#how the hell does that book stay on his side belt

[knightlysong]

the cutest little bro

[whiteskullofroses]

Noch einer!

(Dieter Hellstrom x reader)- slight nsfw

A/N: Man idk, it's 1 am and Dieter is baby girl. I don't support nacizm/any of this man's ideologies. Enjoy!

🍻 Imagine being a Yugoslav Partisan camouflaged as an SS officer, when attending a nazi meeting in the basement you meet Dieter. After a few too many shots you slip up, but luckily he is too busy thinking about you rather than the things you say.🍻

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The room was getting louder and louder with every second running by, yet you didn't budge. At least on the outside, on the inside though, you were on fire. The gun on your belt looked lovelier with every nazi that walked in and sat down at the table you were sitting at.

You couldn't believe that you approved of this "genius" plan The Basterds came up with. No matter how stupid it seemed, there was a possibility it could work and you wanted nothing more than to have these Schwabs out of Europe and sent straight to hell where they belonged.

The SS uniform felt too tight and uncomfortable, you tapped your black boots against the cold cement and silently cursed every officer that came in the basement, however, you decided to busy your mind with something else and stretch your legs. You got up, lit a cigarette in between your middle and pointer finger, and noticed the gramophone hiding behind a wall. Just as you noticed it, it stopped playing. Walking up to the gramophone to restart it, your eyes noticed a figure in the corner.

The yellow light from the candle lit up the left side of his face.

The SS officer was reading a book and drinking beer. The more you stared at him, your mind forgetting about the music, the more attractive he looked. "No, Y/N this isn't right," you said to yourself: "I shouldn't pray on men today, especially nazis."

Without realizing he was staring right back at you until he finally spoke: "Fräulein? Was ist los?" You broke eye contact and didn't reply.

He took a deep breath and closed the book, his hand patting the sit next to him, gesturing for you to sit down.

Your heartbeat quickened, the tension was unbearable and not in a good way.

"Y/N, do not show any compassion to him, his people are killing yours on the lines out there, he doesn't deserve it." Were the only thoughts running through your head the whole time you were slowly walking up to his side.

But for now, you had to be an actress to stay alive. His cologne smelled nice. That was the first remark you truly noticed about him, besides his amazing looks. "Wie heißt du, Liebling?"

"Liebling? Hah," you thought: "what an attempt to get me flustered."

"Erika Shauenberg."

It wasn't your real name, of course.

"Zigarette?" the man asked you, smiling. His smile wasn't bad either, in fact, he was the most perfect man you've ever seen.

"Why does he have to be a piece of shit?"

Your cigarette from before burned up by itself without you even putting it in your mouth. He really got you distracted so much that you forgot to smoke.

Nodding and taking one out of the box you thanked him: "Danke."

With one slick move, he pulled out a lighter and lit it. German cigs tasted different than the Yugoslav ones, but for the time being, they were good enough.

"Oh!" He remembered: "Es tut mir leid, dass ich vergessen habe," putting one in his mouth as well: "mich vorzustellen."

Blowing smoke into thin air: "Major Dieter Hellstrom."

Dieter? What an extraordinary name.

"Erik!" Dieter called out to the waiter as he approached our table. "Scotch, zwei Gläser!"

Grinning, he leaned closer to you and half whispered: "Erik hat eine Flasche Jahre alten Whisky aus dem schottischen Hochland-"

"Would you mind if we continued in English?" You interrupted him: "I was raised in France as a German kid." Tapping your cigarette on a black ashtray: "I never learned proper German because my father, well..."

Think Y/N! Think!

"He was killed in combat and my mother died from the flu when I was only 5 years old." Putting on a sad face you sighed: "I was given to a foster family in France."

"Where?" Dieter wondered.

"Menton."

"Ah, Erik!"

The waiter brought the two of you your drinks and left the scotch bottle on the table. Amazing, this was going to be a long night.

However, in reality, you couldn't complain about being in his company. Yes, he was a nazi, and yes you hated nazis, but damn was he charming.

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1 hour later....

You've never had this much fun in your life. How many shots you drank, how many cigarettes you smoked? You didn't care, and neither did Dieter. He was just as shitfaced as you.

You both laughed at each other's stories from the past.

"Noch einer, Liebling?"

"Ja, bitte!"

As he took your glass to fill it up, you watched the golden liquid splash on the table as the bottle slipped from his hand. You quickly picked it up, slightly touching his hand while leaning over the table to reach it, and laughed out loud.

"You know this reminds me when I lived in Yugo-"

Shit. No no no no no!

"Yugo? What Yugo?" he looked at you, his eyes glassy, gazing upon your face.

You swallowed hard: "Yugo? Yugo! Ah, yes!"

Think Y/n, think!

"Yugo's apartment .."

Good job Y/n

"We dated in highschool."

It was quite impressive how your foggy brain could still have such a wild imagination.

For a second he looked at you and said:

"You're aren't German, are you?"

Silence

You simply started at him and ran over the words he just spoke.

He said it's so effortlessly, his drunk tongue didn't slur one word in that sentence, as if that didn't mean that you were about to die. There was no solution in getting out of this. You do not have any evidence that you in fact were German, nor that you lived in France! Hell you don't even know France that well at all! You were pretty sure these were your last moments alive before his pretty German pistol would shoot you in the head and leave you for the rats feast on.

Suddenly the clock on the stone wall behind you started ticking slower, your heartbeat sped up and your palms got sweaty.

Meanwhile, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His left hand was in his pocket the whole time, swiftly he pulled his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your face, to your surprise he didn't press a gun to your lips, he pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you.

To be continued...

[burnedbyshoto]

indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch​ thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable. 

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits. 

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions. 

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart. 

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words. 

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll. 

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag. 

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom. 

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty. 

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list. 

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

.

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them. 

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

.

.

.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed. 

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

.

.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that. 

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety. 

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

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“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker. 

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now. 

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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently. 

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking. 

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave. 

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto. 

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on. 

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say. 

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

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Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

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It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home. 

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped. 

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

.

.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out. 

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty. 

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late. 

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening. 

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it. 

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding. 

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away. 

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

 “You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking. 

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice. 

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach. 

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name. 

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position. 

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good. 

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark. 

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan. 

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely. 

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good.  Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed. 

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly. 

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room. 

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down. 

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?” 

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response. 

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth. 

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?” 

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks. 

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip. 

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth. 

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input. 

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips. 

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries. 

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more. 

Intensifying. 

Exhilarating. 

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you. 

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck. 

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

.

.

.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

.

.

.

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning. 

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

[thedarkcoven]

Devil's Affair | Darkiplier OneShot

Warning: Cheating. Talk of abuse (from husband). Making a deal with a demon. Slight BDSM. Master/Pet. Vaginal Sex. Spanking with hand and belt. Rough sex. Slight Daddy Kink. Collar and leash. Consensual name-calling/teasing *ex: whore, slut, cum slut,*. Just... hardcore feral sex. Inspiration for fic Song 1 Song Two Song Three (Forgive me for my music choice #1 cause I love metal, rock, alternative music along with others lol my music taste is everywhere. I may look like a cute cuddly princess but my music screams satan xD)

You rested in the tub, the warm water nice against your bruised and sore body from the assault you just endured earlier from your husband. Tears streaked your face as his words played in your head of calling you every bad thing in the book. You wished you could escape from here and never come back but that would never happen and could never happen. Or so you thought. "Please... if there is a God just, please. Make this nightmare stop." The water dripped from your body, coating the tile of the bathroom floor as you walked over and looked at yourself in the mirror. "So fucking pathetic.." You sighed out, dropping your head. "Pathetic? You humans are, yes, but you? Oh, sweet Y/N. YOu just need help." A man's semi-deep voice like silk made you freeze. You slowly looked up and saw a caramel-skinned man; a loud ringing in your ears as you noticed what seemed to be blue and red with a dark aura surrounding him. "Who the fuck are you and get out!" In the blink of an eye, he was chest to chest with you, his face close to yours with a purr. "The name is Dark. I heard your troubling calls. Did I not?" You swallowed harshly as you stared up into his brown eyes, letting out a shiver as he ran a finger up your side and over your breast until his hand was softly placed against your chest, barely gripping your throat. "I-I did... But what the hell are you going to do?" "Tell me what he does to you." He said sternly, his nose flaring as he clenched his jaw. "So I know what to not do to you. Because... I'm going to do whatever you please on one condition. I get to do the same." "Wha-What is that suppose to mean?" "I am going to get him out of your life. Help you escape. Or is that not why you called me?" "I-It is wh-why I called you, sir." The corner of his mouth turned upwards as his eyes took in the sight of your naked form. "Good pet. Already so obedient for your master. Bed. Now." You nodded and obeyed. Scurrying to the bed before you could anger him. Once you have done so he undoes his belt and holds it behind his back. "Open your legs for me, kitten. I wanna see how tasty my feast will be." You began to blush but did as was told, looking away shyly as the cool air of the room brushed against your folds. Dark smirked as he walked over, placing the belt on the bed beside you and running his hands along your thighs, squeezing the flesh firmly. His mouth was practically watering at the sight of you. "I-I um.. I'm-." "Married. I know.. but he doesn't deserve such beauty. He harms you." He leaned over you, his nose brushing against yours as his hand settled against your pelvis, thumb slightly pressed against your clit causing you to gasp. "There we are. Let me hear those beautiful noises." "Ah! I-I.. fuck..." You threw your head back and closed your eyes tightly, gripping the sheets. "Tell me how good it feels. Don't fight it. Cave into your desires, pet. Give your master what he wants." You moaned loudly as his middle and ring finger rubbed against your entrance before pushing them into you. "O-Oh fuck. Sir, please. I-it feels so good. So so good." Your eyes fluttered open, landing on his dark ones that were full of lust and need. "Good. Stay still and no touching me unless I say you can. Hands above your head." You nodded and did as told, holding your hands above your head and gripping your pillow. Dark smirked as he kissed down your body, his mouth teasing your nipples before moving further down, his tongue moving slowly against your folds. Small whimpers could be heard as you arched your back. He chuckled against your core and kept licking and sucking while he worked his fingers expertly inside of you, rubbing against your special spot. You cried out as a hand shot down, gripping his hair. The air changed, static and louder ringing surrounded you as he flipped you over onto your tummy, bringing a hand down against your ass. Dark smirked as you moaned, grinding your hips back at nothing at his assault. "I-I'm so sorry, sir." The jingle of the belt

could be heard, signalling that he took it in his hands. A shiver ran through you as he rubbed your ass softly before bringing the belt back and giving you five spankings. "You're mine... not the other way around. You listen to me and you get a treat. You don't listen then you get a punishment. Understood?" You nodded and kept looking down at your bed. "Good. Now. Since this is your first time with me... I'll forgive you." He tossed the belt to the side and peppered kisses up your back. With the snap of his fingers, a collar and leash appeared around your neck, the leash in his hand. "Now... Relax for me, kitten. Daddy's 'bout to ruin that tight little hole of yours." Your mouth hung open at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your fold, making the length and head slick with your wetness and before you could relax he plunged himself deep inside of you. He growled, baring his fangs as he pulled on your leash slightly before wrapping it around his hand. You moaned out, clawing at the bed at the feeling of him stretching you, the tip of his cock resting against your cervix. Dark twitched inside of you as he began to move his hips, slamming into you without mercy. "Fu-Fuck! I-I can't handle it, sir!" He let out a dark chuckle at your cries, snapping his hips up into yours to let his cock rub against your spot making you shake. "Of course you can. You're my good little human. You're takin' me so good right now. Gonna be my little cock slut for eternity. I'm gonna ruin you over, and over, and over again." He moaned, growling like an animal as he moved his free hand between your legs to rub your clit as he plowed into you; the room filling with cries of pleasure and wet sounds of skin on skin. The sounds were lewd and made your face red with embarrassment but the feeling was quickly taken over by your oncoming orgasm. "I-I'm cumming. Pl-please. Don't stop. Don't stop." He moaned at your pleas. His fingers not letting up on your clit as he brought you closer to bliss. When you let go you saw white as a cry left your lips, your body shaking harshly underneath him. "That's it. You're so cock drunk from a demon's dick. Not even he could bring you such satisfaction. My beautiful little whore aren't you?" He hummed in satisfaction, kissing your neck softly as you nodded. "Yes, sir." He smirked and held you close, moving his hips in a teasing manner. "What the fuck is going on here?!" You froze and looked over the door to see your husband standing there, face red with anger. "Showing your wife how a real man treats his woman." Dark growled, his eyes flashing black.

