#he clomps and he jingles

[berrydoodleoo]

Alright, kiddo. Let’s go.

So I’ve been reading (and re-reading and re-re-reading) Palindrome by empress9 (I can’t recommend it enough!) and I needed to make something with dad!Cor and Prompto. So here we are! I imagine this is set at the beginning of Chapter 26, when Cor and Prompto are on their way out of town.

[bisexualiteaa]

Feo, Fuerte Y Formal

Pre-Ghoul/Pre-War Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (FLUFF!!)

CW: sickeningly sweet domestic Cooper, Pre-Ghoul copper, cursing, dancing in the kitchen, talk of marriage, talk of kids, mentions of his divorce, mention of alcohol (nothing crazy though) potential grammatical and spelling errors! Briefly proof-read! Slightly suggestive themes (cooper can’t keep his hands off his pretty girl 🤭)

AN: For all my Cooper Howard lovers who have been asking for him Pre-Ghoul/Pre-War I finally present one to you! I know most of you wanted smut, but honestly for some reason this just felt more like what Pre-War life with Cooper would feel like in my opinion. I feel as if maybe I know more of him in ghoul form to know better how to write smut for the ghoul side of him, but who knows! I may just have to come out with a part two that is just smut of him after he gets married to reader, still pre war, thoughts? 👀 anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! Hope I can do my pre-ghoul loving Cooper lovelies justice for this! 🥰

Also in celebration of international jazz day, I included jazz music! The songs Cooper and reader dance to in their kitchen incase y’all want a more immersive experience! ☺️ I know Michael Bublé’s version isn’t exactly in that time period but his version just feels so much more intimate in my opinion, but feel free to listen to the original if you wish instead!

Tag list: @expirednukacola

It was like any other day in your quaint little home. You were standing by the stove, working on food for dinner for you and Cooper waiting for him to come home from work. You were just finished up with mixing up the mashed potatoes with a mixer when you heard keys jingle in the front door to your house. You smiled giddily as you heard the door open, the clomp of Cooper’s signature cowboy boots across the linoleum floor as your man stepped inside. “Welcome home honey!” You called from the kitchen as he took his shoes off in the entrance of the house, padding into the kitchen once disposing of his work bag and cowboy hat on the hangers near the living room. “How lovely it is to see your face after a long day” he said, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You gave a contented hum as he rested his head against your shoulder before placing a sweet kiss to your cheek, not wanting to distract you from the absolute art that was your cooking. “How was work?” You asked, making him chuckle as he stood next to you, watching you as you put your heart and soul into the gravy for the mashed potatoes and pot roast finishing up in the oven. “Oh you know, the usual. Kinda pissed that ain’t nothin’ special happen today” he said, making you turn to him. “All that fuss of bringin’ you in on your day off, just for it t’ be a load a nothin’?” You asked, upset for him that they would do that to him, of course it wasn’t the first time this had occurred, he’d been called in on his days off quite often actually. But it never really upset you, not when you knew it made him happy and when at the end of the day, he’d always come home to you. “Yeah…never fails” he said, making you shake your head. “Figures. I oughta have a chat with that agent of yours to letchya off the hook every now an ‘gain. A day off is meant to be enjoyed! To relax! Not to come straight back into work with more stress than there already is to begin with” you said, making him chuckle at the threatening way you held the spatula in his direction with gravy dripping off it into the pot. “I’m sorry again we couldn’t go to that jazz concert ya wanted to go see” he said, making you somber for a moment remembering the cute plans you’d made for today since he was supposed to be off, but were ruined the moment he answered that damned phone that almost never stops ringing. “Oh don’t you sweat it, darlin’. Been listenin’ to it in the radio! Figured we could have our own little at home date and just enjoy it from the radio, whatdya say?” You asked with a hopeful smile, and he loved the way you always managed to find the positives in even the worst situations. “Sounds good to me if it’s good with you darlin’” he said, pulling you in by the hip to give you a quick, soft kiss. You smiled into it before swatting his hands as he tried to distract you from cooking by letting his hands wander. “Now now, after super, mister. Besides, I worked hard on this pot roast! I’d be cross if it went cold!” You said, making him laugh. He loved your attitude and dedication to your craft, it was just a few of the many things he loved about you truly. As a man fresh from divorce, you sure knew how to make him feel like a brand new man.

He helped you in setting everything out in the table, carrying the pot of mashed potatoes, and the gravy as you made it very clear you needed to place down the pot roast. “Everythin’ smells delicious sweet pea” he said, making you smile proudly as you set down the roast on a mitt to keep the wooden table safe from warping from the heat of the roast pan. “Mmm-MM! Damn honey, looks about as good as you” he said suavely, coming back with two glasses and a bottle of your favorite wine. “Picked this up on the way home as an apology for date night AND!” He said before excitedly going and grabbing flowers from his bag to present you with. You gasped as you saw the beautiful assortment of roses he got you, covering your mouth with your hand as you took them. “Coop! Awww, honey ya shouldn’t have!” You said, hugging him for them and the wine before he found a vase for you to put them in. “They’re gorgeous! Oh gosh you spoil me” you said, making him laugh as he held you close once taking them from your hold so he could be the center of your attention at that moment. “Anything for you honey, it’s the least I could do. Besides, you deserve a man who treats ya like I’m still trynna win ya over, an’ I’m always gonna do that” he said, smiling down at you before kissing you once more. “Well, you are certainly forgiven. Especially now” you said playfully, both of you chuckling amongst each other as he swayed you back and forth to the music. “Alright, c’mon lover boy. Let’s eat ‘fore it gets cold, yeah?” You asked with a smile before moving to sit your self-designated seats at the dinner table, smiling as you popped open the bottle of wine to pour you both a glass after helping yourself to a plate full. He gave a hum in delight at the first taste of your cooking, making you giggle as you cut into your roast before taking a bite. “You are truly a god send. How you make the most delicious food, delicious desserts, I made out” he said, making you giggle once more, a well cooked carrot on the tip of your fork. “What can I say? Mama raised a good one. She really wanted me to get married and give her some grand babies, so had a kick ass teacher” you replied, popping the carrot into your mouth once you’d finished talking with a grin stretched to your pretty lips. “Imma have to thank her myself again when I see her next then, because you are a god damn angel” he said, making you laugh as he continued to compliment you and shout pleased expletives as your delicious home cooked meal.

Once you’d both finished up with dinner, the dishes quickly found their way into the dishwasher and it wasn’t long before you both were slow dancing in your shared kitchen. You smiled up at him as the song that played when you two met, then when you first got together, and on your first date began to play. What luck it was that it would end up playing!

How lucky can one guy be?

I kissed her and she kissed me.

Like the fella once said,

“Ain’t that a kick in the head?”

You smiled and giggled as you both swayed to the upbeat song, listening to the singer who did a mighty fine impression of Dean Martin in your opinion. You watched as Cooper happily began singing along, making all sorts of funny faces as he got into it, loving the way it always made you smile.

The room was completely black.

I hugged her and she hugged back.

Like the sailor said, quote,

“Ain’t that a hole in the boat?”

My head keeps spinning.

I go to sleep and keep grinning.

If this is just the beginning,

My life is gonna be beautiful.

You started to sing along with him, unable to deny just the purely happy energy almost radiating from him, as if he was singing this song and singing it about you. Your smile stretched so wide it almost hurt your cheeks, seeing those cute little dimples that rested in his when he was truly and genuinely happy.

I’ve got sunshine enough to spread.

It’s just like the fella said,

“Tell me quick: ain’t love a kick in the head?”

Like the fella once said,

“Ain’t that a kick in the head?”

Like the sailor said, quote,

“Ain’t that a hole in the boat?”

My head keeps spinning.

I go to sleep and keep grinning.

If this is just the beginning,

My life is gonna be beautiful.

She’s telling me we’ll be wed.

She’s picked out a king-size bed.

I couldn’t feel any better or I’d be sick.

Tell me quick, oh, ain’t love a kick?

Tell me quick, ain’t love a kick in the head?

He smiled as he swayed you back and forth, looking at you and singing to you before twirling you in front of him, watching the skirt of your dress billow out around you as you spun. Before the song came to an end, he dipped you, holding you up with an arm resting in the dip of your lower back as your arms looped around his neck. His lips connected with yours, his heart racing as he looked at you, feeling as happy as the upbeat rhythm of the song. Your one hand cradled his cheek as you kissed, passionately and sweetly before he brought you back up. “Reminds me of the day we first met” you said with a happy smile, remembering that day well. You had been in attendance to your best friend’s little girl’s birthday party where they hired Cooper to do his titular cowboy stunts to entertain the children, but over time as the kids talked and played amongst each other, you’d bravely strewn up to him, thanks to enjoying a few martinis before hand. You’d told him how much of a fan you were, and struck up conversation with him by the radio that was playing music that the kids were dancing to and that song so happened to be one of them. You two hit it off enough that you’d actually talked all night, even after the time he was paid to be there for. “Okay you two, my wallet can only handle the great Cooper Howard for so long” your best friend said, making you blush and apologize for holding him up so long. “Say no more ma’am, I’ll get outta your hair. But you, pretty lady, I would love to keep in touch with” he said, and you could have shit your pants as he gave you a napkin with his phone number written on with. You hadn’t expected THE Cooper Howard to actually want to talk to you, let alone become something akin to friends! And yet here you were, living in a nice little house out in the farmlands with him. It was like a dream come true. It was right after that song that played, that another came through the speakers that you enjoyed dancing to. You smiled as you took his hands to lead the dance.

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance, you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

You mouthed the lyrics to the song as you focused on the intimate dance you’d both learned. His hands cascaded down from your arms, down your waist then rested on your hips as you both swayed to the rhythm. A smirk donned his lips as he recalled the first time you both ever danced to this song, as if the chemistry between you was so strong, so natural that the dance hardly even needed to be taught to you.

Other dancers may be on the floor

Dear, but my eyes will see only you

Only you have that magic technique

When we sway, I go weak

I can hear the sounds of violins

Long before it begins

Make me thrill as only you know how

Sway me smooth, sway me now

Other dancers may be on the floor

Dear, but my eyes will see only you

Only you have that magic technique

When we sway, I go weak

He never failed to steal your heart with the skillful way he would twirl you and dip you deeply to the loud sound of the trumpets reaching the peak at the end of that verse. You smiled up at him as your lips ghosted his, coming so close to brushing against his before pulling you back up to continue the fast paced dance to the song.

