar fingers collecting the slick gathering between your legs and a cruel smile grows on his face. “It certainly feels like you belong to me.” A thumb pressed firmly on the stiff bud of your clit, rubbing slow circles that has your toes curling. A thump sounds from where your head falls back to the ball, exposing the line of your neck and the dark purple bruises smattered along it. Your eyes close for a second, breath labored and mouth salivating from the promise of more but all that changes when his hands bunch up the elegant curl of your hair. He wraps it around like a leash, forcing you to look him in the eye and the rasp of his voice is devastating. “So why the fuck can’t you get it through your pretty head, huh?”

It’s a rhetorical question, that much you gather when he moulds his mouth to yours before you can even begin to muster up an answer. You’re boneless in his grasp, allowing him to take you to his room and share his sheets. The bedside table screeches when Azriel’s boot kicks at it, knocking over lamps and light bulbs shatter on the hardwood. He doesn’t even flinch, glass crunching under the soles of his shoes that he kicks off as he eases you down. “Az,” Insecurity threatens to rear her ugly head and ruin the moment, trying to push forth his hurtful words and the years of dancing around this feeling but Azriel’s already there to push that away. “Are you sure you even want to?”

“You belong to me,” He says and it’s final. Offering up the keys to the locked box filled with everything you’d dreamed about when you closed your eyes and wished on falling stars every year. Off goes his shirt and shortly his pants follow, dragging his underwear along with it and you can’t fight the moan when all of that bare skin is exposed and hovering above you. “Say it,” He urges, the hard length of him slotting between spread legs, grinding against warm need until you’re keening soft pleas into his chest, heels digging into his back.

The intrusion makes you gasp, hands greedy and mouth glued to his while he fucked into you like he always did. It’s a demanding pace; forcing you to take all of him while he watched you lose all your composure—all that beautiful fight that drew him to you in the first place. Az doesn’t stop, spurred on by strangled moans and choked words garbled together begging for more of him; harder, faster, deeper. Your clenching around him when the words stutter out of you in a whisper. “I belong to you.”

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Power Imbalance, Mind Control

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yandere!Zhongli, despite his nature as the Archon of Geo, isn't as restrictive as one might think at first. Quite the opposite, actually. He'll say it himself, as he forces you to stay still in his strong arms, trapped inside his Adeptal Domain. He wishes he could give you more privileges, but he simply can't trust you.

Of course, you press him about this, you say he can trust you. With no other option but to fight for any scraps of freedom you can get, you're willing to grovel on your knees for anything, as much as you hate yourself for doing so.

At the sight of your desperation, Zhongli has to mask the way the corners of his lips twitch up, eyes predatory, draconic instinct seeping through a human facade. With the flick of a hand, a thick roll of paper pops into existence in front of your head. The very end of it unfurls, revealing what looks like a place where a signature is written.

For a contract.

Sign it, Zhongli says, and he will grant you multiple privileges listed in the contract: he'll allow you to leave his Adeptal Domain when possible, write to your family and friends, leave you alone for a set time if you so desire, and more listed in the contract.

Your hand itches for the crystalline, amber pen floating next to the contract, beckoning you to write your name, but you control the urge. You've already been played for a fool by a foe you once called a friend, and you won't fall for his foul ploys any longer.

So, you pull the contract to unfurl it. The paper flows like water, gushing across the floor like a wild stream down the bed to the floor, across the bedroom, through the door, into the kitchen, continuing on, and on, and on. It seems like days go by until finally, the contract is fully unscrolled.

Zhongli is less than pleased at your wariness, a disappointed sigh echoing through the still room. He had hoped you would be less uncooperative, but he will allow you a day to read the contents of the contract. After all, time is of the utmost importance, even for the immortal.

You glare at the god, but know that you cannot allow anger to cloud your mind. With only a day to read such a dense document, there's no time to spare.

When you look down to start reading the contract itself, though, your eyes widen in confusion.

The words on the paper are almost kaleidoscopic, warping and twisting and forming new phrases every second. One moment, you think you can read "the"; the next, those same letters have become "remain". Looking back up, Zhongli has a pitying smile on his face. "Dearest treasure, do you see now that this game is a fruitless endeavor?" He asks, a hand reaching to brush against your jaw, sliding tenderly across your skin. "I would not lie to you about these things. I have never lied to you," he says.

For a moment, you almost mistake his tone as kind, like you almost mistook everything about Zhongli—a polite, cultured gentleman who turned out to be a possessive, obsessed dragon—until you realize how patronizing his words are. You want to curse him to the Abyss and back, but hold back your hatred. "I'd prefer to read the contract." You look back down, and begin attempting to decipher the undulating paragraphs.

Hours pass by, and you've made no progress. Through it all, Zhongli has stayed by your side, whispering cloying words in an attempt at disarming your defenses. You've managed to stay strong in the face of his unending patience though.

But while you're smart, Zhongli is a god, with thousands of years of knowledge ingrained in his mind. And he knows eventually, one argument will break you down. So, he keeps trying.

"Time is running out, my sweet. But before this offer disappears, I will give you one last chance to sign," he says. "Besides, even if I am being dishonest about the contents of the contract, can things really get worse than this? At least by signing the contract, there's a chance your circumstances may improve."