[scuttling]

Mega Thread Count Sheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,395 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Possessive Hotch, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Masturbation, Come marking, Unprotected sex, Manhandling, Rough sex, Breeding kink, Dirty talk, Established relationship, This really got away from me Summary: Aaron and his girlfriend spend the night at Rossi's after a family dinner, and some of her comments earn both discipline and reward. (+Hotch calling the reader 'pet' rights.) Link to A03 or read below! It’s Friday night, and everyone gathers at Rossi’s for a family dinner—it’s homemade gnocchi, so good she could inhale her plateful and Aaron’s too, and the wine is flowing, funny stories are being told. After dinner, she sinks against Aaron on the sofa, warm, happy, laughing at JJ’s high school antics; they aren’t drunk, but cozy and sleepy enough that when it’s time to leave, neither of them really want to drive home.

“You can stay here if you want; I’ve got plenty of space,” Rossi says, and she’s not sure, because she’s wearing a short little sundress, has been teasing Aaron pretty hard tonight, and she imagines he’s got some plans for them when they get home.

“Okay; thanks, Dave,” he says, surprising her, and he excuses himself for the restroom while Rossi goes to get everything set up. Aaron returns before Rossi, and she leans up to give him a kiss.

“He’s putting us up in a guest room in the other wing. The other wing. He’s so rich he’s got wings, what the hell.” She wraps her arms around Aaron’s midsection, hugs him close. “The absurdity of that aside, if we’re in the other wing, that means we’ll be far enough away that he can’t hear us… if we were to do something noisy, that is.” He leans down for a soft kiss; she knows he won’t give her more than that, since Rossi is still nearby.

“Are you planning to be noisy?” he whispers, and she looks down at his lips, briefly, and back up to his eyes.

“Aren’t I always?” He looks at her like he wants to devour her, and she’s totally on board with that plan, but then Rossi strides in and they both pull apart. He points them to their room, down the hall, third door on the left, and then says goodnight, heads down the opposite hallway to his bedroom.

She and Aaron walk down the hall, passing paintings and artful knick-knacks that probably cost more than her car. “He made all this money writing books?”

“He sure as hell didn’t make it at the FBI,” Aaron says with a chuckle, and she whistles.

“Damn, I need to start writing books. Maybe like a Fifty Shades type thing, about you and me.” She makes her voice breathy and low and ridiculous. “He’s my super hot superior, and I know it’s wrong, but just thinking about getting on my knees for him makes my innocent cunt quiver with anticipation.” He glances over at her with his eyebrows raised.

“I can make your cunt quiver.” She grins.

“I know you can.”

When they enter the room, it’s gorgeous, if a little extravagant, made up in gold and cream and crimson, like something in a castle and not a place just outside DC. She brushes her hand over the pillows, because they look soft, and then she pulls back the corner of the blanket, slips between the sheets, still fully dressed.

“Oh my god, these have to have a thread count of like, two million,” she says, wiggling her bare thighs back and forth against them. Aaron huffs.

“I buy us high thread count sheets.”

“But do you buy us ultra high thread count sheets?” she asks, still wiggling. “Mega high thread count? I think these are mega high thread count.” He sits down beside her, runs his hand over the sheets, frowns.

“They’re not that nice. They probably aren’t even Egyptian cotton, and you love the Egyptian cotton,” he counters. He sounds a little... off. It makes her wonder what’s on his mind.

“No, they’re probably like… Roman cotton, or Calabrian cotton. Something super Italian and decadent.” She arches her eyebrows, and he pulls back the blanket and sheet, so he’s presented with her body; he kneels around her legs, hands on her waist. Her breath picks up.

“Naughty girl. Are you trying to make daddy feel bad? Like he doesn’t fucking spoil you enough already?” He takes her wrists in one of his hands and pins them above her head, pushes up her dress over her hips with the other. He sighs deeply, closes his eyes briefly. “You’re not wearing panties, pet.”

She licks her lips. She’d actually forgotten all about that. “I took them off earlier.”

“When? Why?” he asks, eyes stern and making her squirmy. She resists against him a little, just for the fun of it, and he holds her tighter.

“Before we left home. They were wet, daddy.” He leans in, hovers over her and moves her dress up further, bares her tits. She licks her lips again.

“Oh? Why were they wet?”

“Because I love you,” she purrs, and he catches her jaw in his hand, presses a crushing kiss to her lips. She groans into it, tries to roll her hips, but his knees on either side of her don’t allow it. “Daddy.”

“No. You mean to tell me my little pet was walking around here all evening with no panties on? In that little dress?” He takes his hands off her, and she pulls her wrists down, but he grabs them up again, shoves them over her head, and barks, “stay.”

He opens his belt, his fly, takes out his cock and then covers her wrists again; he tightens his knees around her hips, she can feel them digging in, and starts stroking himself, staring down at her face.

“Naughty little thing, prancing around here with a bare pussy. Don’t you know you belong to daddy? Don’t you know this pussy belongs to daddy?” He leans in so he can rub the head between her soaked lips, and again, she wants to buck up for more, but he won’t allow it. “You’re not coming, I’m coming. I’m coming all over what’s mine. And then, when I’m ready for more, I’m going to hold you down and use you, naughty pet, and if you’re good for me up until then maybe I’ll let you get off. Understand?”

She whimpers, struggles, but ultimately nods.

“Yes, daddy.”

He jerks his cock smoothly but quickly, wants to come fast, but he pauses to take her dress off completely, and then his own clothes; he probably realized these were the only clothes they have here, and doing a morning walk of shame covered in come stains is not a great look.

As soon as they’re naked, though, he grabs her wrists again, gets his knees on either side of her so she can’t move, and strokes his cock again. He’s watching her, his eyes set and focused on her face, and she’s watching him, his mouth and his hand and his thick dick disappearing inside his fist.

“You don’t like it when I don’t let you come, do you, pet? You don’t like it when I don’t let you touch me.” She perks up a little at being addressed—sometimes when she’s being disciplined this way, he gets himself off like she’s not even there—and she pants, squirms, and shakes her head.

“No, daddy, I don’t like that. I want to touch you, and I want you to make me come.” Her chest heaves, the only part of her that can really move, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “But I know you need to come on me first, daddy. I deserve to have to wait, because I was naughty.” Aaron grunts, and fists his cock more desperately. So fucking sexy.

“Yes, you have to wait, but you’re my good girl now. You’re behaving for me; I’ll make you come soon, after you’re covered in me.” Almost like he wills it to happen, he tenses, comes, makes sure to get some on her tits and stomach and pussy, covering her with thick ropes that have her drenched from the inside out. She moans like it’s her own orgasm, wanton and eager, and when he’s done he leans in to take her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss; he releases her wrists, and she sinks her fingers in his hair, pulls him closer, pants against his lips.

“Love you,” she says with wide open eyes, and he kisses her softly, brushes his thumb over her lips.

“Love you so much.” He lays beside her while he recovers—she’ll manage to get him hard again relatively quickly, but he does need some time in between—and gently drags one fingertip through his come, tracing abstract patterns, rubbing it over her nipples and around her belly button, up and down her aching, throbbing pussy. She wants so much more, but she’s good and patient, just the way daddy wants her to be.

After laying like that for a little bit, Aaron takes her hand and guides it to his cock, lets her wrap around him and touch him and bring him to full hardness, and she closes her eyes, hums, licks her lips. Touching him after so much time not being allowed to touch him gets her extremely aroused, her whole body sensitive, her mind hazy with pleasure. It’s the best kind of reward by far.

The slow, gentle part of their evening is abruptly over when he flips her onto her stomach, come-covered body face-down against Rossi’s pretty crimson sheets. Jesus. She moans so loudly she’s not sure Rossi can’t hear her, even from the other wing.

He gets the head of his cock inside her, covers both of her hands with his, and slams inside, repeatedly, earning whimpering, desperate moans as his speed and intensity increases.

“How do those sheets feel?” he coos in her ear, her cheek smashed into them, as he fucks hard against her ass; her body is bouncing on the bed with each rough thrust, and she whines, shivers.

“Fine, daddy, but—mmh, nothing feels better than you.” In truth, it feels amazing, but only because her belly and tits are still covered in his come and she feels like a dirty whore; only Aaron can make her delight in ruining Rossi’s expensive sheets, which is a complete asshole move by anyone’s standards, and also really gross.

“That’s right, pet. I might never have a mansion with multiple wings, but I’ll always take care of you. You don’t have to want for anything.”

“I know daddy. I don’t want for anything but you.”

“And what do you want from me now?” he asks, pounding harder and kissing her cheek softly. Things like these are what really get her off, the marriage of tenderness and roughness, the way he knows what to do to maintain the balance.

“Harder, daddy. Take me, daddy,” she pants, and he squeezes her hands and doubles down, wrecking her pussy, no doubt bruising her hips with his unyielding thighs pressed tightly against them. “Maybe…” She doesn’t continue, because it’s nothing they’ve discussed yet, but he moves his mouth to her ear and tugs on it with his teeth.

“Maybe what, pet? Daddy always wants to hear you.” She squeezes her eyes closed and whimpers, getting close. She hopes the idea doesn’t freak him out. They’ve only been dating for a year.

“Maybe try to put a baby in me, daddy. I’m on birth control tonight, but you could practice?”

Aaron loses his mind.

“Oh, you want daddy to put a baby in you? You want me to put my come deep and then fuck it deeper into you until there’s no doubt you’ll end up pregnant with my babies, pet?” His thrusts have been quick and harsh, but shallow, up until now, but he adjusts his knees to slide in deeply, fully sheathed inside her, rocking her body and making her ass shake. “You’ll take it so good, won’t you? You’ll let me breed you full of babies, one after another.”

“Fuck, yes daddy, breed me full daddy. Wanna have your babies, wanna be full of you, wanna be yours.” He lifts his right hand off of hers and puts it on the back of her neck, grips tight, and leans in to press his teeth against her shoulder, breathing harshly.

“You are mine. I’ll make sure you never forget it.” She won’t, couldn’t, never, babbles something to that effect and then comes seeing stars, howling his name, and daddy, and oh.

Aaron whispers her name, and sweet baby, and perfect little pet, and changes nothing, keeps drilling hard and deep while she whines and whimpers over being used like he’s using her.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he murmurs in her ear while he fucks her into the mattress. “Good girl making pretty noises on daddy’s cock; I’m going to put a baby in you, we’ll make a baby, a perfect little baby with your nose and my eyes, pet, promise.” She moans, wrecked, her hair frizzy, sweat clinging to her temples, and he comes with a grunt, moves his hands to her ass and spreads her while he spills inside, so he can be as deep as possible.

He pistons his hips a half a dozen times after, and then grinds slowly like he’s making sure she’s covered in come. It’s incredibly hot, and feels so good, and she comes again and then sags against the bed and lets him move inside her until he’s ready to pull out. When he does, he rolls her over, takes her in his arms, and they just hold each other and whisper and breathe for so long she starts to drift to sleep.

He gets them in the shower, cleans her up, kisses her lips and cheeks and all the places his body hurt hers, and she sighs, smiles, and thanks him. He thanks her back. The next morning, they’re getting ready to leave, and she is almost out the door when she hears Aaron talking to Rossi.

“Really nice sheets in that room. What kind are they?”

“They’re great, aren’t they? Peruvian cotton—Pima.” Aaron makes a sound of understanding.

“How much did they cost?”

“Around $120, I think.” She can hear the sound of paper—money—and ducks around the corner to see Aaron with his wallet out, handing Rossi a few bills.

“Sorry.” He pats Rossi on the shoulder and walks toward her, raises his eyebrows. “Ready to go?”

She sighs, nods, and takes his hand.

When they get home, they get online and order the sheets. And pick out a crib. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @wolviesbabes

[high-supernatural]

Rituals Take 2

Kai Parker x Female Reader

Request: Can you do the Rituals story but like a part 2 but the roles are reversed.

Word Count: 2517

Warnings: Kn!fe play (sorta, not really), smut, lots of smut, dom!kai, readers first time.

After the merge, Kai was having something of an existential crisis. He started feeling emotions and was thrown into a crisis of “who am I.” His whole identity was merged with the identity of his polar opposite. He was confused and desperate to find out who he really was.

Six months ago, a girl rescued him from the prison world. Since she was young, she was able to travel to other worlds in her dreams, that’s how she met Kai for the first time. When she grew older, she was able to physically travel there, and she got him out. She stayed with him through the merge, through getting magically sick, and now through what seems like a never-ending existential crisis. They were close, very close. It was almost as if they had known each other their whole lives. They knew no boundaries with each other, and constantly tested how far they would let each other go with their physical boundaries. Now things were different. He was withdrawn, stand offish, and seemed to be shutting himself out from the world.

They spent over a month with their eyes endlessly glued to occult books to find anything about merging identities but came up even more lost the more they read. Each time they came up with nothing, Kai shut down more. Over time, she started shutting down too because she didn’t know how else to help. They ignored each other and really only spoke when they were getting food, but even then, it was soft mumbles.

They sat in their hotel room like this every day until Kai found something in one of the books they had.