I can hear the sounds of violins

Long before it begins

Make me thrill as only you know how

Sway me smooth, sway me now

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

When marimbas start to play

Hold me close, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance, you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

As the song came to its end, he twirled you in front of him, jumping between facing him and having your back turned to him as your feet stepped around one another’s and bodies swayed in tandem together like the fluid motion of water brushing against the sand of a beach. You smiled brightly as he dipped you once more, your arms looped around his neck as you lifted your one leg to rest against his hip, his one hand holding you up and his free one resting along the back of your thigh that rested against him. “Still got it” he said confidently, making you chuckle. “Never doubted that you did” you quipped, enjoying this intimate, peaceful moment together. “I love you, so damn much Y/N” He said as leaned down, making you grin just a little bit wider at his kind, heart spoken words. “I love you so damn much too, Cooper Howard” you said, making him hum at the use of his full name, feeling your fingers brushing his cheek as your eyes flit between his and his lips before pulling him into a more heated, passionate kiss than the ones you shared earlier. With a little wine in both of your systems and having not seen one another since the early hours of the morning, it left you rather caught up in the moment and wanting of one another.

“Before I get too carried away now, I did get ya another gift. Been hangin’ onto it for a while now, and well…it didn’t feel right to give it to ya ‘til now” he said, making you playfully slap his chest at the fact that he fussed enough over you guys missing a concert to get you so many gifts to make up for something so small. “Cooper Howard! You and the gifts, you’re startin’ to make me look like a spoiled princess!” You chewed him out, making him laugh, he knew you hated it when he fussed over you but he just couldn’t help himself. In his eyes you deserved the world, and god damn it would he make sure he could give it to you. “I do it ‘cause I want to, honey. Don’t you worry” he said, making you stand with your hands on your hips giving him a playful glare. “Just close your eyes for me, would ya sugar? And before ya chew me out some more, I think you’ll find that you’re gonna love it” he said sweetly, and of course you did what he asked, ever curious of why he was playing this gift up so much. “If you’re tryin’ to play any moves on me, might I remind you that the kitchen blinds are still open? Don’t need to be givin’ Betty-Sue and her husband Harold a view straight from one of them magazines” you said, making him give a hearty laugh in response. “Well maybe I should close the blinds then, but I got a feelin’ it’ll have you screamin’ in a different kinda way sugar” he replied, and you couldn’t help the blush that tickled to your cheeks. “Well now you got me guessin’” you said, a little anxious now to see what it was he’d gotten for you. “Well then stop guessin’. Open your eyes and find out” he said, and the gasp that left your lips you swore could have been heard from the next house down. “Cooper!!” You yelled loud enough to also likely be heard a few doors over, with tears coming to your eyes as you saw him standing there on one knee, a gorgeous diamond ring resting in the box he had outstretched to you. “Oh my god, Coop…you did not” you said through chuckles and happy tears, making him beam up at you. “I sure did. I’d be doin’ you, myself, and your mama one hell of a disservice if I didn’t put a ring on that gorgeous finger a yours for all the things you done for me. You stuck by me through all the nasty shit in the divorce, you’ve done nothin’ but love and care for little Janey as if she were your own, and by god if you ain’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever gotten the honor of knowin’” he said, making you cover your mouth with your hands as you listened to him. “You got my whole heart Y/N, even when I thought none of it was left, you found it and put it right back together. And that’s a whole hell of a lot more than what this ol’ boy could ever ask for” he said, making you chuckle at him calling himself old when he wasn’t really. “So whatdya say? Will you marry me?” He asked, making you shake your head yes about as vigorously as you could without running the risk of getting whiplash. “Yes! A million times yes. I’ll marry you Coop” you said, making him smile as he picked you up in his arms, twirling you both around in celebratory fashion with shared happy laughter. As he set you down, he kissed you once more before sliding that gorgeous diamond ring on your finger. You smiled as you looked down at it, so overjoyed, so overflown with love you just couldn’t help but kiss him again. “It’s beautiful Cooper, thank you” you said sweetly, making him pull your hand up to his lips as he pressed them to your knuckles. “No, thank you sweetheart. For everything you do for this stubborn son of a gun” he said, making you giggle once more at him before pressing your forehead to his, closing your eyes to enjoy the peaceful quiet in this beautiful, intimate moment together.

“Well shit, I suppose you’ve done and earned the right to dessert now after everything” you said teasingly, breaking the silence and making him whistle excitedly at the prospect of what your words had in store. You yelped in surprise then laughed as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you to your shared bedroom with all the excitement of a couple still in their honeymoon phase. You supposed now it wouldn’t be long until you actually had a honeymoon with him. “Cooper! Good lord! You are just full of it today” you said through laughs as he brought you into the bedroom, grinning as he closed the door behind him with his foot. The poor man just couldn’t get enough of you, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. “Don’t get me wrong I love your cookin’ sugar, but I’d be a lyin’ sack a shit if I said havin’ you for dessert afterwards wasn’t my favorite part” he said, making you laugh as he set you on the soft, king sized bed you two shared. “Well then come get a piece of your future bride then, cowpoke” you said with a smirk, and he ain’t never grinned wider than after hearing those words leave your mouth.

[missaengg]

Jingling Orbs From Hell

11 Days Until Christmas: Bells Made for Ikemen Advent hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Featuring: Ikemen Villains Jude Jazza x f!reader Tags: fluff Word Count: 675

Jude doesn’t understand horse-drawn carriage rides – the ones that expose you to the elements and have no purpose other than to circle the park at any rate. Carriages are a means of transportation, meant to protect you from the elements and get you from point A to point B when it’s too far to walk. Not aimlessly meander in circles with no clear destination.

And dear lord, they most certainly aren’t supposed to have bells. That’s a downright safety hazard. Who wants to ride in a carriage that announces your presence? You might as well wear a sign that says, “Rob me, oh robbers!’ 

It doesn’t make any sense.

But this carriage, the one that brings you back to where you started, which defeats the whole purpose of carriages… this carriage is covered in god forsaken bells. The string of bells outline the edges, and the tiny round balls of death jingle with every clomping step the horse takes, a never ending raucous cacophony of shrill discord.

If that isn’t bad enough, the park is bursting to the brim with people despite the frigid winter temperatures – people who would hear the damn janglers and swivel their heads to gawk at the passing carriage.

The carriage Jude is currently riding. 

Jude, who is always being hunted by those he’s brutally punished for breaking their contracts. Jude, who’s in a carriage that draws attention. Jude, who is on display in this carriage without a roof and visible to anyone the carriage passes.

Jude, who would never voluntarily ever step foot in this irritating, useless carriage, unless… unless it’s you who asks him.

Hunched as far down in his seat as he can slouch, he grimaces, feeling a headache coming on from the ear-piercing jangle of the sleigh bells ringing nonstop in his ear. He scowls at the gawking crowd out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t appreciate feeling like a monkey on display at the zoo, a source of entertainment for the masses.

Crossing his arms, he glances at you sitting across from him. You’re leaning against the side, looking out into the park, the occasional ‘look’ and ‘isn’t it beautiful?’ leaving your mouth. Your eyes sparkle with a child-like glee. You point out every single Christmas decoration even if it’s the hundredth tree you’ve seen in this short ride around the park.  

It’s times like these Jude wonders how it’s possible for one person to be so bright and pure. A woman like you doesn’t belong in Jude’s world. You deserve a peaceful life free of worries and full of normal things Jude can’t give you because he’s a villain.

And yet, he’s always amazed at how you can surprise him with how brash you are, how feisty you can be wielding a gun when running away from his enemies. How you’re determined to stay by his side as a dependable partner. How you’re able to take his sadistic teasing in stride and enjoy it while giving it back.

You turn to him, a big, beaming smile on your face, the tip of your nose nipped pink by the cold, and as your eyes meet his, Jude sighs – a soft, resigned exhale. His hand, encased in the wonky gloves you made for him, catches yours and tugs, pulling you into his lap. Startled, you blink at him for a few seconds before your face lights up and you throw your arms around his neck. Jude clicks his tongue, burying his face into your shoulder and holding you tight. He refuses to let you go.

Somehow, a silly lil birdie like you has managed to curse him to hell and back with a curse called love – a curse as irritating and beautiful as the full moon.

Jude can’t give you a normal life. He can’t provide you with safe, stable mundanities like a typical marriage, but… if a silly little carriage ride around the park can make you happy, he’d ride it a million times to see you smile – those jingling demon orbs be damned.

[halsins-herbal-underpants]

Only Good Boys Get a Treat

Gale x M!Tav Rating: Explicit 18+ PWP, D/s, Puppy!Gale CW: light pain play Kinks: Petplay (Master/Pet), light pain, boot/leg humping Approx. 750 words

Puppy!Gale proves himself a very good boy. short piece I did inspired by some super sexy/cute puppy!gale art Read on Ao3 ◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

“Come on boy, be a good pup for me. Sit up! That’s it…” Tav crooned as Gale raised up a bit more on his knees, paws up, cock hard and bobbing gently. Tav slid the toe of his leather boot back between Gale’s thighs, sharp-pointed steel toe nudging just behind his hanging balls, prodding up against his soft taint.

Gale’s whimpering grew high pitched, the man wincing as Tav ground his toe into that tender area. He could see the wizard starting to pull away and the sole of his boot quickly darted back and flattened against the underside of Gale’s cock, heels digging into his scrotum as he pressed down in warning. His puppy froze, a pained whine escaping his throat.

“Ah-ah! Did I say to move? Heel, boy! Stay.” 

Gale exhaled a shaking breath, but eased himself back down onto his heels, his arms shaking a bit from being held up so long, his hands encased in leather mitts. Tav eased his foot back, stroking the steel toe of his boot up and down Gale’s cock, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the head, slowly grinding into the soft flesh. Gale’s hips bucked as he leaked all over the leather, needing friction, needing touch. Tav grinned and pulled on the leash in his hand. 

“Eager, aren't you? Okay, boy..." He tugged the leash. "Come! Do what’s natural, pup.”

He planted his boot down on the ground with a clomp! and pulled until Gale fell forward with a grunt; he whined and crawled to Tav’s leg until he was pressed up against the shiny patent leather. Tav slowly smiled, watching and waiting.

Gale ducked his head, the puppy ears on his headband falling forward as he flushed darkly with embarrassment – and yet, still yanked his hips to grind himself desperately against Tav’s boot, smearing precum on the patent leather. Humping and grinding his cock against it, soft whimpers escaping his throat, the name tag on his collar jingling. 

Tav sighed, pleased, and raised the crop, suddenly giving Gale’s bouncing reddened ass another welt with a loud smack. His puppy howled and buried his face against Tav’s knee, but kept thrusting. Tav watched appreciatively – it was always so cute when Gale humped his leg like a bitch in heat and that little doggie tail plug of his bounced in time. 