His logic is sound, drowning out the dissonant thoughts scrambling your mind. You hate the idea of agreeing with Zhongli, but at this point, it's hard to see a reason not to sign it.

With trembling fingers, you pick up the pen. It's slightly warm in your hand, the way a rock in the afternoon sun would be. Smiling like he knew this would happen all along, Zhongli makes a motion with one hand, causing the contract to begin rolling up. After waiting several moments, all that's left unrolled is the space where you will sign your name.

The pen slashes against the paper, marring it with an ink-black scar that reads your name.

Then you feel it. The lightness in your chest, as though you're untethered to the world around you. Thoughts in your mind begin to pop like soap bubbles, fear dissipating into pure nothingness. You can hardly hear your spouse chuckling over the absolute blankness blanketing your mind.

Yes, Zhongli would allow you many more freedoms now. After all, you had sold your mind, body, and soul to him. Escape was impossible. You were clay in his hands, and he would mold you into a perfect, obedient lover.

[vitalverstappen]

The Tortured Poets Department - D. Ricciardo

summary: snapshots of your relationship with Danny

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader

warnings: smoking, anxiety, self sabotage

word count: 1.6k

a/n: writing is quite literally the only thing getting me through the danny news so enjoy!

masterlist

the tortured drivers' department masterlist

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Daniel was into the arts. He constantly had a camera in his hands, he had a .jpeg account, and his favorite dates were always to the local art museum. So it was no surprise that when you first started dating, he started to dabble in writing. What did puzzle you was the fact he bought a typewriter for his endeavors. And that he had a habit of leaving it at your apartment. 

“I don’t understand how you keep forgetting this thing. It’s huge” You joked as you flipped your phone camera to show the machine that was collecting dust on your kitchen table. As much as you loved him, you’d never understand why he chose such an antiquated way of putting his stories to life. 

“I left it there again?” He asked “Maybe I should just keep it there. We could start a club: The Tortured Poets Department” 

“Yeah, good luck with that” You said, a smirk plastered on your face. 

The next Grand Prix came quicker than you would’ve liked. You loved watching the race, and loved seeing Danny do what he loves, but you hated that he always ended up self sabotaging. It didn’t matter if it was a race win or if he came in last. He always found something to be upset about.

A frown was plastered on his face as he climbed out of the car. He had gotten fourth, so you would think there was nothing to be upset about, but that’s not how Daniel operates. You were easily able to decode that the finish meant he was either upset that he didn’t get on the podium, or that he didn’t think he deserved to be that high. 

“There is no way I actually got P4.” He began 

“I don’t deserve that” The two of you said in sync, a playfully mocking tone in your voice. You already knew how this was going to play out, as if it was a show you had watched countless times. You had the dialogue memorized.

A sigh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, your tone becoming more serious, “Yes you do, love. You deserve that and the whole world.”

“You really mean that?” He asked as he pulled away from you, his arms still at your waist.

“Yes, I fully mean that. You’ve hauled that tractor of a car all the way to fourth. You have incredible talent behind the wheel.” You reassured him. 

That night, the two of you returned home to Monaco, where you had a nice, relaxing evening of listening to your favorite songs, smoking, and going through the F1 gossip blogs. It was a guilty pleasure, hearing what everyone had to say about you two. Both you and Daniel didn’t care how everyone felt about you two. If anything, it was funny seeing how wrong the internet was about everything that happened behind the scenes. 

“‘I think Danny and Y/N should get a dog. They’d be such cute pawrents!’” Daniel read and then glanced over at you, wiggling his eyebrows “Should we?” 

“God no” You laughed “ We can barely take care of ourselves. What makes you think we can take care of a dog?” 

Daniel shrugged “True, we’re not Charles and Alexandra. We’re just two idiots” 

“You’re gonna love this one ‘Rumor has it that Y/N Y/L/N is leaving Daniel for another F1 driver.’” You read off of your phone “And guess what the attached photos were of?” 

“What?” Danny asked as he took a bite of the chocolate bar he had in his hand

You managed to form a smirk with the blunt in your mouth as you tilted the phone for him to see. On the screen was a photo of you in the VCARB garage talking to another man. What the world didn’t know was that the unnamed man was your twin brother. 

“Wow, you and Matthew seem pretty close. I heard he’s into you” Daniel joked as he plucked the blunt from your mouth and putting it in his instead

“Oh shut up” You said, the two of you quickly breaking into laughter

The sound of laughter slowly died down as the album that was currently on the record player ended. The walk over to the dresser was like a minefield littered with empty chocolate wrappers.

“How many of these did you have?” You asked, picking one up

“Seven?” Daniel answered, unsure 

“Oh my god you’re ridiculous” You chuckled as you threw the wrapper at him, nearly hitting him in the face. “What do you wanna listen to next?” 