“I think I found something,” Kai interrupted the deafening silence in the room without taking his eyes off the book.

“What? Another theory?” She mumbled back.

“Not really a theory…” Kai trailed, “more of a method. It’s like an astral projection,” he looked up at her just to see that her eyes were still glued to the book she had.

Kai sighed dramatically, “it says it’s a ritual, all it calls for is basic things we can get at the gas station,” he kept looking at her ignoring him.

“Hm,” was all she responded with as she flipped a page, “it would probably just turn out like every other ritual we’ve tried, I wouldn’t bother,” she said bluntly.

“I don’t think so,” Kai said as if he was his normal self again, “it’s a ritual to see into the soul, you can’t get to know yourself any deeper than that.”

She closed her book and sat back in her chair in a sarcastic way, “fine, what does it call for?”

“Oh, you know, your basic magic things…” he trailed again as if to add an element of anticipation, “black candles, weird sigil, blood…” he paused again.

“And?” she asked, pretending to be annoyed with his dramatics.

“And sex,” he smiled innocently.

Her eyebrows raised for a split second as she leaned forward in her chair before standing, “oh cool, now you just have to trick somebody into having freaky ritualistic sex with you,” she said before walking behind Kai to the small kitchen they had in their hotel room.

“Would I have to trick you?” he said with his back towards her.

She paused what she was doing in the kitchen but didn’t respond. They let a few seconds of awkward pause pass them before Kai snuck up behind her, standing only centimeters from connection, and pushed her hair to the other side of her neck so he could see her face.

“Would I have to trick you?” he asked again with his hand under her chin, knowing she’d move her face away from him if he didn’t.

“Uh… no, I guess not,” she spoke with reddening cheeks.

“O.m.g… are you nervous?” Kai teased and poked her side. She never got nervous or flustered in front of him, she avoided it like hell.

“No,” she turned around to face him with her hands in her hoodie pockets, “just, why me? What if it doesn’t work?”

Kai circled his fingers around the strings on her hoodie, still standing suffocatingly close to her, “you’re a witch, you know the game, you’re probably the only person I know who won’t freak out and run when I ask if we can mix our blood and disconnect our souls from our bodies in a freaky sex romp…” he moved his eyes up her body until they met her eyes, “plus it helps that you’re hot.”

She looked down so Kai wouldn’t see her blush, but he objected by lifting her chin back up, “so, are you in?” Kai asked.

“I will platonically have a ‘freaky sex romp’ with you if there’s a chance it will snap you out of your identity crisis,” she smirked.

She stayed at the hotel to set up what she could while Kai left to get more things for the ritual. When he got back, she had already drawn the sigil on the floor and set most things up, the only thing left was the candles that Kai set up right when he got there.

She watched him lay the candles in a circle on the ground before he grabbed her hand for them to both be standing in the circle.

She starred at his serious facial expressions as he drew blood from his hand, “are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, more for herself than for him.

“I need to know who I am,” Kai responded.

“Well, what if it doesn’t work?”

Kai rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand, bringing his knife to it but stopping after he looked at her, “do you not want to do this?” he asked in an impatient tone.

“I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

He rolled his eyes and held onto her wrist, bringing the knife underneath her chin in a playful manner, “are you saying that for me or for you?”

He raised an eyebrow as she kept looking at him silently.

“Both, I guess—” she started before Kai cut her off to ask, “are you nervous?” he paused with a pondering look, “you’ve never done this before,” he chuckled through his nose, “have you?”

She shook her head ‘no’ so slightly it was almost unnoticeable.

He looked down at her hand as he brought the knife back there without drawing blood yet, “well, I’ll tell you what,” he looked back at her face, “we can either do this first and I’ll give you a real, extravagant, spectacular first time ever later, or the other way around,” he studied her expressions and bit his lip, “it’s up to you.”

“Well, we’re already here, so I guess the first option works,” she teased.

He brought her into a kiss right as he drew blood from her hand and interlocked their fingers, dropping the knife on the ground and moving his other arm up the back of her hoodie to rest around her waist, kissing her softly.

Kai unlocked their hands and pulled her body closer to him by the front waist of her shorts, “did I mention we have to be one-hundred-percent naked for this,” he teased, brushing his lips against hers before going back for a more passionate kiss and unbuttoned her shorts.

He pulled her shorts just enough for them to fall on their own. She tightened her legs from nervousness as Kai snaked one arm around her, cupping her ass to pull her even closer to him. Their bodies pressed together as his lips moved to her neck and his other hand trailed softer than a feather to rub the back of his knuckles down the front of her lace covered core resulting in her closing her legs tighter trying to ignore how weak her knees felt.

He sneaked his hands in between her tightened legs to cup her core and gently rub his thumb over her soft spot, “relax,” he whispered and pecked her lips once more before moving her to lay on the floor.

She propped herself up with her elbows and kept both ankles on either side of Kai’s legs with her knees pressed together as she watched him take his shirt off.

Kai whispered “incendia,” and the candles ignited as he spread her knees apart and ushered her to lay on her back with his lips attached to her neck, moving down her chest before lifting her hoodie up to expose her bare breasts.

He cupped one of her breasts as his lips traveled down the middle of them, looking up at her, he whispered, “you okay?”

She nodded and moved a hand to his hair, the other to where his hand rested on her hip.

His lips traveled further down until they reached her still clothed core and pulled himself up onto his knees with her hand in his, pulling her up to rest her knees underneath her.

Looking up at him, he guided her hand to feel the hardness in his pants before she removed his belt and pulled them down to expose his length, taking it in her hand as he lifted her hoodie over her head and slipped his hand under her panties.

Kai ran two fingers between her gates and softly pushed her onto her back again without removing his hand. He knelt between her legs, keeping them open by holding underneath one of her knees and slipped one finger inside.

She breathed in and swiftly moved a hand over his, the other to cover her mouth.

“It’s okay,” he whispered before inserting another finger and began pumping slowly as his thumb rubbed light circles on her clit. He leaned down to take one of her breasts into his mouth before using his free hand to hold the wrist she had placed over his hand onto her stomach before pumping faster.

He listened to the soft moans and whines she tried to muffle and couldn’t help but to tell her how perfect she was.

When she started shifting her hips into his fingers, he removed his hand and sat back on his knees, pushing her legs closed to grab both sides of her underwear and slowly pulled them off, spreading her legs for him again and rubbed his thumb down her folds once more.

He aligned himself with her entrance, pushing her knees up to her chest, “ready?” Kai whispered. She nodded and placed a hand on his stomach to control his pace. He slowly entered her with a look of pleasure and vulnerability on his face as he went deeper and began to move slowly.

As Kai picked up his pace both of their visions went dark, and they woke up in a dark world with a blue hue surrounding a forest full of leafless trees.

“Where are we?” she asked, but when she looked over at Kai, he wasn’t there. She looked around until she saw a figure in the distance – a tall figure about eight feet in height with gigantic elk shaped horns and what looked like a long robe covering its body. She didn’t even register the image of this figure in her mind before she called its name, “Kai,” she squinted, “how’d you get over there?” It was as if she knew who the figure was even though it didn’t look like the Kai she knew as a human.

The figure transported itself to stand directly in front of her, revealing its dark aura and red eyes, “this is what I am,” it spoke with a distorted voice before placing its hands on either side of her head.

She woke up back in the hotel room the second they both reached their orgasms, both a sweaty, moaning mess as Kai collapsed his face into the crook of her neck riding them both out.

“What the hell was that” she breathed, placing her hands on his shoulders to push him off her so she could stand up and quickly put her hoodie back over the hickey ridden chest Kai gave her as they were both blacked out.

Kai sat on his knees, “I know who I am,” he placed a hand between her thighs to pull them closer to his face harshly. He nibbled at the bottom of her stomach and breathed, “I finally remember who I really am.”

She attempted to push his head from moving further down and tightened her legs as Kai tightened his grip on her thigh, “Kai, you have to tell me what you saw,” she tried explaining.

He licked a stripe up her core, resulting in her legs partially buckling from the unexpected sensation, “I will,” he moved her body to the side to push her onto the bed. “But I promised you a real first time afterwards, remember?” he knelt before the bed he laid her on and moved his face between her legs.

“Kai, it can wait—” she was cut off by an unconscious gasp of air as his lips sucked on her clit roughly.

She moved a hand to grab at his hair and placed the other around the arm he rested on her stomach, arching her back and moving her hips uncontrollably at the pleasure.

Kai sucked harder and flicked his tongue around in fast, rough motions. It was as though his old self was finally back. “Kai—really—it can—” he cut her off by inserting two fingers into her, pumping as soon as he entered her causing her to moan loudly and grip his arm tighter.

She had never felt this many sensations before. The pleasure he was sending her was the loudest deafening feeling she had ever felt. She couldn’t resist giving into it as her second orgasm washed over her, leaving fingernail marks in Kai’s arm and filling the room with moans.

He snaked both arms underneath each side of her legs and held her wrists with them, pushing her through a third orgasm before he pulled himself up to her face with her arms being pushed above her head, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that,” he whispered before laying his lips on hers, letting her taste herself, “don’t you taste so good?”

“Glad you’re back, Kai… Can you tell me what you saw now?”

Kai pulled her legs so that her core was fully exposed to him at the edge of the bed and pushed his length into her again slowly.

“It wasn’t really what I saw…” he started as she watched in awe that he was really having a casual conversation as he was about to fuck her again, “it was just what I felt,” he thrusted slowly. Her eyelids grew heavier as she forced them to stay open enough to concentrate on what he was saying.

“I didn’t see anything except the forest, and it was like I downloaded files about who I am again,” he breathed a silent moan and leaned into the crook of her neck again, kissing it softly.

“So, thank you for helping me,” he whispered.

​​​

[mythomagically-delicious]

Okay so in a better world au ford and fiddleford created the Institute and made up, right? What happened to stan?

The point of that first post about "the twist" was this: what if Stan and Ford switched bodies and stans was sent into the portal with ford inside, and Stan in Ford's body remained behind. Stan immediately tries everything to turn it back on, to no avail. He went thru hundreds of papers and notes trying to understand ANYTHING and he got some general idea that ford had had a research partner out here who knew things- knew ford, knew the portal, he could help!

Stan in Ford's body races to town instead of staying isolated in the cabin for four weeks, and finds fiddleford. Fiddleford looks confused and stranger than the notes suggested but it matches up. He begs fiddleford to help him, and despite the falling out fiddleford has enough fondness for his old friend remaining that he is swayed. He doesn't get his full mind erased by the society bc he isn't abandoned fully and left wandering the town to be targeted by blind Ivan in his power grab.

Fiddleford and Stan (in Ford's body) go back to the shack and stan starts to take him to the basement when fidds starts freaking out, yelling and crying about the world-shattering consequences. About the things he saw, rhe demon, and more. Stan calms him down, takes him back upstairs. He's frustrated to high heaven and back but he knows he could never do this alone.

(He hasn't told fiddleford who he really is. Yet. He will, he just needs some help first. Who would help a loser like stan? But ford has a friend, he can be ford for a little bit to work the angle and get his brother back.)

It takes time. Way too much time, for Stan, but fiddleford slowly recovers enough of his sanity and calms his nerves enough to go down to the basement and not freak out. Stan admits to anything fiddleford asks him about, anything he saw from Ford's notes and makes it convincing that he's asking for a second chance. Maybe they could rebuild it, better? Without demon assistance?

Fiddleford helps tear it to shreds. They mark every part as they dismantle it and fiddleford searches for the reasons it opened a portal to nightmares. He doesn't follow schematics blindly, any more, no more blind trust to his friend. But he does help. Stan is learning on the job. He isn't convincing in the slightest of being a genius but fiddleford is too frazzled to notice. He's got his own shit going on.

They tear it down. Stan is afraid and angry and desperate but he holds his shit together. Fiddleford regains more of himself as they go. Stan learns more about ford and fiddlefords time together as fiddleford recovers memories and tells them to Stan. Stan makes his own notes, of how to Be Stanford Pines.

In time, they get to a stable place of living in the shack together, Stan trying to learn as much as he can about this science shit, pretending he was hit by the memory gun into forgetting himself when fiddleford questions it. Fidds is afraid to go confront the society, and can't remember where they are anyway. Stan doesn't care about it as long as his cover isn't blown. He hasn't told fiddleford yet. He will! But not yet.

They begin to plan a new, stable trans-dimensional vortex. It takes a whole hell of a lot, but they slowly build it anew. Still in the cursed basement, not even a skeleton of the old machine left after they destroyed it the first time.

Stan is flying less by the seat of his pants. Taking a leaf from Ford's book and staying up to radically terrible hours of the night studying and trying to understand all the science and math shit to make this work, to keep stringing fiddleford into helping him. Fidds takes time for his own projects and Stan doesn't bug him about it, saying if it makes money to split it, and when fiddleford hits a big invention that also happens to patent well and spread? They use the money to help their new portal.