Tav gave his plump jiggling ass another strike just for being so adorable, earning another choked cry. He dropped his hand to keep stroking his own cock, getting ready to give his puppy his well-deserved treat, watching Gale start to pant and moan as his grinding increased speed, cock red and throbbing and making a slick mess of his Master's boot.

When Gale finally wailed and spilled himself all over the top of Tav's foot, like he was ordered – such a good boy for listening! – Tav was pleased he didn’t even have to remind his puppy to clean up his own mess. Gale dropped to all fours and immediately licked up every drop of cum he’d spattered over the leather, making the cutest little whimpering noises, still shivering from his orgasm.

He didn’t swallow, just crawled up between his Master’s legs and sat on his heels, mouth open to show he was still holding it all, and tongue out like a good obedient pup. Tav smirked, stroking faster.

“Good boy! That’s my sweet boy,” he praised, reaching with his other hand to scratch in Gale’s sweat-dappled hair, the wizard’s eyes brightening and face flushing happily at such praise.

Tav stroked faster, feverishly, and with a groan gripped Gale’s jaw and pulled his face close, emptying his swollen balls of every drop of seed they held. He spurted right on top of Gale’s tongue, mixing his spend with the wizard's own. He came so much his poor puppy had a hard time keeping it all in his mouth, but he mostly managed. 

Afterwards, Tav exhaled a sigh and gently pushed Gale’s mouth closed. His pup dutifully swallowed both heavy, thick loads, drips of cum dribbling from his lips to his chin and opened his mouth for Master to show he’d been a good boy. If he swallowed it all, he got the reward he loved best.

Tav grinned, scratched Gale's head again and leaned back, patting his chest. Gale jumped up onto his lap and curled up, his little doggie tail wagging as Master cradled him close and cuddled him until he was soft and relaxed and content, showering him with sweet praise the whole while.

[discipulusmaleficus]

It's not all that surprising that Kalmar is asleep when Lewis returns, paint specked and alone. He'd been... y'know. More than a little buzzed. He gets it.

The clomping of his shoes and the jingling of the various chains adorning his clothes tear through the still sleepy silence. He feels the muscles in his neck clench with each stupid-loud footstep, eyes darting between the floor, and the door, and Kalmar-

Coming here was stupid. This is his fault, he's sure of it. He's the one who pawned off the booze he didn't want to someone he Knows For a Fact drinks too much. He's the one who lied over "Nothing". He's the one who can't get over his ex, or commit to Kal, can't just say how he feels about anyone or anything, can't be soft or kind or even good-

He adjusts the railing on one side of the bed. Takes a seat next to his unconscious friend. His hand finds the back of Kalmar's neck, fingers running up towards the base of his skull and then back down towards the nape of his neck.

"Hey. You awake?" And then, softer, half afraid. "You okay?"

@scxrytxles

The touch is remarkably shocking for something so gentle. It cuts straight through his half-formed dreams, he twists a little, makes a small noise that might have resembled a whimper. Consciousness brings with it a fresh thrum of pain that can only partially be blamed on an incipient hangover -- he's not even totally sober now, probably.

"Oh, no. I'm shit," he mutters, stretching halfheartedly, eyelids still fluttering open. "Absolutely fucking awful. Um --"

He pauses, looks at Lewis with wide, pale eyes as he tries to reconstruct precisely what he was doing a few hours ago just before. Briefly gauges his chances of making it to the bin independently if he pukes again, finds them discouraging.

"Fine. 'm fine." He feels a sharp jab of shame, shifts uncomfortably in his bed. (He's pretty sure he belongs to it, and not the other way around.) Oh, so you asked him to trust you, huh, Kal? Don't want him to think you're too delicate and volatile and immature to handle any of it? Well, good fucking job today--

"I am -- I do apologise. For this. Shouldn't've bothered you." One dead-white hand finds Lewis's forearm, runs over his tattooed skin. He grins ruefully. "Didn't need to come down."

"Don't need to tell me shit if you don't want to, either. You know that. I just --"

I just wish you wanted to. Sometimes.

"I was just being a bitch."

[doodledrawreblogs]

3, 16, and 29 for the Ao3 wrapped game please!

Hi Casey!! sorry this took so long I forgot lskdjfgsldf

3. what work are you most proud of?

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on for sure!! It was so fun to write and I really enjoyed exploring this AU :D

16. what's your most common "Additional Tags" tag?

"Post Canon" and "Team as Family" are leading the rankings with 7 uses each!!

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I honestly can't pick, but this line from I'm the kind of trouble that you enjoy always makes me giggle....he CLOMPED

Peace that was certainly broken as Pete clomped into the house from the garage, keys jingling as he dropped them into the bowl and then made his way into the kitchen, calling out in greeting as he did so.

great prompts, thank you!!

ao3 wrapped asks!!

[gwyndolence]

Gwyn whistled merrily as he wound his way between the dormitory beds on his hunt, not exactly going for stealth when the clomp of his boots or the jingling of the little chains dangling off the sith's beltloops would herald his approach from a mile away. He wasn't sneaking up on Alasdair this time either, though he did have a bit of a surprise in mind. "Now isn't that a sorry sight," Gwyn grinned toothily as he found his quarry, cocking his head down at the nephilim with a disapproving click of his tongue as he came to a stop by the young man's knee, "I could leave you to your art, if that's how you want to spend your special evening, or..." He trailed off with a little wink, dropping his arm from where he'd secured the leather jacket slung over his shoulder, holding it out with both hands Alasdair's way, "You can put this on and keep myself and the bottle of champagne up in my suite company for a while."

The longer Alasdair stayed in the Undercroft, the more defeated he felt; he was antisocial at the best of times, but felt even more so as he sat on the floor next to his bed, using his finger to trace patterns on the ground. He never expected to be spending his twenty-sixth birthday in captivity -- or any of his birthdays really. He'd made a few friends -- Gwyn and Seth, mostly -- but he didn't expect either of them to be free to come and drag him out of there whenever he needed them to.

Grabbing a piece of loose stone, Dair started etching into the floor instead, the shape of a birthday cake with some candles on before sitting back to admire his... fairly shitty artwork. He never claimed to be an artist. "Happy birthday to me, I guess," he muttered to himself before he heard some footsteps close by which caught his attention.

@krovscastlestarters

[myperfectdad]

43. A pleasure doing business

This story was originally published on My website. Read new My Perfect Dad stories at JayHypnoWriter.com a full week before they drop here, and follow Me @JayHypnoWriter on Twitter for more updates.

The bell above the door jingled, and the door slammed three times in rapid succession. If I weren’t so annoyed, I’d have laughed. But instead, I paid the intrusion no mind and kept shelving books. I admit it wasn’t the best customer service approach, but in this case, it was justified.  

I knew who it was. The repeated slamming of the door gave it away. Emmett Vyner may have been a captain of industry and a billionaire real estate developer, but whenever he visited my humble bookshop, he was somehow stumped by the front door. His lack of skill with an industry-standard handle and hinge belied his business acumen.  

“Nathan,” he called out. I rolled my eyes. He called again. When I didn’t answer a second time, he took my silence as an invitation to wander the stacks looking for me. As his clomping footsteps grew louder, I wished I could disappear into the pages of one of the books. Any of them, even a depressing one like Angela’s Ashes, would do. “Found you!” 

No such luck. Emmett stared at me through a gap between two books, a sleazy smile splitting his round face. I got off my stepstool and walked into the center of my shop. The space was already thick with the smell of Emmett’s cheap aftershave.  

“There’s no point in these little visits,” I said as I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not selling.”  

Emmett plodded toward me. “My offer is generous, Nathan. I’ve got plenty of strip malls you can move to.”  

“No.” I’d lost count of how many times I’d refused his increasingly desperate offers to buy me out in the last year. “I’m not going anywhere.”  

Emmett abandoned his faux friendliness and took an aggressive posture. “I hoped we could settle this like gentlemen. I don’t want to put you out of business, but you’re standing in the way of progress.”  

This guy was used to bullying and intimidating anyone who stood in his way. If I were anyone else, it probably would have worked. By my estimation, Emmett was about fifty-five, six feet tall and thickly built, somewhere in the vicinity of 250 pounds. He looked like the kind of guy who wrestled or played football decades ago and whose brawny athleticism was concealed beneath decades of sedentary office work and drive-thru coffee and donuts. To the rest of the world, he was a corporate killer, but when I looked at Emmett Vyner, I didn’t see bullying or intimidation.

I saw a hot daddy bear.

My initial attraction to Emmett set our relationship off on affable terms. I let my dick influence my behavior and was nicer to him than I should have been. I later came to regret this as his intention to bulldoze my shop became clear. Emmett must have felt pressure to move forward with his development project because his visits to Riker’s Books had grown more frequent and hostile of late. As much as I still wanted to bury my face in his belly and run my fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, Emmett Vyner and I were enemies now.  

“Tearing down a local institution like Riker’s to build some stupid condos? Doesn’t sound like progress to me. Now, unless you’re here to shop, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”  

Emmett shook his head and handed me a folded paper from his jacket pocket. “It didn’t have to be this way. I’ve got plenty of friends at City Hall. I’m afraid you can’t win this one.”  

I unfolded the paper, and my vision went white with rage when I saw the words EMINENT DOMAIN printed across the top. I looked back at Emmett, whose sleazy smile had returned and seemingly gotten bigger. He looked like a used car salesman, only a million times more dangerous.  

“I’ll give you until noon tomorrow to accept my offer,” he said. “And then we’ll move forward with the other options on the table.”  

I let him leave without another word. I was so angry that I didn’t even notice the door repeatedly slamming upon his exit. Emmett Vyner, the hot daddy of my dreams, was taking my business away from me by force.

Closing the shop that night felt different. I went through the motions—sweep the floors, count the cash, print the receipts, set the alarm—making deliberate memories of each step as if I might never get to do these things again. It was stupid and overly sentimental, but for the first time since I’d taken Riker’s over from my parents, I confronted the existential dread of it possibly closing on my watch.  

The only person who could understand my dilemma was Ro, my next-door neighbor. Ro was the proprietor of Lotions & Potions, our town’s original metaphysical apothecary shop. Ro’s shop had been copied dozens of times as the rest of the city became trendy and gentrified, but no one could do lotions and potions like Ro. They were practically my third parent and an ever-present mentor and guide, especially in the last year since I took over the bookshop. They’d taken Vyner’s offer, and although I disagreed with their decision, I respected it. Ro was ready to pack it all in and retire. My hopelessness in the face of an eminent domain case tempted me to do the same.  

“Maybe I should take the offer,” I said plaintively. I punctuated my sentence with a hearty gulp of red wine. “I could reopen Riker’s in one of Vyner’s strip malls.”  