“Charlie Puth?” Daniel suggested, as he put out the end of the blunt “You know, he should really be a bigger artist” 

You thought about his comment for a second as you put one of his old records on, “Yeah, you don’t hear much about him nowadays”

As you climbed back into bed, Daniel rested his head on your chest. Out of instinct, your right hand began running itself through your boyfriend’s curly hair. He took your left hand and started fiddling with the ring on your middle finger - your mom’s engagement ring. Daniel loved playing with it for some reason, but you never questioned why. 

His chest began to rise and fall slower and slower, the fiddling stopped, and snoring began to fill the room. Never in your life did you imagine having a tattooed golden retriever of a boyfriend, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

But the doubts always crept in, and this night was no different. You were awakened by the feeling of Daniel tossing and turning all night, something clearly bothering him.

“You alright?” You muttered, turning to face him

“Wha? Yeah everything’s fine. Can’t sleep that’s all” Daniel spoke

“You usually sleep really well after a race. Something’s up. Talk to me.”

At this point, the two of you were fully awake and sat up in bed. Like you predicted, worry was spread all over his face. 

A sigh left his lips before Daniel spoke again, “Is this too much for you?” 

“What?” You asked 

“The relationship, the media attention. I know there’s a lot that comes with dating me. The cameras, the rumors, me constantly being away. I know it’s a whirlwind that even I can’t keep up with sometimes. Is this all too much for you?” 

Silence overcame the two of you as you became deep in your thoughts. It was a lot on you, and he knew that. It was always tough being away from each other, and you never thought your relationship would have a magnifying glass focused on it. 

But to you, it was all worth it to be with the one you truly loved. Love was about sacrifices and being there for each other regardless. And that’s what the two of you had done. 

“I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a lot to handle” You began “It’s never easy being away from you, or worrying about your safety every weekend. And the constant comments about us aren’t exactly rainbows and butterflies, but honestly? I don’t want it any other way. I chose to be in this cyclone with you. I wouldn’t want it any other way as long as I have you.”

You could hear Daniel release the breath you didn’t know he was holding, “I love you”

“I love you too” 

The reassurance you gave that night was all Daniel needed. Once summer break arrived, he insisted on taking you to your favorite restaurant; the same one he took you to for your first date. He had managed to get you a secluded table with rose petals covering the cloth. 

“Danny, you didn’t have to do this” You said as he pulled the chair out for you 

“Maybe I wanted to” He said as he pushed you in and then sat across

The night was spent talking about anything and everything, from the first half of the F1 season to reminding Daniel why you refuse to eat pineapple on pizza. As the night continued on, you could tell Daniel was getting more anxious about something, but you couldn’t put a finger on what. 

“You know I love you, right?” Daniel blurted out 

Your eyebrows furrowed “Yeah Dan, I do. And I love you too”

“No, I love you, a lot.” He began as he took your left hand, “More than I thought was ever possible to love somebody. The day I met you I knew I wanted to be a part of your life. I wanted to experience everything that you do. Be there to celebrate your highs and support you through your lows. It has been so much fun getting to live life with you, and I’m so thankful you’ve been doing the same for me.”

Daniel paused as he got up from his seat, his hand still holding yours as he bent down on one knee. As he slid your mom’s engagement ring off of your middle finger, you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. This was happening. This was real life. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, Will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?” Daniel askes 

“Yes Danny. Yes, yes. A thousand times yes!” You answered, the words falling out of your mouth with ease 

As you two returned to your apartment, the same typewriter Danny bought all those years ago greeted you on your dresser. Dust covered each of the keys, but it seemed to shine with a new brightness. There was something about the machine that drew you in. So you sat down, as if you were greeting an old friend, and blew the dust off the rusty keys, ready to join the Tortured Poets Department with Danny. 

[fluff-n-cookies]

Thinking about yandad Dabi and his child who's now around 9-11 years old. Your writing has absolutely captivated me <3

Dabi starts getting more possessive, more protective, and certainly more assertive. He's your dad, after all—you HAVE to listen to him, no? It's too dangerous to go outside without him keeping an eye on you, you're still so tiny and fragile. He'll be damned if his kid steps foot out of the apartment without his say so, no ifs or buts.

After a long day of setting people on fire and committing various crimes, Dabi just wants to scoop you up into a bone-crushing hug and plop down onto the couch to snuggle his baby, paying no mind to your complaints.

While he's soft and affectionate towards you, it's a completely different story when it comes to others. Dabi is ruthless and aggressive, destroying anyone and anything that may try to take you away–much less harm you. It doesn't matter how small, Dabi will turn it into ashes without remorse. If you somehow figure out about his actions and try to make a run for it? He'd be crushed, obviously–Dabi can't stand the thought of you fearing him. Rest assured, he'd track you down and bring you back home, suffering you in cuddles while scolding you. He's your dad–you need to listen to him.