It takes ten years to do it, but they recreate the portal, this time to a place they can control thru careful calibration. Fiddleford writes a scientific paper about it, publishes it with ford as a co-author, and they get international renown. Stan knows how to work a crowd and he uses their leverage to get people invested in investing, so to speak. It's not cheap to fund the energy required to turn it on, so they expand the building and create the Institute of Oddology, given enough time and building and circumstances lining up just right.

Fiddleford runs the teams and the day to day stuff. Stan handles finances and resource allocation and scheduling tours, interested parties, rivals, anything business side. He and fiddleford go to the first stable dimension together , though, and Stan uses all of the science gizmos at their disposal to search for ford while they're there.

He doesn't find him. He still hasn't told fiddleford. Its been too long at this point, right? What if he takes the money and fame and everything and kicks Stan out for lying? He mostly rode fiddlefords genius to get here, there's no way he'd not be mad about this.

They go to many dimensions. Stan takes samples and learns scientific process thru osmosis over the years and contributes to publishibg written works to the greater scientific community.

He looks for Ford. He finds nothing. He tells no one his true purpose for everything he's achieved to that point. He lies and wears Ford's face and shakes hands and is a sham.

One day Fiddleford races to his office, frantic and eyes wide and hands shaking slightly like Stan hasnt seen in years. It's been 30 years since ford was lost to the portal. And fiddleford comes to him and says there's a parallel you, Stanford, in conference room B, we need to send him on his way immediately, you remember what happened to Ernie on that trip 8 years back?

And Stan ignores this, heart pounding, and knocks fiddleford out, locking him in the office, racing to conference room B.

He bursts in, and sees a version of his brother. One he doesnt see in the mirror. A real Stanford Pines, 30 years older than the kids they were when they fought beside the portal. Apparently no universe is fair, if ford ends up inside in multiple dimensions.

Stan is speechless. The portal!ford is on the defensive, but interest is clear in his face. He keeps his distance, cognizant of parallel!fiddlefords warning from before. Of counterparts meeting in a dimension of origin. Annihilation.

Stan cries. Ford looks shocked to see his own self in such a state. He doesn't know what to do. Stan surges forward for a hug and Ford tries to dodge, afraid of the consequences. Stan traps his hands to his sides and sobs on Ford's mysterious black coat, calling him brother. Ford's inner alarm bells go off even as he clenches his eyes shut against the incoming total destruction.

When nothing happens except for a wet patch to grow on Ford's clothes, he opens his eyes and studies himself. They look scarily similar, truth be told. His counterpart heartier than he, an interdimensional fugitive. That makes sense. Parallel ford is apologizing into his jacket and clutching him hard enough to leave bruises.

Ford dodges out of the grapple his counterpart has him in. He demands answers in a clipped tone. Stan does his best to reign it back in as he confesses what transpired in this dimension to this dimension traveling ford. How he hopes his own brother, trapped in stans body, is still out there, still surviving, still where Stan can find him.

Ford starts a fight. Stan defends himself but it gets physical and he doesn't have the same instincts to take down he did when he was younger. He remembers the last fight he had with his brother, and doesn't want that to happen again.

Fiddleford eventually gets free of the office and runs in to see parallel ford beating the shit out of his ford. He stuns ford with a device on his belt and brings things back to some semblance of order, getting a first aid kit out to tend to them both. P!Ford's knuckles, mainly, and stans face.

The truth comes out, ugly and stained and fiddleford forgives Stan immediately. He turns to parallel ford and helps him out of the room, promising help with his weapon and more, later.

Stan is left with the knowledge that all these years later, no matter what he does, his brother hates him.

Fiddleford helps ford with his weapon. If ford can destroy bill cipher, more dimensions will open up to be explored. If his and stans ford is still alive out there, they'll have a better shot if Bill is out of the picture. They send parallel!ford off a few days later. Fiddleford goes to Stan that night and calls him by a name that hasn't been spoken in 30 years. Stan can barely look at him. Fiddleford gives him time and space, but tells him he understands.

A month and a half later, a ripple is felt thru thousands of dimensions at once, the death of Bill cipher in every iteration is making its way thru the multiverse. Celebrations are happening as people cheer and laud thr name of the one who saved them, spread in a cosmic understanding by some greater power. Stanley Pines, shatterer of Bill Cipher.

4 years later, they find Ford. Ford in Stans body is old, ragged. He's missing an eye and an arm and so much more of who he used to be. But they bring him home. He doesn't want to switch bodies back.

Stan feels guilt eat at him, but ford is different than the other traveler they'd met. He's more settled. He thanks Stan for finding him. Doesn't blame him for how long it took. Didn't think he'd be come for anyway.

It's strange and rocky but slowly strides are made to bridge the gap of decades and become people they want to be, again. Brothers, friends, explorers. They never body swap again, but they settle into themselves and own who they are.

[mara-xx217]

Herman Carter/The Doctor x Chess Wizard

It's finally happened, ladies and gentlemen. They banged. The End? 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Hate Fuck, General Roughness, Herman is a Serious Sore Loser, You're a Sore Winner lol

Against your better judgement, you go back to the Lery time after time. Why do you keep going back...? You certainly love to argue with Carter, and you love to beat him at his own games, but... That's not the only reason why you go back, is it?

You get a rise out of this little dance the two of you do just as much as he does. He can't hide his growing arousal around you, but you could. But: for how much longer?

Not very, given your poor impulse control and knack for getting yourself into trouble in the worst possible places.

An argument of you "cheating" arose in between trials. It wasn't your own games you were winning! You couldn't win a game against him from start to finish, by yourself.

Challenge fucking accepted you prick.

Unsurprisingly, you kicked his ass. It wasn't even close. You locked him in so early, Carter almost couldn't believe it. Almost. You were highly intelligent, and you knew how to use it. He couldn't argue with the facts. You- You were- You- You- ...

No, fuck that! He won't fucking accept this...! Defeated? At chess?! BY A FUCKING WOMAN?!

The tension had finally boiled over between the two of you. That smug look on your face... Before you even had time to react, you were grabbed by the front of your jacket and slammed hard onto his desk, the air knocked from your lungs as your head spun.

Oh.

Oh shit-

Things landed onto the floor with a thunderous CRASH! A rogue book dug into your back uncomfortably, but you barely felt it over the unbearable heat that washed over you as realization struck you with the force of a few hundred volts-

ZAP!

You involuntarily scream as your entire body revolts against your command. It was like every other time he’s electrocuted you, only- it wasn’t. It was… different. You were in pain, a lot of pain, yet you felt sensitive as well. It feels good. He made you feel good…

White hot heat rose to your chest, making you feel claustrophobic and far too itchy in your clothing. Wai- Wait. Wait… This- is this really-? By the time your eyesight had mostly recovered from the sudden shock, the Doctor had already removed- whatever the hell the Entity makes him wear during trials- and had roughly smashed his lips onto yours.

Huh. If someone said that the Doctor would not only zap you after an impromptu chess match but slam you down onto his desk and kiss you, you would have laughed. If they said that you would actually like it? You would have probably punched them. Yet here you are, like the impulsive dumbass that you are… Fucking making out with the sore loser on his desk…

You both groan hotly into one another's mouths. He crushed you underneath his much broader and heavier body, but it wasn't oppressive. Fuck, it felt so right. All the times that you teased him mid chase, that you fucked up his chess matches and called him out for being a sore loser, all of the tension and anger and unrequited feelings unraveled at once and with an intensity that both frightened and aroused you.

Teeth and tongue clashed clumsily. Not exactly unpracticed but hurried and possessive. There was no tact- no soft words or gentle touches- only bloody lips and torn clothing. Pants ripped off and cast to the side, belts undone with trembling hands and a firm grasp around the throat. Nails digging into skin, unabashed demands and growls of dominance. It's right there... Teasing and prodding, staying just out of reach for you to roll your hips and take him whole. He wants you to beg. You won't-

The Doctor's patience was nonexistent. Even if you were about to relent, which you weren't, he didn't give you enough time to even catch your breath. In a single thrust, he was inside of you. An uncomfortable fit that took your breath away, that burned and stretched you in ways that you haven't felt- that you h-haven't felt in- in-

The treatment was rough, but to your surprise, you liked it. You liked the force behind his hips, the tight grip around your neck, that intense look in his eyes- No one has ever fucked you like this before. That itch that has been plaguing you for- for God knows how long was finally being sated, and being sated by the one you've been desperate to close the ever-narrowing gap of your... unique relationship with.

You should feel... well, anything but smug and self-righteous that Carter was the one to break first. You knew that you pissed him off, that you got under his skin and pushed him to his breaking point, but this surprised you. Almost as much as you surprised yourself, with just how turned on okay you were with this sudden turn of events.

This hasn't changed much. You'll still kick his ass at chess at every given chance, and he'll still be a sore loser and "punish" you for your transgressions when you are particularly smug and rub in your many, many victories over him. Carter would be a liar if he said that he didn't find your quick thinking and intellect both fascinating and infatuating. He had forgotten what it felt like to be genuinely challenged by another person, to be genuinely surprised and actually feel something other than disgust or contempt. It was... interesting. Very interesting. He'd like to explore his strange and freshly budding relationship with you more thoroughly...

@prettycutebunny

@gore-loving-whore

@kennbb

@cherrysodalite

@dead-bxtch-walking

@space-arsonist

[kookicat]

A Gift of Telling & Trust

Nate's words fade away and for a moment, they're all quiet, absorbing the story. There's a sheen in Sophie's eyes that looks suspiciously like tears, and Parker has curled into Hardison's side, resting her head on his shoulder. He's got one arm around her, thumb rubbing absent circles on her side.

Eliot clears his throat, feeling just a little self conscious, and downs the last of his long neck before he speaks. "Before… Before my Mom died," he starts, voice soft, reflective, because it's been a while since he dug up the memories, and he's not sure how they're going to make him feel. "I was twelve, Erin was ten. Mom had been wanting a puppy for a couple of years, and one of my friend's farm dogs was having a litter." He smiles at the memory and glances up, seeing everyone's eyes on him. He's not sure why, but it feels comfortable, and he feels the smile get a bit bigger. "They were seven weeks old on Christmas eve, all bitty black and white things. Only one girl, and we picked her and snuck her in the house. We'd saved up our allowance to buy food and such. She slept on my bed, and we put a bow on her and took her downstairs at the crack of dawn." He pauses, accepting a fresh bottle from Hardison, giving the label a quick check to make sure the other man isn't slipping him one of his weird brews. He's not sure he'll ever cleanse his senses of the last one- pumpkin spice and mint, for christsakes, but the bottle is one of his favourites and he twists the top off.

"What happened?" Parker asks, because she's an instant gratification sorta girl, but they're all still watching him, waiting for the end of the story.

"Well Mom fell instantly in love," he says, lip quirking into a smile, "Dad took some convincing, threatened to take the belt to me but I'm pretty sure he was smitten too."

The end of the story isn't so happy, and he's not sure he wants to tell it and break the spell. "They were inseparable. Mom named her Dodie."

"101 Dalmatians? I loved that book." Sophie asks, and he glances at her, nodding.

"What happened to her?" Parker leans forward to poke him and he bats her hand away, gently.

Part of him wants to lie and tell them a happy ending, but life doesn't work that way. "She was in the truck with my Mom when a drunk driver ran them off the road. They hit a tree. Both killed instantly," he says, and his voice only cracks a little.

It's a hard memory, but he's mostly made his peace with it. It's nice, too, to be able to remember his family and share that with his new one.

Sophie presses her hand against his arm. "I'm sorry, Eliot. I had no idea."

He covers her hand with his own, for a beat. "It's okay. Thank you."

Another memory sneaks in, one he'd all but forgotten about and he laughs, earning startled looks from the others that only make him laugh harder. It takes him a second to get control and he's pretty sure they think it's the start of a hysterical breakdown.

"I'm fine," he says, and waves his hand. "Just remembered something. My fourteenth birthday, Dad decided I was finally old enough to learn how to use the grill. Bought a big rack of ribs. Damn dog stole them from the counter. We spent half an hour chasing her around the yard but every time we got close, she'd manage to escape. I'd never seen my Dad so mad." He laughs again, then takes a swig of his beer, content to settle back into silence and just enjoy the memory.

They spend an agreeable hour, just trading bullshit stories about past jobs before they decide to call it a night.

He wakes up the next morning, more hungover than he'd ever admit, to find a black and white puppy staring at him from the other side of his bed. "What the hell?" he says and blinks, rubbing his eyes, convinced he's seeing things until a wet nose unerringly finds this side of his neck. He rolls out of bed, scooping the puppy up and heading to his living room, trying to ignore the soft brown eyes staring at him.

Just as he suspected, Parker is sleeping on his couch. The bigger surprise is that Hardison is curled up in the recliner in the corner, one arm draped over his face to block out the mid morning light. He's pretty sure it was Hardison's idea to break out the tequila. He's also pretty sure that they killed the bottle between them.