Ro waited for me to set my glass down and promptly slapped my hand. Lotions & Potions took on an almost otherworldly atmosphere after closing time, and I could barely see their face through the dim light and the wafts of incense smoke. “Stop being dramatic. You should do what I suggested all along.”  

I chuckled, and the buzz from the wine prolonged it into a melancholy guffaw. “Thanks, Ro. But somehow, I don’t think one of your herbs will save my shop.”  

“No, of course not,” Ro said, getting up from the velvet wingback chair. “The only person who can save your shop now is Vyner.”  

I finished off my glass of wine and started pouring another. Meanwhile, Ro clamored through a chest of drawers, mumbling throughout. Whatever they were looking for, they were having trouble finding it. I was halfway through my second glass when they returned with a small pouch in hand.  

“Here,” Ro said. “Just what I was looking for.”  

“Tea?” I said with a smirk. “Magical tea? What’s it going to do, turn him into a pumpkin?”  

“Read the instructions,” Ro said. “Carefully. If you’re clear in your intention, Vyner will be amenable to it.”  

I shook my head. “I appreciate the wine and the commiseration, but tea isn’t the answer.”  

“What do you have to lose? If it doesn’t work, hire a lawyer and fight Vyner in court. But it’ll be worth it if you can avoid all that trouble and expense.”

Vyner stopped by the following day just as his noontime deadline approached, and I summoned every ounce of politeness I had to invite him in and offer him something to drink. He wanted to get right down to business, but I insisted we have a chat first. He relented but looked at his watch every few seconds as I busied myself with brewing Ro’s tea.  

I watched intently as he took his first sip. He must have thought I was on drugs from the intensity of my stare. I didn’t care. I couldn’t afford to take any chances. I had read the instructions on the packet a hundred times and spent an hour constructing the exact words to get what I wanted out of Vyner. Now all that remained was to let it rip.  

As we chatted, both of us couching our words beneath a veil of politeness and business speak, I repeated the words I’d written silently to myself. You want to support my business. Closing down my shop is wrong. You want Riker’s Books to stay open.  

I couldn’t tell if it was working. Vyner seemed his usual hotshot businessman self. His cheesy grin and the way his belly stretched the buttons of his vest threatened to distract me, but I stuck to my script.  

“I’d like to help you,” he said, his voice fading into background noise as I focused on my internal monologue. “I really would. But the development deal is already done. If we didn’t proceed, millions of dollars would be lost, and people would lose their jobs.”  

You want to support my business. Closing down my shop is wrong. You want Riker’s Books to stay open.  

Vyner set his cup of tea down and adjusted himself. The way his palm grazed his bulge derailed my thoughts.  

Fuck, daddy. I want to get a face full of that beef. God, you’re such a sexy dad.  

Vyner continued to drone on. I wasn’t listening. My cock was thinking for me now, and I was happy to follow its lead.  

You dressed up in that suit and tie just for me, didn’t you, daddy? Damn, this older stud is exactly my type.  

At some point, Vyner stopped talking. I didn’t know how much time had passed that we sat in silence. My face flushed with embarrassment.  

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered.  

Vyner leaned forward and placed a meaty hand on my shoulder. He looked concerned. “Is everything all right, son?”  

I was confused. My head felt like it had been put in a juice press. I looked at Vyner’s hand and then back at his face. His dark green eyes stared directly into mine, and his kissable lips were slightly pouted. He moved in closer and groped my stiffening cock. I gasped with pleasure and surprise.  

“I think so,” I said and then hesitated. “I think so, dad.”  

My dad took his hand off my shoulder and placed it on the back of my head. He pulled me into a kiss, and his tongue explored the inside of my mouth. This was a strange new feeling, but I knew we had done it a thousand times before. I knew his body almost as well as I knew my own. Emmett Vyner was my dad.  

I broke the kiss. “Get on your knees,” I said, my chest swelling with confidence. I didn’t just own the shop. I owned my dad, too.  

“Yes, Son.” My dad knelt down. I could see his cock tenting his grey suit pants. My dad wanted me just as much as I wanted him. “I live to serve and obey You, Son.”  

I stood and pressed his face into my crotch, moaning in pleasure as my dad’s hot mouth worshipped my cock. He started to fumble with my zipper, and I stepped back.  

“Wait,” I said. “Go turn the sign to ‘Closed.’ Then we can go fuck in the stacks without being interrupted.”  

My dad enthusiastically got to his feet. Shop sex was one of our favorite pastimes. Sure, it probably cost us a few sales, but it was worth it. I slipped off my sweater and unbuckled my belt as my dad scrambled to the front door. In his haste to turn the sign, he accidentally pulled the door open, and I laughed as he slammed it three times to get it to close correctly.  

“Hurry up, dad,” I said. “My hard-on won’t wait forever.”  

“Right away, Son,” he said. Then, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he turned the sign. Vyner’s Books is Closed. Call Again Soon.  

I waited for him to return and pulled him by his tie into the stacks. He kissed a line down My bare chest until he reached My underwear. “Go for it, dad,” I said.  

“Yes, Son. Right away, Son.”

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[cockslutpadalecki]

Daddy Always Wins

Summary: Laura should know better than to hang out with the wrong crowd when her stepfather is the Sheriff in town.

Characters: Stepdad!Lee Bodecker x Stepdaughter!Laura (but can still be read as reader insert), mentions of Arvin Russell x Laura/Reader.

Words: 1858.

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, mentions of smoking marijuana, stepdad/stepdaughter relationship, stepcest, dub-con, age gap relationship (reader is 18), explicit sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), daddy kink, size kink, a little pussy slapping, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), cream pie, 18+.

A/N: Written for my wonderful friend and hoe @sweeterthanthis for her birthday. Lau, you have brightened my world so much, and I just wanted to give you this little gift as a token of my love for you, and what better way to showcase that adoration than with a little Lee filth?! That being said, this is my very first Lee fic, so please be kind. Beta: @msmarvelwrites but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. My work is my own, therefore I do not give consent for this story to be re-posted or translated to any other site. Subscribe to Patreon and get access to fics, just like this one, two weeks before Tumblr for as little as $3.

“Oh shit, cops a’comin!” One of the boys out front yells as the information still passes down through your group of friends like Chinese Whispers.

Several people hurriedly down the last of their beers, and a couple others, including you, take one last toke of your joints before stubbing them out on the grubby floor of the dilapidated cabin, kicking them under the threadbare couch to be rid of the evidence.

Nobody tries to flee. There’s little point in trying to hide in the forest— outrunning the cops would be a futile effort, especially when half of them know the woods better than any of you. 

Everyone falls silent as the engine of the car shuts off outside, followed by a creak of a hinge and a thud as the door slams. Heavy footfalls made by big clunky boots begin scraping along the bare floorboards accompanied by the rattle of keys. The sound is always ominous, but you’re used to it by now.

The footsteps get louder upon their approach, coming closer and closer until they stop in front of you and the boy sat beside you. His arm slowly moves from its place around your shoulder, and you know that all it takes for him to do so is one hardened look of the man standing in front of you, his intense cerulean eyes no doubt shooting daggers at the teenager. 

“Evenin’ Miss Brady… Mr Russell,” he eventually speaks, his thick accent broken by the slight pop of gum slapping against his lips, one that never fails to make your body clench while your mind screams at the betrayal.

“Evenin’ Sheriff Bodecker,” your friend Abigail coos sweetly from behind you. “What can I do for ya this fine night?”

“I’m not here to bust any y’all, I just came for my sweet little step daughter.” His voice is thick with disdain. If true contempt had a colour, you swear it’d be dripping red at your feet all over the cabin floor. “Y’see, her mama’s all kindsa worried.”

You finally glance up, locking eyes with the man standing above you, hands on his hips while trying to look authoritative.

“I told Mama where I was, Lee,” you quip, refusing to use his proper title or alternate moniker.

“I know, but it’s past curfew.”

“My curfew ain’t ‘til midnight.”

“Not on a school night it ain’t,” Lee returns. “C’mon, now before I hav’ta drag ya outta here myself.” He holds out a hand to help you from your seat, but you bypass his offer, choosing to push yourself up and off the couch without his aid. You let out a little frustrated sigh as you do so, and storm straight past the officer.

The night is cold— colder than you remember it when you left the house earlier. You hug your arms tightly as you wait for the familiar clomp of boots and jingle of keys behind you, giving your stepfather a stern look as he leisurely strolls around to his side of the car and gets in. He takes his time in unlocking the passenger door, grinning at you as you slump into the seat next to him.

“No wonder you’re cold dressed like tha’,” he comments, eyes trailing down your body and coming to rest on your bare legs. “Paradin’ around like the town whore.”

“Better not have my mama hear ya talkin’ to me like that, Lee.”

He scoffs. “Y’know your mama don’t care what ya do.” His tongue drags heavily across his bottom lip, his gaze now on your breasts as he leans over, breath laced with whiskey and tobacco. “And I thought I told ya t’call me Daddy.”

You scrunch up your nose in disgust as he turns the car on, and shifts it into reverse, hurriedly speeding back down the dirt path. Watching in the side mirror, the cabin is slowly swallowed by darkness as you drive away, but instead of heading right— back towards the highway, Lee veers off to the left, heading further into the belly of the woods.

“Where we goin’?” You ask, straightening up in your seat, watching the trees thin out as the Sheriff pulls up into a clearing and switches the car off.

He turns to you, tongue heavy on his bottom lip, and smirks. “Think we need to have a little talk ‘bout what you were doin’ with that good for nothin’ boy Arvin.”

“I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ sexual,” you tell him, uncomfortably tugging at the hem of your dress.

“You sure ‘bout that?” He eyes you harshly, fingers reaching out to stroke over your bare thigh. “He was sat awful close, had his little arm around you like it meant somethin’. You suck the kids’ dick?”

“No!” You recoil. Yes, you liked Arvin but you were just friends... for now.

“Good girl,” Lee praises, his breath hot and damp on your face as he moves closer, nose brushing against the skin of your cheek. “‘Cause the only cock you’re suckin’ ‘round here is mine.”

Your eyes widen at his words, distracted by the sound of his belt buckle snapping open, glancing down just as your stepfather pulls his half-hard length free. The tip weeps as he pumps up his shaft causing a groan to rumble deeply in his throat. Lee’s left hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, forcing you to bend your head in the direction of his lap.

“Lee, stop,” you contest weakly, putting your hands in front of you, and press hard against his thighs in an attempt to fight him off. 

“C’mon Princess,” he soothes gently in your ear, but you’re not in the mood for his pet names.

Gritting your teeth, you spit back, “Name’s Laura, not Princess.”