(Btw sorry about how long this became didn't realize I was ranting)

omg hi???? thank you for gracing me with this masterpiece??? wtf???? (lovingly)

For those who don't know, this post is related to these

Pt 1, Pt 2

and this is all so fucking true. I plan on making a longer fic on this (sorry to say that I haven't drafted it yet, I'm working on overhaul posts)

but he's so paranoid, so utterly terrified 24/7, he dead bolts all the doors and windows at night and only lets you go outside between 11 AM and 5PM unless it's for school.

speaking of which, he hates them for giving his baby so much homework and taking away from their time together buuttt he genuinely believes you need to get your education, don't skip out on highschool like he did.

and he does this thing, this god awful thing, after dinner, after your daily shower, and after getting you all nice and snuggly for bed and into your cat pajamas. he'll do this thing where he'll hold you tight to his chest while he flicks through the news channel.

now normally this would be fine, perfectly fine, if I weren't for the fact he either goes to true crime channels where they display the horrific acts of villains (himself included) live. he tells you that the world is a horrifying place, that that's how he burned himself, how painful it was, the scorching flames. he doesn't mean to traumatize you, it's just to warn you!

either that, or he'll go to news channels covering endeavor's problems, scandals, recent missions, interviews. please don't ask who that strange man with eyes like yours is. he'll hold you tighter and say in the lightest voice possible. "he's a bad man, don't you dare go near him, he'll hurt you like he hurt me."

don't say anything else after that.

he's just tired, so tired, and you're there, right when he gets home after running "errands". you're his reminder of what he's working towards, this future with no heroes and no pain that he's trying to build. the revenge he longs for and the aftermath where you thrive. really, you're the reason he gets up in the morning these days, the reason he stopped smoking in the house, the reason why there's no more beer in the fridge, only tenderly made lunches that he makes every Sunday to prepare for the week.

you're like this stress ball, this hit of Serotonin and Dopamine and what not. every time you smile he can feel his heart clenching. when he looks at you, he sees the boy he once used to be, happy. you're so happy, so pure.

he refuses to let you go out much, his reasoning being that the world's a terrible place. when you ask what's his job, what he does at "work" every day, he only chuckles.

"Oh baby, I'm trying to makes this world a better place, my job is to try and stop all the bad things from happening. I'm a type of... Freedom fighter, really."

and he so, so, so so so so so so sweet to you. you have never known Dabi, ruthless arsonist and serial killer. you have never known Touya, a boy lost in his own insanity and deprivation of paternal love. both are vicious, people, downright insane. one's a criminal the other's incapable of ever recovering from his own madness and fury.

the only person you know is your Dad, Dad's a nice guy, he plays doll house and dress up with you and watches cartoons with you every morning before school. he lets you wear his jacket when you're cold and left yours at school in your cubby, and he takes you out for donuts or ice cream monthly. sure, he doesn't have money, he can't buy you that many toys and sometimes they turn the light off because he missed too many bills, but he loves you. that's all you need to know.

Dad is a kind person, he's not Dabi or Touya, he's definitely not a hero. he's your dad.

And Dad does the best job of gas-lighting you to hell and back. you want to go outside after 5 or before 11? welp, he's not coming with you, sorry honey, maybe tomorrow. what do you mean you'll go anyway? the boogeyman'll get you! (it's him, he's the boogeyman, he knows you won't last a second out in the real world with your loving father's help and he's going to exploit it the moment you start to show independence.)

but it's very unlikely that Dabi would ever even get the chance to do this when you're 9-11 years old, you know why? because you'll be in Endeavor's custody by then. I refuse to elaborate since then I'll be spoiling the plot of Part 3 and I don't want that.

P.S. you wanna be tagged?

[oliversrarebooks]

a good grade in being brainwashed: wants and needs

Masterlist > Next

tw: pet whump, bbu-adjacent, dehumanization, conditioning, references to drugging, references to dubcon

He was getting a good grade in being brainwashed, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

"He seems a little clingy, though."

B211's heart sank into his knees. He knew that was one of the absolute worst things a prospective owner could say about him, the very thing his handlers had spent so much time trying to train out of him. Don't cling. Don't be needy. Be affectionate, but only when your owner desires it. Be silent and still and obedient otherwise.

Don't be needy. Don't need. Don't want. Wants are for people. Your only wish is to please your owner.

He didn't miss the nasty glare that the salesman shot him before putting his customer service smile back on his face. "Yes, this one is very affectionate, which isn't to everyone's taste. Perhaps you'd be more interested in this Romantic…"

B211 fought down the whine in his throat as the customer removed her hand from his chin and walked over to one of the other Romantics, A797. He watched as A797 flawlessly executed each position, all with a smile that was just loving enough without seeming desperate. Just the way they'd all been taught.

God, B211 hated him.

B211 knew he could be the best Romantic in this whole damn showroom, if only he could be given a chance. He'd worked so hard at his training and conditioning, absorbing everything thrown at him, always striving to be the best in the room. He knew his quality -- he was eager to please any sort of master in any way they wished, ready and willing to become whatever they wanted him to be. Their lover, their fantasy, their toy, their shoulder to cry on. He was confident he could do it all.

And yet, here he was, left in the lurch yet another day. If things didn't look up, he'd spend another night in his cold bunk. Another night where his training headphones whispered to him about how much he craved touch and affection. Another day where he had to fight down his cravings so he didn't scare off potential owners. Another failure, another denial.

It was enough to make him want to pull his hair out, if that wouldn't absolutely ruin his appeal.

"I think I'm going to talk to your handler about another course of conditioning. I don't know how it's possible, but you've still got too much willfulness in that head of yours."