"Parker," Eliot says, trying to sound serious. It's a lot harder to do with a puppy trying to lick his face. "Parker!"

She jerks awake, and he blinks, feeling a little bad about that. "What?" she mutters, shoving her hair out of her face and stretching like a cat, all liquid grace.

"What's this?" Eliot asks, with what he feels is commendable patience, especially considering the marching band that's doing laps of his brain.

"That's a puppy," Parker says, like he's being slow.

"Yes, I know that," Eliot says through his teeth. "Why was she in my bed?" The puppy lays her head on his chest and sighs and he knows that if this gets out, he's going to have to blow up an orphanage or something to maintain his reputation.

"Because she wouldn't stay on the couch," Parker says and throws a cushion at Hardison.

The hacker jerks awake, flailing and the puppy barks. "I don't think she liked that," Hardison mutters.

"Why do I have a puppy?" Eliot asks, absently stroking the dog's head, surprised by how soft and fine her fur is. It's like silk against his skin and it feels nice. He's always liked dogs, but with the life he's lived, he's never had the chance to own one.

"Because they were going to kill her at the pound because no one had adopted her!" Parker says, just as Hardison blurts "Parker made me do it!"

Eliot rubs his face with his free hand. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know the full story. He's also pretty sure he can't keep the puppy, no matter how darn cute she is. "Please tell me you didn't steal the puppy," he mutters and turns towards the kitchen, needing coffee and food.

He sets the puppy down, watching her as she sniffs her way around his kitchen, clearly looking for something. "You hungry, pup?" he says, and opens the fridge, pulling out a bit of roast chicken and almost losing his fingers to sharp puppy teeth. "Guess that's a yes."

He takes out the rest of the chicken, chopping it into smaller chunks before dumping it into a dish- though not one of his good ones, thank you very much-- and putting it on the floor with a bowl of water.

"We're sorry," Parker says, leaning on the door frame. "A puppy is a huge commitment and we should have checked first."

Eliot pulls the eggs from the fridge. "Have you been talking to Sophie?" he asks and sets a frying pan on to heat.

"Yes." Parker stoops, picking the puppy up and stroking her. "She did say a dog would be good for you."

Hardison joins Parker, reaching over to fuss the puppy. "I found a rescue that'll take her and make sure she gets a good home. We can drop her off later today."

The thought of handing the puppy over to someone else sends an unexpected pang through him. "You checked them properly?" Eliot asks, adding pre chopped peppers to the eggs.

"Have you met me?" Hardison says, voice full of only mostly faked offence. "Excuse you. Of course I checked them properly."

"Make some damn coffee," Eliot grouses at the other man. He's pretty sure they all know the damn puppy isn't going to any rescue. He has to admit, some nights it would be nice to come home to some non judgemental company.

"She's so cute," Parker says, sneaking a look at Eliot under her lashes. "Maybe I'll keep her."

Parker is proficient at many things, including keeping Parker alive but he's seen what she does to house plants and the thought of her being responsible for a living creature sends a stab of alarm through Eliot. Hardison is sharing the same thought, if the look in his face is any indication.

"Fine," Eliot snaps and portions the eggs with more force than strictly necessary. "She can stay here!"

He knows he's been caught neatly in a trap when Parker turns to Hardison, grinning. "Told you," she says and ducks when Eliot throws a dish towel at her head.

[yikesharringrove]

Billy closed the front door behind him, the pine wreath jiggling as the door swung shut.

He took of his boots, leaving them next to Steve’s wet snow boots, smiling down and rolling his eyes fondly at the fancy fur-lined things.

He could hear Steve in the kitchen, no doubt on the phone. .

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. No, I don’t mind. Yeah. Mom, seriously, it’s alright. Just, uh, enjoy the trip. I’ll-yes. Yeah. I’m good! Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep. Alright, love you too. Yep. Bye now. Of course. Yeah. Okay. Talk soon.”

He was leaned against the wall next to the mounted phone, his back to the entry way.

He was twisting the chord around his wrist.

Billy liked to imagine Steve doing that whenever they spoke on the phone. Liked to imagine him twirling the chord around and blushing and getting all gooey.

Mostly because Steve was always so damn rigid when he spoke with his parents. So anxious and stiff.

He shook his hand free, placing the phone back on the hook and sighing deeply.

And then he sniffed.

Billy wrapped his arms around him from behind, and Steve didn’t waste a moment before leaning back against him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What was your mom talking about?”

“It’s nothing.” Steve took a deep breath, turning in his arms to wrap his own arms around Billy’s shoulders, giving him his best attempt at a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

Steve leaned forward, ready to press his lips to Billy’s, only to have Billy lean back, avoiding him completely. He pouted at Billy.

“Tell me what’s up. Then you get a kiss.”

Steve’s pout just went deeper. Billy liked to pretend he was immune to those goddamn doe eyes. He absolutely was not.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nah, your parents are being shitty again, and I wanna know about it so I can make you feel better.”

And Steve melted, just a little bit at that.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Billy gasped dramatically.

“I would never.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s just, my mom and I have this tradition. Around Christmastime. We, you know. We go to the city, and do dinner, just the two of us. And we. God, it sounds so lame.” Billy pinched his side. Steve pulled his hair in retaliation. “And, wegototheballet.” Steve let his head flop onto Billy’s shoulder.

“Stevie, you got mush mouth there at the end.”

“We go to the freakin’ ballet, okay? We go to the ballet!” And Steve was pulling away, his face beet red, his arms wrapped around himself. “We do it every year, and have since I could sit through the fucking thing, and she’s not coming this year. And she said why don’t you take your girlfriend, Nancy? And I don’t know how many times I’ve told her that Nancy and I broke up, but she still just-” he cut himself off shaking his head. “It’s like, I know it’s fucking lame, but it’s my favorite part of Christmas. I look forward to it all damn year and we’re not going.”

And the thing on the tip of Billy’s tongue was Jesus, the fucking ballet, Harrington? Could you be anymore of a princess?

But this is, like, effecting Steve. This is actually taking a fucking toll on him.

And, well, Billy said he’d try to make him feel better.

“So, when is it?”

“When’s what?”

“The fucking ballet.”

And Steve stared at him.

“Never, apparently. Because she’s having too much fun in Saint-Tropez, and anyway aren’t you getting a little old for it, Steven?” He put on a breathy voice when he imitated his mother, sticking his nose in the air.

“I mean when is it running, numb nuts.”

“All this month. It’s like, Christmas themed. They do it every year.”

“Then you’re in charge of getting tickets.”

And Steve was giving him a look, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you, suggesting, that you, Billy ‘I’m rough and tough and dangerous’ Hargrove, are going to take me to the ballet?”

“I’m not suggesting it, shithead. I’m telling you to get fucking tickets, and let me know the date so I can get a nice fucking shirt.”

“You’re serious? You’re going to drive with me to the city, and sit there for nearly three hours, and watch the ballet with me.”

“Jesus fuck-three hours? God, the shit I do for you.” He scrubbed a hand down his face as Steve, Steve’s face split into a wide smile, the one that makes his nose scrunch up, and he began hopping from foot to foot, bobbing his head.

“Okay. Okay! I’m gonna, I think I can buy them over the phone. I’ll, I’m gonna do it before you have a chance to back out.” He took a step closer to Billy, grabbing his face in one hand, making his cheeks pout, planting a kiss to his lips before zooming off to dig the phone book out of the hall closet.

He was humming away to himself, probably the music from the fucking ballet Billy had resigned himself to seeing, while he pawed through the heavy book, searching for the number of the theater in Indianapolis.

Billy rolled his eyes at Steve’s little outbursts of excitement, tossing himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“You fucking owe me. Just, like, by the way. I’m talking blowjobs every day. I’m talking cigarettes. I’m talking homemade dinners.”

“Oh, you mean the shit that I already do because I l-love you, or whatever.” Steve’s face went bright red, and he turned away from Billy, standing in a stunned silence, jamming the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, hi, I’d like to purchase some tickets please.” His voice sounded strained, and he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head.

Billy was stuck fucking dumb.

He’s never, fucking never had someone tell him that they love him. He thinks maybe his mom did back in the day, but it’s been a long fucking time since he’s felt the slow spread of warmth down his spine that comes with hearing it.

Steve loves him.

Steve was rambling away on the phone, tugging on the phone cord, and tapping his foot maniacally.

Billy doesn’t think he could move.

And eventually he hear the person on the other end of the line hang up. He registered Steve placing the phone quietly on the hook once again. 

He stayed with his back towards Billy.

“Steve.”

He took a deep breath, turning around to face Billy with a big fake smile.

“I got tickets! We’re going on Saturday. So, uh, yeah. If you need to borrow some clothes, it’s, it’s pretty fancy. So, like, uh, yes.” Steve was babbling, his eyes darting between Billy’s left ear and the wall behind him.

“Steve.”

“I got mezzanine seats. That’s where I like to sit, uh, you can see the stage better that way, and they’re usually cheaper. I mean, not that that’s, like, the thing, but, it’s a bonus.”

“Steve.”

Steve rolled his lips into his mouth, his leg shaking.

“Can we, like, not talk about it?”

“I feel like we should, though.”

“I don’t, wanna.”

Billy fought the urge to roll his eyes. He should be, like, sweet for this conversation. Or something. Adjacent to it.

“At least, did you mean it? What you said?”

Steve bit his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I mean. I liked, liked hearing it. And, uh, me too. You know. Uno reverse.” Billy gestured like he was putting a card down between them. Steve gave him a blank stare.

“Did you just, Uno reverse my confession of love? Is that seriously what just happened?”

“Well, like-” the thing is, it’s a big fucking word. And he doesn’t think he can actually, like, say it to Steve. But, he feels it. He definitely feels it. Like, fuck, he’s going to the goddamn ballet for this fucker. Obviously, there’s some big fucking feelings there. “What you feel. Is also. What I feel.”

“Oh. Good, then. Yeah. Good.” Steve looked around the room. “Should we, like, shake on it?”

“Shake on it? Steve, fucking Hell. Just come here.” He reached out, looping his fingers through Steve’s belt loops, tugging him into his arms. And Steve stumbled forward, crashing with very little grace into Billy.

He sighed as Billy kissed him, a sloppy, desperate kiss. A kiss that Billy tried to shove every word he couldn’t say into Steve’s brain the same way he shoved his tongue into Steve’s mouth. 

And when they broke apart, Steve began humming, grinning wildly.

And Billy figured the song was from the fucking ballet he had agreed to see with Steve. Which he can’t stress enough, the fact that he is going to see a goddamn, motherfucking ballet just to make his favorite person happy, that’s as close as Billy can possibly come to a declaration of devotion at this point in his life.

But Steve pulled out a brightly decorated record from his family’s collection, explaining that the ballet had many different iterations, but all choreographed to the same compilation of music, and apparently, this was enough for him.

To have Billy hold him while he talked for hours about the story of the ballet, the history of it, the music the costumes he likes, everything, maybe it was okay that Billy couldn’t say the words. Maybe it was okay that he was there, that he did the things Steve liked just to see him smile.

Billy’s never been enough for anyone.

But then again, neither has Steve.

(And when they finally see the show, it’s the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever seen in his life. They go once more before the run is closed and establish a new tradition together.)

[ridethewritings]

spending a day with the boys. (headcanons!)

request: hey, i got a request!! i know this is super like general lmao i hope it's enough to work with! but maybe some headcanons on how each of the boys would choose to spend a day off from band duties with the reader! thanks in advance, dude!☺️

a/n: thank you @glambby for being my very first request. i’m forever grateful! :’) i hope you like these headcanons! i may or may not have gotten super emotional while writing cliff's headcanons. </3

warnings: none!

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

james hetfield:

- being with james, you knew you had signed up for everything that came with this package. you fucking knew that you were about to have fun when he brought out some liquor from your liquor cabinet.

- this living room sure as hell was big enough for the both of you to get drunk and dance around, singing the lyrics to some random music you put on the stereo.

- the drunken stumbles of the both of you sent you into a fit of laughter as you slowly crumpled to the floor. james would have a huge grin on his now reddened face, cheeks pink from laughter.

- there is nothing like getting stupid, silly drunk with james hetfield. you thanked whoever was in the sky that you two didn't have neighbors in close enough proximity to y'all. hell, you damn sure knew if you did that you'd be getting noise complaints.

- once you two calmed yourselves, james brought out one of his acoustic guitars. another thing you absolutely loved about spending time with him this way. he gets relaxed, and he plays whatever he wants, and you sit there with a glass, the last few sips of your liquor in it.