“Y’name’s whatever I say it fuckin’ is.”

As Lee tugs your head back up, he tuts sharply, breath hissing through his teeth as his voice comes out in a low, menacing tone.

“No point tryin’ t’fight me Princess, you won’t win,” he warns. “You never do.”

You sag against him at his words, all your resistance evaporating, knowing he’s right. In all the months you’ve caught yourself in predicaments like these, when have you ever truly, and successfully, managed to resist him? You’ve come to learn that Lee enjoys a little push and pull— a chance to exert his dominance, and over time, you’ve realised that you like it more than you let on.

The man forcing your head down towards his cock should disgust you, but you find yourself aiding him as your lips meet warm flesh, damp and sticky.

Moving your hand from his thigh, you slowly curl it around the base, tugging softly at his hardness as you suck down over the dome of his dick. Lee grunts above you, the grip of his hand at your neck tightening with each retreat of your mouth.

“Yeah, that’s my good fuckin’ girl,” he proudly flatters, his voice gravelly as the words breaking off into a deep growl when you greedily take him to the back of your throat.

Lee’s moans fill the cab, accompanied by the sounds of you slurping and gagging around his cock. For a minute you think he’s going to come as he falls silent, but instead he pulls you off, breathlessly ordering against your mouth, “get th’fuck in my lap.”

You quickly shift back in your seat and start to pull down your underwear when he grabs at your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Leave ‘em.”

Climbing over into the driver's seat, you nestle each knee either side of Lee’s thighs, and with deft fingers, he edges your soaked panties to the side as you feel his cock sliding through your pussy lips. He teases you, slapping the head against your clit, making sure you’re wet enough to take him and when he’s satisfied you are, he’s breaching your slick heat with a delicious, burning stretch. And even though it always takes time to accommodate him fully— your tiny cunt stuffed to the seams, it still feels like his cock is fucking made to fit inside you.

Whimpering into his open mouth, the Sheriff returns it— a deep, inhuman sound that travels down to your core, settling there in a rush of heat and chill. You start to move, rolling your hips first clockwise and then anti, just enjoying the way you can feel him swell inside you. Lee swears, the curse of your name on tumbling from his whiskey-tainted lips on a loop, fingers bruising the flesh of your thighs as he holds onto the little restraint he has left.

You giggle innocently, brushing your mouth against his as your stepfather cracks, furiously grabbing at your waist to hold you aloft.

“Enough fuckin’ teasin’ Princess,” he grunts as he snaps his hips, fucking into you so hard that the cruiser begins to rock from the force of his thrusts. You reach behind you— one hand poised on the steering wheel while the other grips at the shoulder of the Sheriff’s leather jacket, your blunt nails creating crescent moons into the black cowhide.

“Oh Daddy, fuck!” You squeal as he shifts beneath you, his cock hitting your cervix just... right.

Lee laughs, “That’s right, I’m y’fuckin’ Daddy.”

He drops you back into his lap, but his rhythm never falters, not even when he brings his thumb to your clit and starts driving you closer towards the precipice. The speed of the circles he traces over your throbbing pearl perfectly compliments the way he fucks you over and over without mercy.

“You gonna come for your Daddy, huh?” He asks, cobalt eyes still bright despite the darkness clinging to the air around you. You nod wordlessly, your response trapped behind your lips but as soon as you open them to let the words tumble free, they come out as pathetic whines.

Lee grabs the nape of your neck, pulling you towards him as he fucks you, now slow and impossibly deep, while his thumb continues to massage your clit. The intimacy between you is suddenly almost impossibly thick, and part of you is desperate to run from it, but you’re powerless like this. A victim of your own lust.

“C’mon, c’mon, gimme me all ya got,” he coaxes between breaths, and eventually the dam inside you breaks. Finding your voice, you wail and tremble in his lap as he fucks you through it, the sensation of your walls tensing around him urging him to succumb to his own.

With erratic thrusts, Lee spills hot inside you, painting your womb white with a strained growl. Your body sags against him as you catch your breath, feeling him still twitching inside you.

Eventually he withdraws, pulling your panties back into place. You feel his warmth trickle out of you and onto the cotton as he cups your covered mound firmly, smearing his wetness all over your pussy lips and small patch of curls at the top of your sex.

“Now ya gonna wear these all night,” he tells you, capturing your damp lips with his, before pulling away with a stark reminder, “Daddy always wins.”

***

ALL SS: @chamberofsloths @imanuglywombat @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @jensenswinchester @la-cey @otomefromtheheart @starlightcrystalline @sharp-cheekbones-locked @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @threeminutesoflife @xoxonotme

Forever: @amandamdiehl @becs-bunker @buttercandy16 @crashdevlin @castiel-has-bees @daughterofthenight117 @donnaintx @danneelsmain @dandywinchesterbras @dumbbitchenergy17 @death-unbecomes-you @doctor-hp-mcu @deangirl93 @doozywoozy @downanddirtydean @foxyjwls007 @gayasslookinass @hoewkeye @heyyouwiththeassbutt @hoboal87 @ilovefanfic86 @itsjustfics @itsthedoctah10 @imyournewfairygodmother @imcastiel-youassbutt @jewelswrites-ish @jenmisheels-bi-kid @joseyrw @letsby @letsdisneythings @multi-fandom-fanfiction @mogaruke @my-fav-imagines-17 @nightsbite @notyourtypicalrose @nik2write @onethirstyunicorn @pink1031 @princessmisery666 @petitgateau911 @randomparanoid @rattwritesfics @ssworldofsw @sambucky8 @sea040561 @sillygoose6969 @sweeterthanthis @softie-socks @slutformarvelmen @shindi-cryb4by @simpformarvelmenandwoman @pinkshenanigan @stoneyggirl @that-one-gay-girl @warriorqueen1991 @wonder-cole @xoxabs88xox @zpandaqueen @zooaliaa​

[yikesharringrove]

“Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, fuck, Stevie.”

Steve did a little spin, looking back over his shoulder at Billy, wiggling the little reindeer tail on the back of the body suit.

It was light brown, the tail fluffy and white.

The body suit had red garter ribbons that ended in bows, holding up white stockings.

He had put black makeup on the top of his nose and white little spots on his cheeks to match the tummy of the outfit.

“You know, I’ve never wanted to fuck a reindeer before,” Billy stood up slowly from the sofa, setting his book on the side table. “But I’ll fuck pretty much anything as long as it’s you.”

“I don’t think that’s the compliment you wanted it to be, Bill.” Steve clomped over to Billy, towering over him in dark heels. “But, this is for you. For Christmas.”

Steve pushed him to make Billy fall back onto the sofa, wasting no time to straddle Billy’s lap.

He was wearing a thin black collar with a silver bell on the front. Billy reached up to flick the bell.

“Best Christmas ever.”

He reached behind Steve, rubbing over his hips, grabbing his ass with both hands and spreading his cheeks apart.

Steve leaned in to press a few kisses along Billy’s jaw bone.

“I’m already prepped. But I know how much you love fingering me.”

Billy kept sliding his hands back, using one to pull the bodysuit to the side, the other running smoothly down Steve’s crack to push over his hole.

It was slick with lube and Billy’s first finger slid in with no resistance.

“How long it take you to get ready for me? You just use your fingers or did you use a toy?”

“I used a few toys. But I didn’t cum.” Steve tossed his hips back, grinding into Billy’s finger. “I want you to finish me off.”

“Of course you do, Sugar. You know only I can make you feel good.”

He pressed two more fingers into Steve, stretching him out on three.

He knew exactly what to do to make Steve tense and writhe and moan loudly into his ear.

“I want you to ride me, Baby.”

Steve’s hands were suddenly at his belt, opening up Billy’s jeans and pulling his cock out.

Billy had been hard since he first saw Steve in the lingerie, and Steve’s hand slowly pumping his cock was making him feel fucking desperate.

“Stevie, c’mon. Get on my cock, Sugar, please.”

Steve kissed his cheek, nosing slightly against him.

“Of course.” Steve grinned at Billy, and sat back on his dick.

He bottomed out completely, sitting his ass flush to Billy’s hips.

And started riding as fast as he could.

He was slamming himself up and down, Billy holding onto his ass as it bounced.

The bell on his collar was jingling in Billy’s ear, the sound driving him crazy in more ways than one.

He was clawing at Steve’s cheeks, the hot, wet fucking heat of his ass getting him embarrassingly close to cumming.

So he grabbed Steve’s hips, and stood up.

I’m one motion, he turned to the wall next to the sofa and slammed Steve against it, holding him up by his thighs, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of him.

Steve’s eyes were wide, the flush on his cheeks making the white spots stand out even more.

He snapped his hips up, fucking into Steve.

The bell was still ringing, but Steve’s moans were drowning it out.

He cried out each time Billy thrust up into him, hitting him in that perfect spot each time.

Billy bucked his hips harder, and Steve’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head, his mouth open as he fucking screamed Billy’s name, a little bit of drool running down his chin in a way that really shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

The front of the body suit got a little sticky wet spot where the head of his cock was trapped against his stomach as he came untouched.

His legs were tight around Billy, and he squeezed his cock so tight Billy’s pretty sure he blacked out.

But he kept moving and slamming into Steve, even as Steve went limp in his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Bill,” Steve murmured in his ear, pressing a sloppy wet kiss to Billy’s neck.

Billy let out a strangled yell that would’ve been embarrassing if he wasn’t pumping his cum deep inside of Steve.

He let Steve down carefully, and Steve stood on shaky legs, Billy keeping hold of his hips to make sure Steve was steady.

“I made sure this one was machine washable before I let you ruin it.”

“Half of that cum on it is yours, Stevie.”

[justkeepdancing-nemo]

"Jingles, I'm starving!"

Nemo declared this as he clomped down the stairs and spotted Jere there in the living room. He'd been there when Nemo came back from a dance rehearsal, having nipped hummingbird-quick upstairs to get a shower in. After, Nemo had done a couple things for class.

Jere apparently hadn't moved at all.

But hey, it was dinner time! Hopefully, Jere would be down for a break, right?

"You hungry yet? What are you working on?" Nemo continued curiously.