B211 scrambled down into a kneel, touching his head to the floor, as soon as he realized that the salesman was addressing him. "My sincere apologies, sir. I will endeavor to do better," he said, reciting one of his hundreds of programmed phrases.

"I can tell when a pet's more concerned with his own needs instead of the customer's," said the salesman disdainfully. "Honestly, you could probably do with another round on the Drip, wash that right out of your head. I think that's what I'm gonna recommend."

"Yes, sir," said B211, his inner elbow twinging with the feel of a phantom needle. He knew very well that he should accept whatever medication, training, or punishment he was given, as it was all to make him a better pet. But he hated the way the Drip made him feel, the way his mind was so slow and dim now, compared to --

No, that wasn't right. His mind had always been slow and dim. That's why he was well suited to being a pet. That's what they'd told him, why he'd signed up. He was slow, and dim, and unable to cope with life, unable to pretend to be a person. So he'd done the right thing and signed up. Instead of an endless cycle of pain and disappointment, he'd receive unconditional love and affection from an owner who truly wanted him. All he had to do was follow his training. Simple instructions. Practice these poses. Recite these mantras. Speak politely. Let go of your wants. Let go of your needs. Be perfect.

That was all he had to do.

He didn't actually remember signing up, of course, because the Drip had erased his memories (how many times). It was best for a pet to not remember (what didn't they want him to remember) so he could be blank and empty for his owner to fill with love (what was he before he was blank).

(was he ever loved)

He shouldn't be thinking those thoughts. That's why he wasn't getting bought. Stupid, stupid.

"Well, B211? Do you have a problem with that?" the salesman demanded, pulling him back to reality.

"No, sir."

"Oh, I think you do. I can tell you have something to say. Out with it."

It was a trap. It was always a trap. He'd fallen into it before, he thought, although his memories of those times were hazy and tinged with pain. "I think whatever you and my handler decide for me would be best, sir."

He was being hauled upwards by his shirt, the salesman glaring down at him. "That's your problem. You shouldn't think. You should just get it right."

B211's mind searched for a better answer. Slow, too slow. "I want whatever training I'm given, sir. I want to be the best possible pet for my owner. I trust in my handlers to make me the best pet I can be."

"Better," he sneered.

The ring of a bell indicated another customer had arrived, sparing B211 the salesman's wrath for now. This particular salesman always liked to take it out on the pets when they weren't selling like he thought they should be.

All he wanted was to be touched and loved. Wasn't that what he had signed up for? He couldn't remember, of course, but that's the only thing it could have been. Why didn't anyone see that? Why didn't anyone pick him?

Maybe the salesman was right. Maybe he should go back on the Drip. He was thinking too much. Of course he was right -- his handlers always knew what was best for him.

"Oh, I'm not sure a Romantic is what I'm looking for, exactly," said a voice that was so strangely familiar. "I don't need -- I mean, I don't really have those kinds of needs."

B211 strained to hear the conversation in the other room, beyond the curtain separating the Romantic showroom from the rest of the pet store. That voice. He didn't know why, but wanted to hear more of that voice.

"There are a lot of unfortunate misconceptions about Romantics, and I'd say that the primary one is that they're only for sex," said the salesman. "That's absolutely not the case -- maybe ten years ago, but modern Romantics are so much more. They actually have much of the same programming as our platonic Companions, and even some Domestic capabilities. They're the perfect choice for a busy man who wants a little love in his life."

"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a look at them…"

The customer pushed aside the curtain leading to the Romantic showroom, and B211's heart stopped.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark skin and darker curls, and large, sparkling eyes that he could get lost in. He was handsome, very much so, but that wasn't what caused B211's breath to catch in his throat -- he saw many handsome customers. No, there was something about this one that ran deeper than his looks. B211 was seized with an inexplicable, undeniable desire -- this man absolutely had to buy him. This man should be his owner.

(But pets weren't supposed to have desires.)

The customer was staring at B211, too, but not in the way he would prefer. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that one," said the salesman. "He's a bit more high maintenance than our other Romantics, and you're looking for a pet that's very independent, right? I'm sure a lawyer doesn't have that much time to spend entertaining a pet, which is why I'm going to recommend this model…"

The customer, the lawyer, let himself be pulled away from B211's case, and B211 was filled with bubbling rage towards the salesman. Something flashed in his mind, a memory, perhaps, of fighting, of kicking and screaming, of having to be held down by four people as the IV was inserted into his arm --

No, that wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. He couldn't hate the salesman, or the handlers, who only wanted the best for him. If the lawyer wasn't a good fit…

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Why was this so important? He'd been passed up by so many people, what was one more to him?

B211 couldn't help but watch the lawyer out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he seemed bored with the other models the salesman was showing him. Distracted. He glanced back at B211, who quickly lowered his eyes to the floor.

"I think I have just the right fit for you!" said a bubbly saleswoman, emerging from the front of the store. She was leading along a man in a slouchy t-shirt and jeans, who was looking around the Romantics showroom in awe, as though he'd never seen so many pets. The saleswoman stopped in front of B211's case. "He's a refurb, so he's available at a discount! He's very affectionate and quite intelligent for a pet."