- god damn, this man can sing. listening to him sing was amazing. it always amazed you at how talented he was, and it makes you wonder how the fuck you got to this point, being with him, the love of your life.

kirk hammett:

- this boy and his horror movies. you like horror movies too? "new horror movie out! let's go to the movies tonight-"

- "kirk, honey, you just got home today. relax-"

- "this movie looks so good though, just look at it!"

- eventually you gave in, and to be honest, you looked at the trailer and unfortunately, it did look like a good movie. now you REALLY had to see it.

- at the movies, he lets you get all the snacks you want, and he gets some himself, and of course he's getting the largest bucket of buttery popcorn for the two of you to share. he wants to make sure you both have everything you possibly need so that way the two of you wouldn't have to get up during the movie.

- go to the bathroom BEFORE you get into the movie, too! just so you don't miss any of the movie. if you do end up having to go again, he won't be upset, but instead, he'd follow you out so he can make a soda run for you after because your sodas ran out.

- oh yes, reclining in the top row of chairs and holding hands between all of the snacks you both put out and started munching on, stealing little kisses from you every now and then.

- needless to say, you two had a blast, and when you went home, you both went to bed, your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat slowing to a resting.

lars ulrich:

- walking through downtown, checking out small shops, his hand was in yours almost the whole time. crossing the street, he would never let your hand go, he'd keep you near him at all times. this man is protective.

- the street was lit with dim street lanterns, and the brick sidewalks made ways for the people in town to get around easily. there was music thumping throughout the town from not only the restaurants, but a small music store you spotted.

- you ended up dragging him into the music store to look at the metallica records. whoops? and the first one you grabbed to look at was the and justice for all record, which you knew had a picture of lars on the back. "look at you!" you said softly, pointing your finger at the picture of him.

- your comments on the photo made him have to resist the urge to smile, his cheeks getting rosy as he let out a small and barely audible laugh. and thank GOD no one noticed that it was actually him, lars ulrich, in the music store as you were making your way around, looking at the metallica albums happily.

- as much as he loved seeing you excited, and seeing your happiness about his band's success, he knew it was almost time for the two of you to get going.

- you've both never been in this town before, and you loved it already. you loved the hustle and bustle of this small town, the sidewalks crowded with small groups of people every once in a while, which wasn't a problem because they usually kept on their side and passed y'all without hesitancy.

- it was great, until he checked the time, then he took your hand, telling you that you both needed to leave.

- mans really made a secret reservation to a really really great restaurant that was located in this town. that was why he wanted y'all to be here this late. you weren't complaining about the town, though. you loved the streets and the small stores. this town was pretty cute.

- when he led you towards a restaurant that you laid your eyes on when you passed it moments ago, you made an audible noise.

- the smile that appeared on his face told you everything. and you loved him for that.

- the restaurant smelled and looked absolutely stunning, and he knew you wanted to go there when you passed it before. and honey, disappointment was not a word in your vocabulary when you left that restaurant. you two had a blast, and in fact, that restaurant was now your number one favorite. that food was BANGIN'.

cliff burton:

- cliff would be the person to take you out for a ride in his car, and just park at a peaceful and quiet place that he knows won't have other people at. just a regular hangout place that only he knows.

- it's nothing too fancy, but it's a great place to just relax and get away from society. how he knew about this place, you have no idea, but you're glad he took you here.

- he'd probably smoke a small bit, listening to music on the car radio, and eventually he'd turn it up so the two of you could go outside and sit on the hood of the car, taking in the fresh air.

- he would let you rest your head on his shoulder, and smile when you point out different clouds and their shapes. stay out for a little longer and the both of you would be looking at the stars, the first constellation he points out, being orion's belt.

- if you were hungry afterwards once he'd taken you home, he would call and order in.

- being in cliff's presence was and always has been a blessing from the stars, and you were very very grateful to have him. he may be quiet and chill, but you love him for it, and it always makes you relaxed whenever you are able to spend time with him. no matter how you spend that time.

jason newsted:

- you found yourself mesmerized by jason's curly hair blowing in the wind while the top of the convertible was down, the two of you going 85 on the freeway towards the mountains.

- boy were you excited to spend time with him for the night in that cabin in the mountains, seeing the pictures of the cabin and the views online before you went and booked a cabin over call.

- well, you were not disappointed when you rolled up to the cabin. even the views while driving up the mountain were gorgeous. remembering the way jason compared the mountain to you, saying that the views were gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as you.

- he said that, and all you could do was let out a small laugh, and he noticed that what he said, was in fact cheesy. but it was okay, because you loved him.

- getting into the cabin, the first thing you noticed was the warm smell of vanilla and cinnamon. maybe from the candles, maybe from the brand new bottle of rum that you spotted in the small liquor cabinet, along with some small shot glasses that were tempered with the gentlest of hands in warm red and orange color.

- the rest of the night went extremely well, you both had a nice dinner, some drinks, and relaxed in the outside hot-tub that sat in the corner of the screened in back porch, which overlooked the mountains of trees, a lake in the middle of the valleys.

- sleeping with him next to you for a night had to be the best feeling in the world, being in his arms after he was away for so long. it really takes it's toll on you, and he knows it. every time he has to leave, he apologizes profusely, and you tell him it's okay, that it's his job. and hell, whenever he does have free time for you, he always misses you too.

robert trujillo:

- what can i say? robert is a romantic, much like lars. he will want to take you out, no ifs ands or buts about it. insist that you two should stay home? sure, but he’ll find a way to make it romantic. want to go out? you bet your ass he’ll take you wherever you want to go.

- if you want to stay home, he would definitely close the blinds and curtains, make the house dimly lit instead of all bright from the light outside.

- hungry? he’ll cook for you, and you better not get up to try and help him. and to be honest, he’d cook a slammin’ meal.

- if you’re cold, he’ll go and grab both of you a big blanket to wrap the two of you up in, just to snuggle and watch whatever you want. another giant teddy bear!

- going out on this day, he’d cruise around in the vehicle with you, giving you the reins for the choice of music. no complaints from him, not a peep, he'd just listen to you sing the lyrics and have a smile on his face.

- man is just happy to spend this day with the love of his life. he'd do anything to make you happy.

[crowfootwrites]

Los Guardianes | Part V [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Ok, I promise there's a comedown from all the adrenaline after this! And very soon we will see characters other than Cristóbal lol.

Warnings: mentions of blood, drugs, and domestic violence; police interactions; language | Words: 1,900+

Taglist: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie @est1887 @mveggieburger

Part IV of Los Guardianes

As you thundered down the alley, you glanced over at a wailing Cristóbal, splashes of crimson quickly drying across his arms and t-shirt from where you had carried him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Cristóbal, alright? I promise. Just hang tight,” you shouted over the strained whining of the engine. He quieted, shaking violently in his seat, but you turned your attention back towards the road, quickly reaching the end of the alley. You made a sharp right, having no idea where to go, but hoping to find a main street quickly.

Luck appeared to be on your side. You kept your eye on the rearview, but you didn’t see anyone behind you yet. You came up on a main street, mostly empty of traffic, and made a sharp left, immediately flooring the accelerator again. Your eyes flickered to passing signs, looking for anything you recognized.

“Fuck!” you growled, squeezing the steering wheel as you passed a sign for the Sun Bowl, panic rising in your chest as you realized you were in El Paso, Texas. You had no idea how you were going to get all the way back to California without getting caught, either by your kidnappers or by police, although at this point, you would have preferred the police. But you also had plenty of experience with dirty cops, and if your kidnappers had brought you here, of all places, it seemed likely that the police would be in their pockets.

You whipped past a sign for I-10 northbound and made for the onramp, revving the engine to merge into traffic. You darted immediately into the fast lane. Traffic was relatively light, but you hadn’t yet decided if that was good or bad. Your eyes flicked keenly between the road in front of you, your odometer, and the traffic behind you, watching for signs of a tail. It seemed like you were clear for the time being, but you hesitated to get too comfortable. It wouldn’t be long before the shattered back window drew some kind of attention.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you realized you had an almost full tank of gas. You wouldn’t be able to make it all the way back to Santo Padre on one tank, and you had no idea how you were going to pay for another. But you relegated that to the back of your mind, a concern for later. There was a balled-up hoodie in the backseat, and you stared blankly at the rosary swinging from the rearview. The glove compartment was empty.

Your eyes tracked the nearest freeway sign, realizing I-10 would take you into New Mexico. From there, you could head towards Phoenix. You didn’t love the idea of staying on a major freeway for so long, but it was the quickest way to get where you were going. From just south of Phoenix, you could take smaller highways towards home, and that suited you better. But the feeling of being chased propelled you forward; you were constantly pushing the odometer and scanning of your surroundings.

You reached New Mexico without a problem, but without a solid plan in place, you sped through it. As you careened down the highway towards an empty desert horizon, you heard Cristóbal’s breathing begin to calm. There was no chance of your pulse slowing or your body settling; you sat on the edge of the driver's seat, your thighs and core constantly clenched, ready for hell when it came.

Around two hours after you left El Paso, you were rapidly approaching Deming, New Mexico, and by then your brain was shouting at you to stop. You wanted to try to find a gas station to get yourself and Cristóbal cleaned up, in case you did get pulled over. You also wanted to check the trunk. While you had certainly been making good time, a sneaking suspicion nagged at you, one that questioned why no one had come after you or appeared to have reported the car stolen.

On the far edge of Deming, once you had passed through the center of the city, you followed signs for a gas station that looked, from the highway, to be mostly empty, in the middle of an empty stretch of commercial buildings and vacant lots. You guided the car towards the back of the gas station lot, behind the building, where you breathed a sigh of relief that there were bathrooms on the exterior of the building. You pulled into a parking space and only once you had scanned your surroundings did you get out. You went around to the passenger side door and guided Cristóbal out, grabbing the hoodie from the backseat.

The lock on the bathroom door was broken, so you pushed your way in, gagging a little at the stench. The sink was filthy, but the water ran clear, and you quickly rinsed your skin, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. Flashes of the man you killed flickered behind your eyes whenever you closed them, bile rising in your throat. The gnawing in your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. The adrenaline had kept the hunger at bay, but suddenly you were so hungry you felt nauseous. You helped Cristóbal wash his face and hands, then pulled the hoodie over your soiled shirt, zipping it all the way up.

Back at the car, you popped the trunk and your mouth fell open.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned. Six bricks of cocaine were packed into the back of the small trunk, along with a duffel bag. You supposed that was why no one had reported the car stolen. It made you feel a little better that the cops wouldn’t necessarily be looking for you, but if you did get pulled over, you’d be fucked. You dug through the duffel bag, finding it full of clothes, and your heart lifted when your fingers skimmed smooth leather. You pulled out a black leather wallet, flipping it over in your hands. There was no ID, but there was a singular twenty dollar bill in it, and that would have to do.

Cash in hand, you tugged Cristóbal into the gas station store with you, grabbing a couple of protein bars and a large bottle of water, wanting to hang on to enough money for gas down the road.

You planned to dispose of the cocaine out in the middle of the desert, so you hightailed it out of Deming. A little less than an hour later, you took a tiny offramp and followed a deserted road past a dilapidated gas station out into the barren desert. You pulled the car off into the dirt, sending a cloud of dust up around you.

“Wait in the car,” you told Cristóbal gently, who nodded at you with wide eyes.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands, you dumped the clothes out of the duffel bag and packed the drugs into it, zipping it up. Careful not to touch anything with your bare hands, you slung it over your shoulder and hauled it towards a thick patch of scrub brush several yards from the road. Dropping the bag behind a clump of brush and prickly pear cacti, you booked it back towards the car, heading immediately back towards the highway.

You were approaching Gila Bend in Arizona as dusk gathered over the skyline. You had already gotten off of I-10 and onto the smaller highway that would take you to Yuma. From there it would be an easy drive to Santo Padre, one you had even made before. You had every intention of driving through the night, desperation fluttering in your heart at the thought of home. You were hungry again, and you could hear Cristóbal’s stomach grumbling from the passenger seat, but you were dangerously low on gas.

Pulling into a small gas station in Gila Bend, you went inside the store to pay, bringing Cristóbal with you. When you came back out, your breath hitched in your throat and you froze. A police officer was standing beside the car, inspecting the shattered back window. Flashbacks flooded your brain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force them out. Through the rapid swirling in your mind, you felt Cristóbal squeezing your hand hard, the touch pulling you out of your trance. Immediately, your mind went into overdrive, laying out a plan.

You approached the car, schooling your features into a timid expression.

The burly, dark-haired officer looked up curiously at your approach, and you caught the slightest softening in his eyes as he studied you and the child clinging to you. He looked young and green, fresh on the job, and you wanted to use that to your favor.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, hands authoritative on his hips.

“Evening,” you murmured, dropping your gaze meekly.

“You know it’s illegal to drive with a busted window?” he asked sternly.

You let all of the stress of the last couple of days pour into your brain, breaking the dam behind your eyes. Tears tumbled freely over your cheeks as you looked back up at him and he startled slightly at the sight.