@jere-me--oh-my

Dinner Distractions || Neremy

[sukiglycerin]

it takes two || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, teeny bit of angst

* words: 1,647

* warnings: brief fighting scene (implied), swearing (duh), a lil bit of insecure katsuki but ofc comfort after, reader is mentioned to be in the hero business field, KATSUKI WEARS SHOES IN THE HOUSE !!! can you believe the audacity-

* original request:  Hello dear :)) Can I request a Bakugou x reader fic where he gets hit by a clone quirk and the clone is like the complete opposite of him, personality-wise, and Bakugou frequently loses his temper because the clone keeps hitting on his s/o I am sorry for bothering you :(

* a/n: you? bother me? never. actually, i’m sorry this took so long to complete! i’m hoping i can restart a consistent posting schedule soon. happy early birthday bakugou! this is my gift :) i hope you all enjoy~ i love @toishi for proofreading this T^T

it’s a lazy day for you. all you’ve been doing is sleeping, waking up occasionally to eat, and indulging in six different rhythm games despite your lack of rhythm, it’s a good day, snuggled up under the mountains of fuzzy blankets and squished in between soft pillows on your bed, your favorite song quietly playing from your phone on your nightstand. natural light fills your otherwise unlit room, curtains pushed aside to let the sun shine in her full glory. time is idle in this sanctuary of yours for only today; whether a minute or an hour has passed is something out of your concern. 

there’s nothing different when bakugou comes home, the jingle of keys and click of the door telling you that it’s him. he’s oddly quiet, though, and for a second you’re almost wondering why he hasn’t yelled “i’m home, dumbass!” before said blond peeks his head into the room. 

“hey, love,” he flashes a rare smile. it’s kind, like the soft light of the sun you've become so acquainted with. “i’m home.”

“hey?” you sit up, propping the pillows behind you so you can comfortably lean against the headboard of your bed. “you feeling alright?”

you expect a gruff reply of “the fuck are you talking about?” and a scowl, but get the opposite. a pleasant expression graces katsuki's face, which makes him look more handsome than usual. his hair almost seems tame this way. he’s also uncharacteristically clean; his costume is usually dirt-treaded and at least a little battered whenever he returns from hero patrol. now, though? his outfit is pristine, as if pulled out from a laundromat and ironed professionally. there’s a ghost of a frown on your lips.

"i'm lovely, now that i can see you." the line is spoken like a sappy confession from the male lead of a k-drama; you'd laugh if it wasn't for your utter confusion about katsuki's sudden change in demeanor. his facial expression is twisted in such a gallant way that it arouses suspicion in you.

you’re opening your mouth to reply when there’s a startling crashing at the front door. katsuki’s face falls into downhearted dread, as if expecting the intrusion. his reaction surprises you more than the intrusion itself. the door slams shut in the distance, rattling the house. the sound of boots clomping against the hardwood floor frightens you as you thrust your warm sheets aside (alas, they could wait) and reach for your bat under the bed. katsuki only stares at you, transfixed, and you feel the slightest urge to clobber him with the weapon. why isn’t he ready to fight? you’re up and approaching the doorway of your bedroom when you stop in your tracks.

“hey, fucker!” a loud, abrasive voice yells from down the hallway. “i found ya!”

you recognize that timbre in an instant, then turn to look at katsuki, still standing at your bedside, with a questioning gaze. he’s wearing an expression you never thought you’d see your husband have - his eyes are wide, mouth agape like a deer in headlights.

despite this vote of inconfidence from him, you pad forward slowly, bat gripped tightly and slung over your shoulder. you plunge forward, passing the doorway and glancing left. a shadowy figure stands five feet from you, its stature menacing. you swing blindly, but you bat is only met with more air. the figure is a little bit further now - damnit, it had good reflexes.

“you could still use some work on that swing,” it lowly chuckles and confuses you. you squint, trying to make out who in the world this guy thinks he is to comment on your swing. you gasp, faltering your grip on the bat. 

“k-katsuki? what?”

“got hit with a stupid clone quirk on patrol,” this katsuki grumbles bitterly, stepping towards you. he’s dressed in his full hero costume, green grenadier bracers a tight fit in the narrow hallway. “i apprehended the guy but my clone won’t stop following me around. it’s stupidly fast, too, whenever i try to catch it.”

“....and,” you start, “how do i know that you’re not the clone?” you pretend to inspect him close, eyes slowly trailing from the tips of his spiky, golden hair to his black combat boots. (oh, man, you were going to yell at him about wearing shoes in the house later.)

“don’t start this inception bullshit with me now,” he groans. 

“what’s katsuki bakugou’s favorite food?” you question, though you have no doubt that this katsuki is the real one. 

“anything spicy,” he bemoans. “now, let me-”

“that was an easy one.” you shake your head. “what was the first idea katsuki bakugou had for a hero name idea instead of lord explosion murder?”

if you were in better light, you’re sure you would’ve seen his cheeks flush pink. 

“mighty boom,” he mumbles. 

“sorry, what was that?” you tease.

“mighty boom!” he half-shouts, flustered.

“oh, okay, so you’re the real katsuki,” you say. “how do we defeat the clone?’

“according to the quirk user, it should disappear after two or three hours. but it can’t really do much harm, as long as it’s not in the sight of the user himself,” he says. “now let me at ‘im. he’s making a fool of myself.” 

he attempts to shove himself forward, but you stop him before he can see through the door frame. you glance at the clone, who’s looking at you with round, ruby eyes. he looks like a puppy with that innocent expression, and for a split second, you think that you actually might miss the calm, charming air of this katsuki. turning back to the real katsuki, who pretends not to notice the shift in your eyes, you exhale. 

“have at it, but take it outside first, please. i can’t have you tracking in more dirt.” you look to the dirt-ridden footprints behind him on the wooden flooring, sighing.

but in a flash he’s past you - wow, you really weren’t blocking him at all before, were you? - outfit a blur of black, green, and orange as he seizes the clone, slings it over his shoulder like it's made of air, and vanishes past you and out the door. he seldom leaves a trace of dirt, this time, smooth maneuvering himself outside while the clone bids you one last pleading farewell.

you hear blasting, yelling, and yelps, the lattermost presumably the clone’s, barely muffled from your position inside. your first thought wonders what the neighbors will think. you glance one last time at the tracks of katsuki’s boots then turn back to your room. he’d have to mop up that mess later. 

ten minutes and an eternity later, katsuki returns inside. by the pause at the front door, you figure one of two things: katsuki’s either taking the time to take off his shoes and put them away properly or staring at the filth he left on the floor. you’re hoping it’s the former. his footsteps are light as he goes to fetch a mop and clean the mess.

finished, he shuffles into your shared room and briefly looks at your comfortable position on the bed.

“what?” you whine. “hero business is hard. i needed a day off.”

this earns a laugh from the man, who’s in the process of removing his gauntlets and stowing them away. he shrugs off the rest of his costume, opting for much more comfortable attire and dropping his mask on a dresser. 

“how was your day?” you ask when he snuggles next to you on the bed. he’s sweaty and smells deeply of caramel, but you’ll nag him to shower later. the wear shows in his eyes and movement, sluggish after a long day of work. 

“good,” he mumbles, nuzzling into your warmth. “except for that clone bastard.”

you hum, joking, “he was charming, though.”

when he looks up at you with a vulnerable look in his eyes, you regret it.

“did you… really like him that much?” his voice is hoarse, scarcely a whisper. he averts his eyes, fiddling with the hem of your shirt sleeve.

“of course not,” you reply tenderly, bringing your hand to caress his cheek. he still can’t look you in the eyes.

“you know you’ll always be number one in my heart, right? even if you’re not the number one hero, you’re the constant in my heart.” you touch your chest, right over your heart. 

“y-you sure?” his words crackle like dying embers, inconsistent and unstable, flakes of lit ash that weakly dissipate into the atmosphere. a waning fire is still warm, though; with a bit of oxygen it can be rejuvenated, relit, and burn bright once again. 

“am i one to be wrong?” you ask him, and he faintly shakes his head. “i fell in love with you not for your looks, katsuki… i don’t want a disney prince. i want you, not some fairytale guy.”

“i yell, and i’m brash-”

you cut him off, chuckling, “and that’s what i love about you. you don’t-” you make a vague gesture with your hands, then drop them, unsure how to articulate your thoughts. “you don’t care what people think. you’re unapologetically… you.”

“you sure?” katsuki tries again. “that- that guy, that thing- you sure you don’t prefer a guy that’ll buy you roses with a note on the tag that says ‘you are the most beautiful flower in my garden’ in fancy cursive script on it?”

“do people really do that?” you frown. “i mean, i hope no guy does that for me-” katsuki exhales a breath of relief. you look at him questioningly but don’t press the issue. 

“i love you, katsuki,” you finish, “and no shitty clone will ever change that. ever.”

while he showers, katsuki’s thankful that he burned the roses from some secret admirer he found in your shoe locker during your high school days. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

"What do you think of the song?" For Nat

A long time ago, when Nat's life was very different...

"So?" Stephen turns to look at her, expectant. Behind him, the end of the commercial - still rough, editing isn't quite done yet - is frozen in time, a woman smiling and leaning against a doorway as she watches a Domestic happily helping her young children with a homemade-volcano project.

Renfro had really thrown himself into the role, and Nat found herself wondering if he’s naturally a bit of an actor, whoever he'd been before. He'd had to take his collar off for it - the focus groups were unsettled by the collars, and they were leaving them out of commercials to see if that would help the reception - and he'd been terrified at first, had required a lot of reassurance.

But once he'd settled and trusted her that he wasn't in trouble and they would take good care of him... he'd just nailed every single line.

"Nat? Miss Yoder?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Nat looks away from the image of Renfro's smiling face and back to Stephen's nervous hopefulness. "Oh, sorry. What, Steve?"

"Stephen," He corrects gently. Nat winces, but Stephen powers on without waiting for the apology. "What do you think of the song? Is it too cloying, maybe?"

Nat considers, and then slowly shakes her head. "No, I think it's perfect. You designed this commercial to really aim for Middle America, and look. I grew up in the Heartland. This'll play well there."

"Perfect." Stephen smiles brightly. "We're really looking to nail down those wealthy suburban markets, get them to see the investment. You know, you'd spend more paying a nanny for less devoted care, that sort of thing."

"Yeah, I think this is perfect for that."

"Good, good." Stephen clicks on the video, and it moves again, the final notes of the little jingle dying out as Renfro, acting as 'Mike' the Domestic caregiver pet, turns to look directly at the camera.

His smile is bright and brilliant.

"This is exactly what I wanted," He says, as the image fades out to a soft feminine voiceover about the investment in early childhood development and financing options.

Nat feels a trickle of unease down her spine, and carefully, pointedly ignores it.

Renfro doesn't know what life he wanted. He can't remember any longer.

"I'm going to go take my lunch," Nat says, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "I know it's early, but I want to pick up a treat for Renfro. He really went above and beyond on this shoot."

"Yeah, I definitely don't know if it'd work without him, he's just so good at this. Hey, here." Stephen digs into his khakis and pulls out a five-dollar bill, folded until it's nearly the width of a pencil. It's clearly been through the wash once or twice. He presses it into Nat's hand. "Pick him up something from me, too."