"Well, he's not bad looking," said this new customer. "Pet, introduce yourself."

B211 snapped to practiced attention. "Hello, sir, my designation is B211, and I'm a Romantic designation with additional Companion training. I enjoy cooking, old movies, and cuddling, and I'm always open to new adventures!"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. He's not really my type. I was hoping for something a little more… demure, do you have anything like that?"

"Certainly, sir, right this way!"

Normally, B211 would be devastated at losing another prospective buyer, but this time, all he could think about was the lawyer. The lawyer who was currently standing in front of the showroom's most expensive pet, being given the hard sell.

"…and he can do anything you want, sir. He'll be there for you when you need companionship, and quiet and out of the way when you need space. He's fully automated and intelligent enough to serve as a personal assistant or run a household. And when it comes to his Romantic skillset… he's very easy to please, and very eager and capable of pleasing others. If this pet is within your budget, I think he'd be the best suited to your needs, sir."

His needs. What were the lawyer's needs? Pets didn't have needs, couldn't have needs. B211 knew he could do whatever that so-called premium model could. But the lawyer probably had more than enough money to go premium, and why would he buy a discounted refurb when he could buy a brand-new luxury model?

"He does seem like an ideal fit…" said the lawyer.

"Would you like to spend a little time with him? I'm sure once you do, you won't be leaving this showroom alone."

"Well… maybe… but I'm still interested in that one. The one I saw when I first came in."

And the lawyer looked straight at B211.

It was impossible, wasn't it? Why would he be interested in B211 when a premium model was an option? Did he actually recognize B211's value? Was that why he'd been so drawn to this man as an owner?

The lawyer walked his way. B211 tried his hardest to read the expression on his face -- an essential skill for Romantics, to be able to read their master's smallest emotions -- but came up short. He couldn't tell what this man was thinking at all.

But his eyes looked kind. And B211 felt…

It was a feeling he couldn't place. It wasn't happy, or aroused, or quiet, or agreeable. B211 suspected it was one of those feelings he wasn't supposed to be having, one that the Drip was supposed to wash out of him.

"Are you sure, sir?" said the salesman, trailing after him. "This one is a refurb, you know. That's why he's on a discount."

"A refurb? Do you know why he was returned?" The lawyer's eyes never left B211.

"Ah, his original owner simply found a new relationship, and was displeased with the amount of attention this Romantic required. He's been wiped of those memories, and we've done our best to train out his unfortunate need for attention, of course, but he'd be a risk compared to our premium models, which can all be customized just for you for only a small additional fee…"

The lawyer wasn't paying attention to the salesman at all as he continued his pitch. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind.

And B211 finally placed what that strange feeling was. Safe. The lawyer made him feel safe. It wasn't something he had felt in training. It was something much older, something he shouldn't remember.

"I want to buy this one," said the lawyer abruptly, cutting off the salesman's patter.

The salesman couldn't hide his shock. "Are you sure, sir? There's no rush. We'd be happy to put a model on hold for you for a small deposit if you'd like more time to make up your mind."

"I've made up my mind. I want this one." The uncertainty on his face from a moment ago was gone, his voice firm. Firm enough that B211 dared to hope.

"If you're certain, then… I'll draw up the paperwork. But keep in mind that we don't accept returns on refurbished pets."

"I won't be returning him."

And the lawyer smiled at B211, actually smiled.

And someone had finally seen him. Someone wanted him. Someone was going to love him.

All he had to do was not screw it the fuck up.

Masterlist > Next

[scorpiussage]

Logan Howlett with a SO who likes to make him ugly sweaters

He has no idea who taught you to knit, but if he ever finds them he’s going to murder them in the bloodiest way possible. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t support you or your various hobbies and endeavors, he’s always the first in line to tell you how amazing you are and wear whatever you’ve knitted for him proudly. But Jesus fuck he can’t believe how ugly you make some of these sweaters. It’s like you have a gift or something (he makes a mental note to ask Charles if you’re actually a mutant and your power is making clothes that would make the blind weep) 

And you always look so excited whenever you give him a new one and he’s physically incapable of making you sad so into his rotation of clothes the new sweater goes - guaranteeing a mocking from Scott when he wears it. 

Though, as much as he hates the sweaters, no one fucks with them. He got into a fight with a usual baddie and he’d happened to be wearing one of your sweaters during it. When it got damaged, the whole battlefield went quiet and the X-men were quick to tell the enemy that they fucked up big time. No one ever hears from that particular villain ever again once Logan is through with them.

When Wade brings home a new (and alive) Logan, you begin your hobby all over again, gifting this very confused variant of your dead love sweaters. 

This Logan is also incapable of making you sad it seems, because he started to make a joke when you give him his first sweater but his face had gone panicked when you tearily asked him if he didn’t like it. 

“No no! Of course I like it! Look, Bub, I’ll even put it on right now,” and he does so with iron conviction written on his face, “It fits perfect. Look at that darling, you’ve got a talent.” 

It’s actually how this Logan falls in love with you. He can tell how much love and care you put into each sweater you make him and it does something to him. Touches a part of him that he thought he’d locked away forever. 