“I’m so sorry, officer,” you sniffled. “My son and I, w–we came from El Paso, trying to get away from my husband. He smashed it as we were leaving. I’m just trying to get us to California so we can stay with my brother.” Your voice caught on a sob, cracking on the last syllable.

The officer’s stance softened and your heart lifted just slightly. His inexperience was showing.

“Who is this car registered to?” he asked.

Your chest tightened as you prayed he wouldn’t run plates or ask to see documentation. “It’s mine, sir,” you whispered, meeting his eyes with your most sorrowful look. “He just didn’t like that we were leaving.” You hoped that you looked wretched enough to prevent him from asking too many questions.

The officer pursed his lips, his thumb lightly tapping his utility belt. “Where you headed to in California, ma’am?” he asked.

“Palm Desert,” you lied smoothly, letting your lower lip tremble for good measure. “I have family there, sir.”

The officer hesitated as he considered what to do next. “And you’ll be safe there?” he asked. “Does your husband know where you’re headed?”

“Probably, sir. Th–they’re the only family I have. But they’re going to help me file a protective order against him. And... start the divorce process,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet in the dirt. You felt a quick pang in your heart as you said the words, ones that weren’t too far from true in another time.

Perhaps sensing that it was a good time to lay it on thick, Cristóbal tugged on your hand. As you glanced down at him, he reached his arms up and you pulled his weary form into your arms, depositing him on your hip.

The officer studied the pair of you intently, then sighed. “Alright. I’m not going to write you a ticket, but once you get to Palm Desert, you need to get that window fixed, do you understand me?”

You nodded fervently. “Thank you – officer, thank you so much,” you stammered, hugging Cristóbal tight. The officer tipped his hat and turned on his heel, making his way towards his police cruiser. Your body felt limp as the rush wore off yet again. Your mind reeled, pushing the limits of what you could handle without sleep. You needed to get home, and soon.

You slid into the driver’s side seat and slid Cristóbal over, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

Praying for an uneventful last leg of your journey, you pulled away from the fluorescent lights of the gas station, headed yet again towards the moonlit horizon.

Part VI of Los Guardianes

[saphirered]

I’m in love with your writing and binged your entire page one night lol

Could I request a story with Caleb where the M9 find a wounded reader on the run from people who want to use her for her very powerful magical abilities. She doesn’t trust Caleb at first because he’s a wizard and just as she opens up to him and starts to develop feelings discovers he has been studying her powers - thought with no bad intentions. Some good old angsty enemies to lovers type of beat. Preferably with a good ending but do what you wish ;))

Apparently I'm giving you more stuff to binge as this is looking more and more like a several parter 😅. Prepare for loads of angst and conflict and some good hurt/comfort to come but for now, here comes part 1! 😘

Nobody pays attention to a vagrant dressed in rags, looking about a week past their last proper bath begging on the side of the road for money or standing by a shop, mouth watering at the food. Nobody pays attention to what they don’t want to see in their pristine cities. Not unless they want to chase you away because you’re in their way or you’re tarnishing their image. Speaking about image, sometimes some rich folk will take pity upon you, casting a coin your way to make themselves look good and generous in the eyes of others.

That’s exactly what you became when you needed to disappear. You needed to become unseen, unnoticed and a shadow among a crowd. You succeed casting away all remainders of your previous life because in the end, your life is worth more to you than your earthly possessions. Survival above all. You’ll live this way until you can get somewhere where no one will question you, or where you’ll be under the protection of others, far away where your enemies cannot reach you. Maybe Vasselheim is a good place to go? They’re not fond of the arcane magics. Sure you’ll have to give up using some of your own gifts but it’s worth being able to live your life freely.

You’re still a ways away from Vasselheim and you don’t have the funds to get there yet. Even if you make it to a port, stowing away on a ship is fine but you can’t trust them to not throw you overboard or leave you stranded at the nearest island to save provisions. And that’s if they don’t hand you over to any authorities and risk you getting back to square one. You’ll have to wander around Wildemount until you’re able to book passage or find somewhere to lay low, forever on the move. It’s not the worst and you get used to it pretty quickly.

Weren’t you lucky when you saw the recent champions of the Victory Pit were strolling around town flaunting their winnings. You need food. You need warm clothes. And most of all, you could do with some extra change in your pocket. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal all of it of course. Just enough to get by and they wouldn’t notice. So you trail them, sticking to the shadows. They don’t seem to notice you.

Then you struck. You got the coin pouch from the ostentatious one. It was child’s play really. He didn’t even notice you lifting the pouch from his belt when you brushed against his shoulder muttering an apology. You were already amidst the crowd when you heard the tiefling exclaim his coin pouch was gone and he put two and two together quickly, the charlatan he is so before you knew it they were on the lookout for someone fitting your description. You had to move quick, buy your necessities and get out of the market. You know just the place to hide out; the Evening Nip. Nobody asks questions there.

Once you found yourself safely sipping on the shitty ale served at the Evening Nip you didn’t expect the colourful group of strangers to stroll in. It was already too late when you spotted them and you had no where to go. Still your quickly gathered up the coin back into the ornate velvet pouch and put it in your own pocket hidden beneath the layers of your clothes putting your hands behind your back as you tried to make a break for the exit. They did not let you pass, a relatively buff looking woman gripping the handle of her sword stepping in front of you while another one, though shorter blocked your escape by interposing her staff.

“No funny business, friend. You have something that belongs to my companion here, and he wants it back.” The half-orc speaks as you grit your teeth. You’d really hoped to avoid this but you weren’t stupid enough to bring out the big artillery… yet… so you lift your hands in surrender and allow them to lead you over to one of the tables taking a seat of your own accord while you’re flanked by the buff woman on one side, the purple tiefling on the other and the rest of them takes up seating of their own around the table keeping an eye on you.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” The half-orc leads as the tiefling next to you holds out his hand brushing his other over your shoulder in a soft push, mimicking what you had done when you pickpocketed him. Are they mocking you? Bastards.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend.” You speak innocently. You know they won’t buy it anyway, their minds already made up, but it gives you just a second more to get a grasp on all of them. You’re already plotting your escape, despite the odds being turned against you. You have to try.

“Oh, I think you do, and we simply want a conversation. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this new friendship now would you?” The tiefling grins as you look at him. You can feel the strings of enchantment pricking into your mind but you know how this works. You’ll just have to play along. You smile, like being faced with an old friend, just as the spell would have you have, letting your defensive mannerism fade.

“You’re quite right. It’s no way to treat new friends. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” You glance between all of them and you feel a pair of blue eyes stare into you, right through you. There’s just something about him that doesn’t add up and you’re almost afraid he knows you’re not under the tiefling’s spell after all but you do whatever you can to not show that on your face and play along.

“Should we get some drinks to commemorate new friends?” You suggest about to get up but the woman in blue’s staff moves across the table right onto your shoulder urging you to stay in place. You don’t look fazed and merely amused with this action as if it is a harmless joke and not a threat. The tiefling moves the staff from your shoulder as you turn your attention back to him as he smiles.

“I think that’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Drinks on me.” He stands with you and begins leading you over to the bar. Clive takes the order and begins pouring the ale as requested while the tiefling keeps conversation with you, completely oblivious and detached from his friends. You play along and when you reach to the coin pouch, you pull out the coins owed to the barkeep. The tiefling smiles and you can see from your peripheral the red head notices too. Both confirm you have the coin pouch. So once you pay you reach for your pocket grasping for a short iron rod placing it in your hand, whispering words under your breath as the tiefling talks to the barkeep, your hands begin to move according to the familiar motions and before the redhead can warn his lavender companion, the tiefling is frozen in place unable to move and you’re making a break for the door.

Spells fly left and right and you dodge a few, take the damage from others as the fighters dependant on close range rush for you. A crossbow bolt hits your thigh and a large cat’s claw appears in front of you. You try to dodge it reaching for you but it catches you and holds you in place despite your struggling to get free. They circle you, bind your hands, take back the coin pouch and your own limited belongings from you as you fight back trying to keep them away from you but you’re just alone and they are the many.

You feel helpless and desperate. That’s when you make eye contact with the blue eyed wizard. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. Not for who you are directly, but the way you’re acting and lashing out, like some caged animal wishing desperately to be free, like a creature on the run, like you’re two sides of the same coin. His eyes reveal to you pain and suffering and pity but you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone’s pity.

“Why did you steal that coin?” The wizard asks as you glare at him from your seated position on the ground.

“Why does anybody steal anything? I’m hungry. I’m cold and I’m broke as hell.” You spit none too kindly.

“Then get a job. Make some money. Or at least learn to be a good thief.” The rude woman snorts. You roll your eyes. Typical. You know plenty of people like her, maybe you even used to be like her but not anymore. You grew out of that the hard way. She will too, in time.

“None of you noticed until you went to pay for something.” You grin and the woman is about to lunge for you at your provocation. So easy to piss that one off. Funny, actually.

“I don’t think she can just get a job. Not a regular one anyway.” The wizard observes as he stares into you. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Your silence, biting your lip says enough. You don’t have anywhere to go. Once you did but that’s gone. Torn away from you.

“How about this? You spent a good deal of my friend’s coin but we’ll give you the opportunity to make it back as a repayment. Stick around for a little bit and go our separate ways when the debt is repaid?” There’s some protests but the half-orc quiets them down when the wizard speaks up in your favour. He doesn’t trust you, not after the stunts you just pulled, especially not when the look on your face mirrors his own so closely but perhaps it’s something within him that calls to him to make right a wrong, or prevent another soul to be lost to the troubles he’s faced.

With these idiots bound to make a scene they’ll call attention to themselves and by default that means away from you. This might work in your favour. They’re adventurers and given that they seem somewhat familiar with the Evening Nip, you can only assume they’re not exactly always on the right side of the law. You’re not judging but that gives you some safety and assurance should things go south or you need a quick way out. And if things really do turn in your favour, they’ll be your cover to places and funds to get you far far away from this hell hole.

“Looks like you got yourselves a new companion then, friends.” You don’t smile, only displaying an expression so neutral that makes the wizard think for a second he might have made a mistake but for now you have mutual interests and if there’s anything he can count on, it’s the reliability of a common goal, and a lot to lose should you get outed.

So next you know, you’re somewhat absorbed into their little group, learning their names and where they’re from, chatting happily but you can’t help but notice that yours and Caleb’s stories are similar in some ways, mostly the lack of detail. You’ve been raised within the Empire, but found yourself on a less fortunate path fending for yourself. The only difference between you and him is that he found Nott on his path while you had remained alone. The group didn’t seem to mind your lack of details, going with the excuse you’re not about to bare your life story to the people you only just met and you’re lucky. You hadn’t told anyone what happened since you’ve been on the run and you don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, especially not to people who haven’t earned your trust yet.

Of course you’ve been roomed with Caleb and Nott, finding yourself in one of the most expensive inns in the city, paid for by the group. Unlike Nott, who goes through your stuff when she thinks you’re not looking, Caleb is the perfect roommate. He doesn’t cross any boundaries, ask too many questions or has any annoying habits. He just reclines on his bed, going through his spellbook, transcribing new spells to add to his own collection. Every time he does you get extremely uneasy and snappy and do whatever you can to not be in the same space as the wizard. It doesn’t do your roommate relationship any good and may leave you at odds at times. Caleb may not understand why but it’s not his place to ask questions, nor does he think you’ll actually answer them. Instead you make up excuses, helping Beau with training, letting Jester braid your hair, keeping Fjord company while Molly claims their room for one of his escapades, getting some booze for Nott, or when Yasha is there, watch the storms with the woman, anything to get you out of that shared room with the wizard.

————

Rain hits the window of your room in the Pillow Trove as the redheaded wizard strolls in throwing his backpack on his bed and sitting down with a deep sigh. You look up over the edge of the book you’re reading seeing the wizard soaked through the bone wringing out his hair best he can. With a wave of your hand and words uttered under your breath you grin as the water evaporates from Caleb’s form, leaving his hair slightly more curly and frizzy, and his clothes warm and comfy. He gives you a look as you continue reading as if you’re completely unaware of anything going on in the room, completely absorbed into your book. Ignoring Caleb.

“I didn’t take you for the type that reads smutty romance novels.” He comments and gestures towards Courting of the Crick. You finally look at Caleb as if he only just gained your attention, as if you’re only just aware of his presence in the room. Both of you know better but this is how it is.

“You wouldn’t. But according to Jester you enjoy them very much.” You grin, having gotten to hear all about their little trip to the Chastity’s Nook. Caleb gives you a disapproving look as he begins to unpack his things, taking out the fresh ink and paper, setting out his spellbook and you mark your page, putting the book on your side table as you quickly get up and go for the door.

“Where are you off to all of the sudden?” Caleb asks as you grit your teeth. Can he not just leave you alone? Does he really trust you so little you’re not allowed to leave of your own accord?