"Will do." Nat gives Stephen a cheery little wave and walks away, her sensible heels not quite clomping. She's never gotten the hang of heels.

Just below-ground, in the first floor where the demo pets live, Renfro will be in his room, probably reading one of the approved books and hanging out on his little bed. Still... he'll probably love a Snickers bar, or something that isn't the regulation uber-healthy meals they all get fed, just plain meat and vegetables and a piece of fruit here and there, along with multivitamins to swallow.

Nat wonders, idly, what kind of food he liked when he was someone else.

That bit of uncertainty settles inside her again, the prickle against her back, and she steps into the elevator and presses B1, telling herself she's just being silly thinking about any of the pets' former lives.

After all, it's not like they can think about them anymore.

[ill-skillsgard]

Faust x Faith - No Looking Back

Warning: 18+ smut, public sex, violence, blood, arson, implied death, mentions of non-consensual touching (nothing explicit and no r-words used,) mentions of stalking, unconsciousness, anti-religious themes, strong language.

Note: Hey, hey. I’ve wanted to write this for a while, but haven’t had much time. This isn’t based on any requests—just something I feel needs to happen to move the universe along. After this, I’ll be basing future FxF stuff off drabble requests instead of going story-heavy for a bit. Likes, comments and reblogs are suuuper ‘ppreciated!

Summary: - Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration - 3.6K words -

Faust makes good on his word to protect Faith, taking drastic measures to assure her assailant never bothers her again.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Thin raindrops pattered the man's leather jacket as he walked through the streets with his hood drawn up and his eyes low. For two days, the drizzle persisted and melted the black snowbanks into slush. Though the dismal atmosphere kept most inside, Sven had good reason to travel across town on foot. The promise of a girl's company waited at the end of his route, and he put off his regular nightly routine of masturbating to fetish porn for—what he hoped was—the real thing.

He glanced at his cracked phone screen every few minutes to check in with her, making sure she hadn't changed her mind, that she was serious. From the earnestness of her messages and the speed at which she replied to his questions, he determined she meant what she said about wanting to meet. Finally, his luck was turning. He’d show that miserable bastard Faust who was the better man.

- What abt ur bf? Lol

- What about him? Not here, is he?

- Thought u were a good girl.

- Haha, not really. Are you close?

- Ya. Y r we meeting at this random place?

- I need you to promise you won't tell a soul. If you can prove that to me, maybe we can keep meeting up.

- Lol ok. I PROMISE I won't say a word😉

- Thank you. Hurry, please. It's cold out!

- Be there in 5. I'll let u wear my jacket altho idk might not need it😉

- Hehe omgosh. You're making me blush.

- I'll make u do way more then blush baby. Just wait.

Sven lengthened his strides and turned the corner onto a hill leading toward the industrial area of town. Down the slope, he walked past several warehouses and legions of trucks parked inside barbed-wire fencing. It was a peculiar site to meet up, but his rendezvous insisted on a place nobody would think to look.

Betting his night would take an erotic turn, Sven popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed away the cigarette taste. He was seconds away from the spot she chose to meet, and his chest constricted with excitement. His boots crunched over gravel and garbage as he walked down a narrow alley between two faceless buildings. There was an open lot at the end of the lane, where he assumed she was waiting. As he made his way through the dimly lit alley, he whistled to make his presence known. The shrill tune reverberated off an overflowing dumpster to his left, and as he stepped to clear the reeking trash receptacle, something hard and blunt swung out at eye-level and flattened him to the ground.

Dazed and blinded from the sudden strike, he tried moving his mouth, but only a bubble of blood popped from his lips. A piercing stream of sound filled his ears as the edges of his vision turned dark. A large black figure came into view above, haloed by the soggy grey sky in the deepening veil. The featureless shadow chuckled deeply before a heavy boot's tread put out his lights.

~*~

Several hours passed before Sven's eyelids shuddered. By then, his assailant had had plenty of time to tie him to a wooden chair and organize his instruments of punishment. A headache blistered through the man's skull, throbbing in his eye sockets until he gained enough consciousness to open them. When he saw the person who had knocked him out, his throat closed and the gasp ripping through came out high-pitched.

"Faust... Please... Don't—" Sven hiccoughed. "Don't do this. I'm sorry. I'm SORRY!"

Faust, who had been facing the doorway at the end of a long red runner, turned toward Sven, holding a hammer's handle in one hand while cradling the head in the other. A malicious smirk peeked out from a curtain of black hair. He took a step forward, the clomp of his leather boots echoing through the church. Each step made a menacing sound that bit down on Sven's nerves and rattled his sensitive skull.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I know you hate me, but please, don't hurt me. I swear I'll never talk to her again!"

Faust approached, flashing the obsidian hammerhead. He tossed the tool in his grip and stuck his hand into his pocket, producing several five-inch nails.

"No! God, no, please! Faust! Don't do this!"

The black-haired giant stopped to admire the curve of the hammer’s prongs. Sven looked around the empty church and saw a jerrycan taking up space in a nearby pew. He immediately started struggling against the jute rope binding his wrists and ankles to the chair as Faust drew nearer, smile uncoiling.

"I already gave you the chance to never talk to her again. Remember?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry means fuck all to me. You should know that. The only reason you left the campsite with your dick intact is because of the witnesses," Faust said, then spun around with his arms out, showcasing their solitude. "Now, it's just you and me."

"Please don't," Sven muttered through swollen lips. "Fuck, I'll do anything!"

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing a sorry sack of human waste can provide this world to make me change my mind."

"SHE LIED!"

Faust jingled the nails in his jacket, reminding Sven who held the weapon.

"Whatever she told you... It's not true! I was at the party, but I didn't do anything to her!" Sven's voice cracked.

"Oh... So you didn't follow her into my bedroom?"

"No! I talked to her for a minute, and that's all. That's all, I swear, Faust. Don't kill me."

The stomp of boots neared the altar where Sven struggled in the chair. He twisted to loosen the rope and slipped one hand out. Faust grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the arm of the chair, readying a nail between his lips as he gripped the hammer. Sven let out a scream, stifled instantly by the hammerhead. Faust wedged the metal between his teeth and hissed.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll use this to smash your teeth out like a goddamn window. Understand me?"

Sven nodded and quaked as Faust placed the tip of the nail against the soft, flat part of his forearm.

"Stay still. If I fuck up and hit the Radial or Ulnar artery... You could bleed out before I'm done. Gotta get it right between the bones." Faust slapped the pale skin to reveal blue veins. He pressed the nail’s tip in place and rose the hammer above his head, bringing it down and stopping short of the head as Sven shrieked.

Faust cackled. "Jesus Christ, dude. Did you really think I was gonna nail you to a chair?"

Sven groaned, relieved and moist with cold sweat. "Faust, I'm serious. Please, man. You gotta believe me."

His dark laughter continued, bouncing off the high ceilings, the wooden pews and polished floors. As Sven let out his own nervous chuckle, Faust brought the hammer down in one swift pull, then slapped his hand over Sven's gaping mouth to stifle the screams. Howling, Sven rattled his head back and forth as a searing bolt of pain tore through his right arm, crackling in his shoulder where it burned and burned.

Faust tore his phone out of his back pocket and brought up a video, slamming the screen into Sven's face. The video of him grabbing Faith in his room while he was states away watching the live feed from the camera he'd set up on the desk.

"I knew these little cameras would come in handy. See? I know what you did, you stupid fuck. And you know what else? I would have just beat the shit out of you had I not stopped by your place before our little meeting."

Sven whined, tears pouring from his eyes in steady streams.

"Oh, yeah. That's right. I went into your room... Saw some interesting things on your computer. At first, I thought it was just standard fucking creep shit. Snuff porn, torture... Teen girls. None of that surprised me... Until I dug around and found your little stalker file buried in your folders. You didn't even encrypt it. How fucking stupid are you?"

"I'm sorry," Sven shook.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"I'm sorry for touching her. I should have left her alone."

"What'd you think was gonna happen? That she wouldn't tell me? Or that I wouldn't believe her? And now I know you've been following Faith around, taking pictures of her, you fucking predator. And what about those other women, huh? You sorry about them, too?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I know I have problems! I'm trying to get help. Please, Faust. If you let me go, I promise I'll do it. I'll get better. I haven’t hurt anyone!"

Faust shook his head slowly, grunting in refusal. "No. I meant what I said when I told you I'd crucify you if you went near Faith again. I'm doing the world a favour."

Sven hung his head and bled from the grievous wound pinning him to the chair, shuddering weakly from his injuries. Faust would never relent. He'd witnessed the drummer's cold disdain, the malignant hatred living inside that made him turn to the dark with open arms. Faust wasn't an actor. He pledged himself to the darkness with unyielding conviction, never one to take such things lightly. This realization depleted Sven's will to reason with the man.

Faust gripped another thick nail and drove it through Sven's left arm, smiling as blood dripped from the wood onto the church altar. The violent yelps filled Faust with morbid delight as he pressed the bloodied hammer under his victim's chin and raised his face.

"You're gonna die tonight, Sven."

"What makes you better than me? You'll be a murderer," Sven stuttered. "You hurt people, too."

"You and I are not the same. Don't ever compare yourself to me. You're a coward, and I warned you. Tread on what's mine, and I'll destroy you. That's what I said."

"All this over a girl? Are you fucking crazy!?"

Faust stooped to one knee, looking up at Sven as though the insult had cut him. Faust's brows arched, bottom lip jutting outward as he studied Sven, who closed his eyes. Then, Faust rose to his feet, leather stretching from the motion. Faust tapped his chin, smiled, and leaned over to whisper, "yes... Totally fucking crazy."

With a powerful kick to the chest, Faust sent the chair and Sven toppling backward. He then unzipped his pants, pulled out his manhood and giggled as he emptied his bladder on the weeping man. While Sven cried and moaned, Faust closed his zipper, whistling merrily. He left Sven on his back and snatched the jerrycan from the pew, taking slow, calculated steps while twisting off the cap and dousing the altar in gasoline.

As the gas trickled, Sven's desperation mounted. He could not flail, so he screamed. Faust gently reminded him what he'd do to Sven's teeth if he carried on shouting. The pinned man blubbered and begged, but Faust ignored his pleas. Inside his head, all Faust heard was the sound of flames rushing into a circle around Sven, crackling over the carpet and up the old church's wooden beams. By the time the roof caught fire, Faust had planned on being long gone.

"Please, Faust... You'll regret this! I know you're a serious person, but this is too far. You won't be able to live with yourself!"