God above, though, he just wishes you’d use normal colors or something. 

(Charles nearly falls out of his chair laughing when this new Logan asks him if you’re a mutant and your power is making ugly sweaters) 

[spideyhexx]

saccharine - sharing the bed

saccharine - aka; cowgirl!reader who teases the shit out of him x billy who 'hates' you, or so he says.

sharing the bed

fem!reader, little nsfw

Billy tasked you with paying and booking a room at the local inn while the two of you made a stop in the nearby town. You were scouting with him, meeting some top notch lawyer that can help the gang’s endeavors. 

It came as a surprise when he specifically asked for you to join him on the trip (less than a 20 minutes ride on horseback, but nonetheless a trip, alone, with him). 

He addressed the group with his usual laidback confidence that made you swoon. So much so, you almost missed the way his voice perfectly said your name, followed by his instruction for you to accompany him. Later that day when you confronted him on it, you asked, “did you enlist me as your confidante for this job because of our kiss or…cause I’d-”

He scoffs, “No. You’re just perceptive. I need…perception from you when we meet this guy.” 

It makes you cock your brow and he shoves his shoulder into yours when he walks away. Most hasn’t changed since the two of you kissed. And frankly, you did not mind that one bit. At the most, there were more lingering glances and touches and that was fun enough. You swear to god, if Billy jumped your bones one of these days instead of just brushing his shoulder to yours, it would have you dead on the floor before he was even in you. 

You scold yourself for thinking about that with him. 

Billy had gone off who knows where, stating he needed to take care of some business whatever the hell that meant. But you knew better than to question him too much. You did like twice and he gave you the silent treatment and a look with his pretty blue eyes. So here you are, paying the lovely innkeeper for the room and trudging yourself up the stairs. 

Your eyes immediately lock onto the fact there’s one bed, but it doesn’t phase you. You’re an adult and the bed is large enough for you and Billy so who cares? Right? Right. 

You busy yourself while he’s gone. The money in your pocket was just enough to buy yourself a sad looking hat to replace your lost one, but at least it was something. You wrap one of your handkerchiefs around it to make it look better and when you stand in front of the mirror with it on, your shoulders sag. It’s not an ideal look but again, it was something. 

The rest of busying yourself ends in continuing the wood carving you had started. You were unsure of what exactly you were making, but it would come along eventually. Maybe you’ll give it to Billy. He did seem the sentimental type at times. 

Just as you’re gathering the wood shavings in a pile on the desk, there’s a knock to the door. You had told the innkeeper Billy’s name so she’d know to give him the room number. Jumping to your feet, you straighten out your shirt and smooth your hands on your pants. A quick adjustment to your hat is made before you open the door and he walks in before you can speak. 

“Hello to you too,” you say, closing and locking the door. 

Turning back to face him, he’s holding something behind his back and his eyes linger on the bed. “There’s only one bed,” he mumbles. 

“You can see.”

Billy rolls his eyes as he looks back to you, about to say something, but then he tilts his head, “you got a new hat?” 

“Yeah, I needed it, my head was burning up in the sun and I hate being-”

“Also I told you to get a room with two beds,” he interrupts, looking back at the bed, and you use that opportunity to move closer to him. 

“I forgot to ask about that, but it’s a fairly big bed. What do you have behind your back?” 

Billy’s gaze returns to you and he doesn’t even flinch at the fact you’ve moved close enough to be right in front of him. He just knew you would do that. 

“You forgot to ask?” He gives you a look, his brow raised, like he’s disbeliebving of you. 

You give him a dramatic sigh, “Yes! I forgot! But it’ll be fine, you prude, we can sleep in a bed together.”

He shifts on his feet when you call him a prude and his lips turn into a pout as your hand hits at his chest. “What’s behind your back, Bonney?”

Billy glances back at your hat, “That looks stupid on you,” he nods his head to it. A smirk graces his lips when you groan. 

“I know! But I needed one. So get used to this stupidity, I guess,” you grumble at him. You pause a moment, then just shove at his chest again. Billy purposely stumbles back a little and you know it. Almost makes you smile, but you don’t let yourself. 

“What was thar for?” Billy walks back close to you, his gaze ever so intense even with his calm smile. 

“I don’t know!” 

You throw your hands up with your words. Billy lets out a breathless chuckle, looking to the floor and you shift to try and see what he’s holding, but he turns before you can. 

“Take that damn hat off,” he tells you, waiting. 

Part of you wants to keep defying him, but he’s got a spark in his eyes and it’s making you weak. So you take the hat off and just toss it aside. 

“Better,” Billy says, and he moves his hands to his front, your perfect hat that he bought you in his hands. Your eyes widen at it, looking back to his eyes, then to the hat. “Did you buy a new one or-”

“No, it’s the one you lost,” he says, delicately putting the hat on your head, fixing it just right. 

“But how did you-”

“None of your business.”

You roll your eyes at him and his smirk is a legitimate threat to your sanity right now. 

“You need to learn to stop interrupting me, I thought you had some manners.”

He scoffs, “Only some? I have manners.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. Oh. They look nice. Like you can tell he has muscles even through his shirt. Oh. 

“How did you get the hat back?” You try asking him again to block out your other thoughts. 

Billy thinks for a short moment before he shakes his head, “Like I said. None of your business.” 

Billy knew someone must’ve taken the hat, it was nice, and probably lying in the dirt. He went into every shop on the main street in town, hoping to catch someone with it on, with the reddish brown tie around it that he added. His luck of finding it was running out when he sees no sign, until he’s walking out of the general store, and sees a little girl with it on, too big for her head and her mother at her side buying some fruit. He initially decides to just let it be and buy you a new one, but he’d have little no money left so. 

He approaches the mother with his typical charming smile and a nod of his head. 

“Afternoon, ma’am,” he says, and the woman looks wary at first but gives him a greeting. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, it just seems your…little girl there has a hat that belongs to…a friend of mine. A special friend,” he adds on without really thinking. That’s what you were, yeah? A special friend. 

“I can show you the receipt if you need me to, my friend’s just been upset over losing her hat and I wanted to make her…,” he trails off and the woman seems to get what he means, bending down to talk to her daughter, saying something along the lines of this nice man says the hat they found belongs to a good friend who would be very happy if it was returned, etc. etc. 

Billy smiles at the little interaction and he takes the hat from the woman when she gives it to him, then he pauses. He digs into his pocket and takes out the money he had. “Buy her a hat that fits her with this. Sure she’ll love it even more. Every cowgirl needs her hat,” he says, before bidding them goodbye and heading to his horse with a stupid grin on his face. God he hates how he feels about you, but he can’t even hide it anymore. He’ll get his head together before he sees you. 

“You’re annoying,” you tell him when he keeps denying you how he found the hat. 

“Likewise, sweetheart.” 

Your heart does a jump, but you’ve already turned away from him, so he doesn’t see the way you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. 

“Thank you for getting it,” you say to him and all he does is give a hum in response.

When the both of you settle for bed, you take up the opposite sides, so far from touching, yet it feels like you can still feel the heat from his body. There’s only the one blanket, so you share it. You tug it closer to you. He tugs it back more to him. 

You consider kicking him under the blanket but refrain because you’re not sure if you could handle feeling his leg. 

He falls asleep fast and you envy him for it because now you’re left with his calm expression and messy hair next to you. He’s just so beautiful. You’re not sure if he even knows how pretty he is or if you should tell him. Surely you’ve said it to him before, but he always wrote it off as you mocking him. But you wanted to stare into his eyes and tell him you thought he was pretty. 

“You’re pretty,” you whisper aloud without another thought. He doesn’t move, nor change expression, which gives you a sigh of relief. 

You watch him for a bit until you feel creepy and turn on your side, facing away from him, sleep slowly drifting over you. 

As the morning light shines through the window, you start to stir awake, your hand reaching up to rub at your eyes. But you feel him. Close. His chest flush to your back and his arm over you, his leg loosely tangled with yours, his breath on your neck, his groin…

His groin and the undeniable arousal from him pressed right to your backside. 

Your sleepy state doesn’t fully register it all at first until he shifts and you can almost feel how big he is. How nice it feels against your ass and how the slightest shift from you would make you rub against him, so close to your own pooling desire. 

Your eyes open. 

It snaps you out of the daze and you almost shriek, pushing your elbow back against his chest. It pushes his body to the edge of the bed. Billy stirs awake at the hit, but he’s too asleep still to realize his position and he falls off the bed, landing with a thud to the floor.

“What the fuck…” he mutters out, groaning, rubbing his chest where you shoved him. 

You quickly roll over to other side of the bed to see him, partially trying not to laugh, partially feeling very guilty. “Uh…I’m sorry?”

Billy, sleepy, messy-haired Billy, looks at you with his brow furrowed and his hand rubbing his chest still, “What the fuck was that for?” 

He sounds angry and you’re about to answer when he pauses, his gaze down at his lap. The blanket had fallen off the bed with him, but it still did not hide how hard he was. 

“Well you were kinda spoonin’ me,” you mumble, then put your hand over your mouth when he looks back up at you. His cheeks are flushed and he shifts the blanket so you can’t see his erection any longer. 

“I was?” 

“Yeah.”

Silence falls over the two of you and he’s trying to decipher if he actually made you uncomfortable but then he watches you try not to laugh and he shakes his head. 

“You can laugh,” he resigns, rubbing his hand through his hair, then at his chest again. 

You do laugh, just a little, then give him a pained expression, “I didn’t mean to push you that hard. Your head all good?”

“Fuckin’ shoved me, cowgirl,” he mumbles and you squeeze your thighs together, “yeah, head’s fine, but you probably got my ass bruised.”

A snort comes from you and it makes him smile. Oh you loved that smile. Since when did he like when you snorted?

“It’s not my fault you were a pervert with your…morning wood against me.”

“Okay, hold on, I am not…” he trails off and shakes his head, “I am not that. And don’t call it that.”

“What should I call it?”

He rubs his hand over his face, groaning, “just be quiet.”

“Will do, boss,” you say, smiling like a dork at him even though he can’t see it. 

But silently, you hoped he was also grinning like that under his hand.