"Wrong. I couldn't live with myself knowing I let a vulture like you walk this planet freely." Faust poured a trail down the floor runner, far away from the altar. He tossed the can aside and looked up at the Catholic saints' stained-glass portrayals and Jesus at the center of it all, staring down with sad eyes. Faust took a book of matches from his pocket and ripped one from the bunch, running its tip across the ignitor strip until a small flame burst to life. Faust flicked the match to the ground without a second thought, and the flame ate up the gasoline trail swiftly. The church was illuminated, and the colourful glass windows came to life. Faust raised his eyes to the forlorn Jesus and leered while the fire spread.

He did not stay to admire his work or revel in the cries of a man burning alive. Faust fled before the fire consumed the church, not once looking back or wondering if his victim had somehow escaped. He trudged through puddles of slush, hair swinging in the wind, white shadows of breath leaving his mouth.

It was time to get back to finish the tour. But he had one more stop to make.

~*~

Faith left the mall after helping close the book store. She received small smiles and nods from the mall staff as they locked doors and unfolded security gates. Some of the people she had spoken to before, and some she had only seen in passing. Though she returned their pleasantries, inside Faith was fretting. She tried not to worry about her boyfriend or ask where he was under strict orders to go about her day as usual.

She stepped into the evening air as the sun sank, taking the blue from the sky along for the descent. Wisps of white cloud stretched across the pink and violet above. Faith took in a deep breath and walked to the bus stop situated between a movie theatre and a dollar store. She popped her earbuds in and turned on a song that reminded her of Faust; one he wouldn’t like. His music taste had no room for the upbeat indie rock she enjoyed. Still, she smiled when the lyrics reminded her of him.

The scent of cigarette smoke caught her attention, and she looked around, finding no culprit. She wondered where the smell came from if nobody was around but soon forgot when the city bus appeared in the distance. It had to make a long trek around the parking lot before it pulled up at the movie theatre. Faith readied her bus card to scan as another cloud of smoke enveloped her senses.

Faith whirled around, and there he was, all black and leather, white teeth clutching the filter of a cigarette. Faust smiled, his words bolting from his mouth as she clamped her arms around him and crushed her face into his chest. The leather and musk brought tears to her eyes. She ripped out her earbuds and tried not to weep.

He hushed her, lifted her off the ground and retreated into the shadowed alley between the theatre and the store. By the time the bus pulled up, Faust had pressed her against the brick wall behind the building.

"Faust. Oh my gosh, where have you been? I was so worried," Faith gasped.

"Sh, don't ask questions, baby." Faust smothered her mouth, holding her thighs around his waist.

"Mm—I love you. Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here! I love you so freaking much."

"I know you do," Faust breathed against her lips. "I love you, too, babe."

"Tell me where you've been!"

Faust shook his head and kissed her neck instead. She raked her fingers through his hair, knocking his hood down so she could see him unobstructed.

"Told you... Don't ask... Mmkay?... Stop asking... Just let me... Mm—fuck!"

Faith pulled his pelvis inward with her thighs, rubbing against his crotch and the heavy bullet belt wrapped around his hips. In their cloud of lust, Faust pushed his black jeans down just enough to free his erection.

"Fuck, I love your little skirts. Makes it so easy," Faust murmured.

The thought of Faust showing up disquieted her, but his lips on her skin and his desire thwarted these anxieties for a while. She set aside her questions, happy to have him in her arms again and overcome by arousal. When he stretched her panties aside and pushed into her, they both froze in expressions of excruciating ecstasy. Faust tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and Faith clutched his shoulders, already writhing from the intense fulfillment between her legs.

Just as she thought Faust might drop her, he bent his knees and hoisted her higher up on the wall. In his arms, she weighed close to nothing. She missed feeling tiny against him.

"Miss my cock?" He growled in her ear.

"Yes, baby. Oh my gosh, of course, I missed it. I missed my big man."

"Yeah? Fuck, I miss my little pussy," Faust breathed. "Mm, show me those gorgeous tits."

Faith unbuttoned her work polo and stretched the collar down around her breasts for Faust to bury his face. Though there wasn't an abundance of flesh to lose himself in, Faust shivered from the first taste of her nipples. With muted groans of pleasure, he rammed into her until Faith could no longer contain her cries, unaccustomed to his girth. Faust absorbed her whimpers with his mouth, coaxing her tongue until she only hummed.

He felt ferocious from the last twenty-four hours. If he could make Faith scream without drawing attention, Faust would have slammed her into the wall and fucked her until she shredded her vocal cords. He had to keep a low profile. Even visiting Faith was a considerable risk, but one he relished taking as she clamped her thighs and rutted against him.

He supported her ass in both hands and shifted off the wall to fuck her standing up. While he took her this way, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered, whispering, "yes, fuck my pussy hard, big boy. Oh, I love that big cock inside me."

Faust unhooked and held her out so he could watch her breasts jiggle with every bounce. "You still taking your birth control? I'm gonna fucking bust so hard inside you, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, do it. Fill my pussy, please. I want your cum."

Her dirty talk and sweet sobs for his cock pushed him over the edge. He cradled her head as he pushed her against the wall and throbbed between her legs until empty. Faust pulled out and immediately turned her around and bent her over to watch globs of fresh cum dripping from her wet slit. He used one finger to push some of it back inside and had her suck off the rest. Afterward, he pulled up his pants and compressed her against the wall, one hand over her mouth while the other worked her clit in gentle circles. Faust didn't stop until she squealed and shuddered against him, muffled in his jacket and writhing from the manual orgasm.

When Faith calmed down, he released her and stepped away, pulling a cigarette from the squished pack in his jacket pocket. The lighter's flame created an orange halo around his face and promptly died. He smoked like nothing had happened while she fixed her skirt, buttoned her polo and zipped up her coat.

Faith smiled up at her lover, the night blotting out most of his features.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said.

"Not for long," Faust exhaled.

Her heart quivered. "Wait, what?"

"I gotta go back."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"What? No! But... You just got back," said Faith.

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket speaking for him. The evening matured, consuming the details of her hurt expression until the streetlamps along the road came to life.

"Why did you come here?"

Faust took one last long haul off his cigarette and flicked it down the alleyway. "Listen to me, Faith... You need to quit asking questions. I'm serious. The more questions you ask, the worse it'll be. And you and I did not see each other tonight. As far as you know, I'm on tour. Understand?"

"Yes," Faith said to appease him.

"I want to stay, trust me. But I can't. You know why. All the answers you want, you already have. Don't keep bugging, don't mention it ever again."

"I want to go with you," she whispered.

"No. You stay. Go to your classes, go to work, go visit your parents. Everything normal. And I don't want you moping around either. You put on that pretty smile, and you pretend for me. I'll call you in a couple of weeks before the last show and arrange a way for you to get there."

"What do you mean you’ll call in couple of weeks?" Faith whined. “What about goodnights?”

"I don't have a phone anymore."

"Why—? Oh, um... Okay. I understand."

Faust gathered the girl up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Good girl. I love you, and I miss you."

"I love you, too."

He tipped her face up and sensed tears forming in her eyes. Faust shook his head. "No crying. We'll see each other very soon. Just a couple more weeks."

"I know," she sighed.

"I love you more than anything, Faith. Now, go catch your bus. Should be here in a few minutes."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm on tour. I'm not even here," he explained.

Faust kissed her again, smoothed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face the bus stop. He urged her along. "No looking back. Hop on the bus and go do your schoolwork."

"Okay," she said, determined to make him proud. Faith walked out of the shadows and into the lamplight hovering over the depot. Across the lot, the city bus pulled in, and though she longed to turn around to see Faust watching over her, she kept her eyes forward and waited. When the bus pulled up, and the doors drew back, she stepped onto the platform and smiled at the driver as she scanned her pass. Faith took a seat in the back and put in her earbuds. She searched through a list of bands and selected the only one whose logo was illegible. As she pressed play, she listened to the immediate assault of the drums, their constant and violent beat. Faith smiled—warm in her chest and between her legs.

[ourgalaxiescollide]

“Riake, please calm down..” *A distressed plead came from Aaron’s mouth.*

*Callahan stopped on the stairs, pausing in a mix of awkwardness and curiosity. The faint sniffles and quickly choked sobs caught his attention. A familiar hoarse voice speaking up through gritted teeth.*

“I’m done, just done! I’ve tried everything to help— I’ve done everything I can do to help but all I get is a fucking attitude in response!” *A choked cough follows her words. Aaron murmurs a plead.*

“I’m tired of being used, Aaron. I-,” *Riake shudders out a breath, hooves clomping against the wood as her voice gets farer. “I just wanted a simple life, but I dont know if I want one at all.”

*The jingles of a door opens before quickly shutting once more, leaving the door bell to echo throughout the room.

Callahan slowly steps down from the stairway, turning the corner only to be met with the hunched figure of Aaron. He leaned against the counter with his head in his hands. The boy was mumbling but Callahan couldn’t make it out.

Aaron’s ears twitch at his sound and looks up, catching Callahan’s eyes.*

“C-Callahan…” *He starts, eyes filled with guilt and concern.*

<continuation 2>

"I, no, it's." *Callahan stammered, whimpering a bit as his injuries were jostled.* "Wait, wait, stop." 

*Aaron immediately dropped his hands from the bards shoulders, apologizing profusely as he took a step back. Callahan breathed a sigh of relief, holding his head gingerly. Once the world slowed down, he shook his head slowly.* 

"They're not supposed to be cut." *he stated plainly.* "It's disrespectful, demeaning, a-and it hurts." 

*Callahan shuddered at the memory of the first time his horns had been cut as a child. Compared to that time, this last cutting had been downright enjoyable.* 

"Any tiefling that has their horns cut is considered weak. Less than. They, they are gotten rid of." *he whispered, explaining it as simply as he could.*

"Oh." *Aaron blinks at the explanation, eyes widened by a harsh truth he wasn't expecting.*

"That's a bit much, don't you think?" *The tiefling asks with a tilt of his head, lips pulling back into a confused grimace. Yet it didn't seem to be directed at Callahan*

*...What?*

*Aaron seems to cringe at the thought, shoulders shrugging as if to get the dramatic idea off his shoulders. He didn't seem to keen on that train of thought.*

"Pops always said that you're not your appearance. That if people use what you look like as a way to sort you into negative boxes, then they're the ones who deserve to be in those boxes."

*The man huffed out the words, chest puffing out in pride as he reiterates his dad's words to him. Both his mom and dad weren't Tieflings, they were gnomes! A very lovely and kind set of gnomes that took him in when no one else would.*

[stylesrecord]

jingle bell ball fit always confuses me on how it was a shirt and trousers instead of a jumpsuit esp considering how much harry was clomping around like he did