“I’m going to see Jester and Beau in their room. Now I will bid you good day unless you think I need an escort for the room two doors down.” You snap. Okay, that may have been unnecessary. You could have at least been neutral. Too late for that now. Caleb waves his and as if dismissing you. Act like a child, get treated like a child. So you leave the room letting the door fall closed a little harder than you normally would in protest and make your way over towards Beau and Jester’s room.

Jester, happily lets you in and while Beau has definitely warmed up to you, things are still rocky. She wouldn’t go as far as calling you a friend, but more that one neighbourhood kid her parents tried to get her to play with despite the two of you never really having been friends at all. At least you can bond over your slightly criminal tendencies. It’s Jester who’s completely accepted you as one of her own, questioning you about anything and everything, preaching to you about the Traveler, gushing about her romance novels, specifically Oskar, which you’re pretty sure is actually reflecting her major crush on Fjord but let the girl dream. Who knows what will come of it?

[tuiccim]

Old Man

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader    

Word Count: 808

Warnings: Smut, NSFW 18+

A/N: This is for the HBC’s @the-ce-horniest-book-club​​ Drunk Drabbles / Divider by @whimsicalrogers​

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you doing chin ups. 

“I cleared it with the doc, Mother Hen,” you grouse at him. You had a near miss the day before. A bullet had grazed your hip. It was nothing but here was Steve making a mountain out of a molehill.

“You can take a day.” Steve eyes you. 

“Thanks, Grandpa. I’ll keep that in mind.” You throw over your shoulder as you head for the door. 

“Hey!” Steve calls after you, but you speed out the door. 

You had only been with the Avengers for a month and, truth be told, you didn’t know how to handle yourself around Steve. You were insanely attracted to the man and were forcing yourself to keep your distance. After all, there was no way that Captain America would ever go for you. So, you kept him at arm’s length with jokes and jabs at his age in the hope that he won’t realize how badly you want to jump him. 

---

A few hours later you walk into the kitchen and spot Steve bent down in front of the refrigerator. You stare slack jawed at the perfect ass he’s displaying. The man was built like the statue of a Greek god. You could bounce quarters off his ass. The door clatters close as Steve rises and it, luckily, rouses you from your stupor. Desperate to cover your flustered demeanor you blurt, “What’s that smell? It smells like an old man in here. Oh, didn’t see you there, Rogers.” 

“Really?” Steve looks at you with disappointment and your stomach clenches. 

“Yeah, apparently.” You say quietly before you tuck tail and retreat as quickly as possible. You lean against your bedroom door, berating yourself. Why can’t you just act normal around him? Instead, you throw stupid barbs at him like an emotionally stunted idiot. 

You jump at the knock on the door. You have no doubt who is on the other side and you feel like you just might throw up. Opening the door, you are surprised when Steve just walks right in and slams the door behind him.

“Okay, that’s it! What did I do to make you dislike me so much?” He stares at you sternly with arms crossed. 

“I… you didn’t. I... don’t.” You stammer.

“Then what the hell is going on? Why are you always so…” Steve makes a vague exasperated motion. 

“Such a jerk?” You say. 

“Yeah. I’ve tried everything to show you I’m a good guy. To be nice, but you still act like you hate me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not great at showing my emotions. You are a good guy. Too good.” 

“Too good? What does that mean?” Steve looks at you in confusion. 

“I… you.. The, oh, fuck it all.” You wrap your arms around Steve’s neck and crash your lips to his. He makes a sound of surprise but before you even realize it’s happening he has you pressed against the door. His tongue flicks across your lower lip and you open to him. He devours your mouth. Your hands move to his belt buckle and undo it and his pants swiftly. You push them down enough to free his cock and he lifts you up. Your skirt is pushed up and your panties pulled to one side. In one quick thrust he enters you and for the first time your lips part as you release a cry. 

“Okay?” Steve whispers against your ear. 

“God, yes. So okay.” You breathe. 

His thrusts are deep and fast, the coil in you tightening with each one. You whimper in Steve’s ear as he fills you with each stroke. 

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear how good it feels. Fuck, wanted you so bad.”

“Steve! Harder, so close.” Your whole body feels like it’s on fire hearing him say he wants you. His hands grip your ass more tightly as he slams into you repeatedly. It’s exactly what you need and your body quakes as your orgasm washes over you. You clench around Steve as his thrusts become sloppier and with a hoarse cry he releases into you. 

You stay there for a minute breathing heavily and allowing the aftershocks to course through you. Gingerly, Steve lowers your legs and holds onto you to ensure you’re steady. You bite your lip and can’t quite meet his eyes from the shock of what had just happened. Steve’s finger gently lifts your chin and he lays a sweet kiss on your lips. 

Suddenly, you find yourself thrown over his shoulder as he strides to your bed which he throws you on. He follows you down and stretches himself out on top of you. He grins at the stunned look on your face, “You didn’t think we were finished, did you, Princess?”

Masterlist

Permanent: @bubbabarnes​ @badassbaker​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @cherthegoddess​ @ssaro​ @sherlocksmanwatson​ @cap-n-stuff​ @finleyjayne​ @caplanreads​ @connie326​ @daydreamerinadazedworld​ @bugsbucky​ @chrisevanscardigan​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @palaiasaurus64​ @rebekahdawkins​ @maaaaarveeeeel​ @tllynn15​ @learisa​ @jelly-fishy-babie​ @fistmebuckyskywalker​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @liebs82​ @honestly-dontknow​ @a-really-bi-girl​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @baddie-barnes​ @aikeia​ @paleo-runaway​ @marvelgirl7​ @starlightcrystalline​ @xxloki81xx​ @slytherinambitious​ @sallycanwait68​ @slytherdorxmd​ @fangirlforever2412​ @rainbowkisses31​ @whisperlullaby​ @thejemersoninferno​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @supraveng​ @dispatchvampire​ @juenenfeu​ @sxbby-barnes​ @allonszassbutt​ @y-napotat​ @reallymagnificentinfluencer​ @absolutemadness @harold321​ @adillard94 @buckysbaby32​

[katsukikitten]

Don't ask questions cause I don't know how I wrote this in one sitting 😂 tw mentions of blood/wounds. 18+ content Giyuu x reader?! On my bnha blog 👀

It's humid, hot even, as the rain makes a feeble attempt to cool the Earth after a long day in the scorching summer sun. You sleep in little to nothing under the thin blanket atop a fine futon, at least fine to you when before you slept on nothing but worn tatami. And with not a care in the world, the sliding door to the breeze way slightly open to watch the storm before you passed out.

What would leave you so relaxed when their was a world of demons preying on the weak?

Well you slept behind tall walls, housing the great 12 hashira, whatever the hell that meant. All that you knew was that as long as the man with long black hair returned to you, it didn't matter that you didn't speak the same language. He has rescued you about a year ago but it is a time imprinted on your brain although you wish it was not. The hot summer air, much like it is tonight, too heavy, and the rain smelling so sweet. Almost as heavy as the body of your brother you had to hide beneath in order to avoid the thing lurking in the room. Almost as sweet as his blood that dripped from his chest onto your cheeks, into your eyes.

Thunder roars over head causing you to bolt upright, hair and thin sheet sticking to your sweaty body as you gasp for air. Feeling around your throat for the last thing your mother had given you, wrapping your hand around the small woven fibers, the small hag stone cool against your neck. A necklace for protection, if only she had finished one for everyone else.

Just as he'd come that day, he stands in the mouth of the entrance after a firm lightening strike, causing you to scurry back. The door slides shut behind the tall dark figure.

"Just me." A phrase you quickly learned, right after his soft voice hushed over you, "You're okay."

He lights the small lamps in the room, illuminating his broad shoulders and long, unruly dark hair. His deep blue eyes sparkle in the dancing flame, bags beneath them as his shoulders sag. He had been gone for weeks and although he looked exhausted, the air about him still held a certain calmness about it. Like looking over a hidden lake in the peak of summer, the moon heavy and full as it reflects in the motionless body.

Blood drips from his dark hair line and onto the floor breaking the spell.

"H-hurt?" Your mouth struggles to form around his language. Mostly self taught from the books he had left and the scraps of conversation the two of you had shared. With no one to practice with it seemed to make the task impossible. You watch his jaw tick and when he does not answer you rise to collect rain water in two separate tea pots. You set both in the hearth, as you insisted on a room with a hearth, to boil.

"Tea, wash." You explain, looking over at him this time more agitated, "Sit!"

When he does not listen your heart bursts into flames within your chest. Worry etching your face as you gently walk towards him, guiding him to sit by the small fire on a silk pillow. Slowly you push back his dark hair to further inspect his forhead only to reveal a deep gash. This time it is you who grinds their teeth, gently your hands fall down to his face. Cupping his cheeks as you turn him this way and that, fingers dancing along the nape of his neck and scalp for other unseen cuts. When you find nothing else you set your hands at the v of kimono, gingerly pushing the fabric away from his body and with it his colorful haori. The more skin that is shown to you, the more you discover gruesome gashes. You hold your breath, angry tears welling in your eyes before your hand slips down to his sword at his side. Only then do his twilight eyes cut to you, giving you the usual threatening look when you try to disarm him.

"Sword stays." He bites and it's the only time he ever does, his voice softens as does his eyes, "The water is boiling, the pot will wake the house."

You show your displeasure by breathing through your nose before going towards the pots. Removing them, letting the tea steep while you head towards your large jars of self foraged herbs . Grabbing things here and there to pack the deeper wounds with, while also grabbing your mortar and pestle to grind out a smooth ointment to fight infection. The chamomile tea has finished steeping by the time you're finished, you press the warm cup into his hand as the water in the basin bowl cools. Ripping at your nightgown to his horror when you realize you used the last of your bandages on him. You made a mental note to make more tomorrow.

The hot water burns your fingers but you do not care as you dip the white fabric into the sterile water. You slide ointment over his more superficial wounds before steadily packing the deeper on in his stomach and chest. His complexion visibly pales and with every hiss and whine from his handsome mouth, the sheets of rain seem to come down harder. You wring the strips of fabric before wrapping him gently, spending the most time on his deeper wound, wrapping around his middle, having half a mind to tear the sheet for his head wound. You reach for the thin fabric but he stops you.

"What will we sleep under?" He gives a soft smile, trying to defuse your worry, if anything it heightens it.

"Shinobu?" You ask, pointing to his wounds and he understands.

"She's fine, Shinobu didn't come with me this time." You blink, playing his sentence over in your head more slowly before you nod.

"Demon hurt you?" He gives a small nod, "I'm okay."

To which you hmph. He gives a small laugh, pulling you into his lap, giving you small kisses on your cheeks.

"My sweet doctor." His smile makes your heart throb, his twilight eyes sparkling as if they held stars. He moves some hair off of your forehead before he sighs, as if he has finally come home. He feels your skin heat beneath his touch.

"Drink tea!" You hiss, if anything to get his full attention off of you. He picks up the old cup, you still in his lap slowly sipping, his eyes growing heavier after each sip. Funny enough the longer you're in his arms, no matter how sticky the hot air makes you two feel, the heavier your eyes become too.

He sets the cup down, startling you awake, slowly undoing the strings to his belt that holds his sword, pulling you to his chest as he slides into the futon, pulling the thin blanket over the two of you. One hand firmly wrapped around your middle, the other holding his sword.

"Sweet dreams." You say, hoping that's what he normally says to you before bed, adding the rare phrase that you don't quite understand, although it sets your heart ablaze when you hear it. And you saying it makes his cheeks deepen in hue.

"Love you." It is so soft coming from your lips, your hands pulling his body closer to you so you can burry your face into his chest. He goes rigid, cheeks suddenly hurting from his smile

"Love you." He repeats back, kissing the top of your hairline.

[pascalpanic]

Tiny Dancer (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Reader and Frankie are best friends, and both think that their feelings are unrequited… with the help of a little throwback music, that might change. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: alcohol use

Word Count: 1.79k

A/N: This is my first published fic! I hope you like it, whoever’s reading this!! Thanks to my beta readers and people who helped me format, @lovetoreader​ @mandoalorian​ and @no-droids-on-sunday​, as well as a couple friends not on tumblr!

gif credit to @amahlfarouk​!

The fire crackles and casts a warm glow across Frankie’s face, highlighting the valleys and ridges of the lines in his skin, the shadow accentuating his pronounced nose. He really is beautiful, you sigh and think to yourself as you look at him. You’ve been friends with Frankie for a long time now, since high school, and the feelings you first had for him upon your introduction never quite faded. He looks completely relaxed, the bonfire, the music, and your presence putting him at ease. 

You tear your eyes from his face as you see him shifting, not wanting him to notice that you were most definitely staring. He picks up his phone and presses a button, shuffling the oldies playlist he chose and allowing John Denver’s Take Me Home, Country Roads to play through his Bluetooth speaker sitting on the table between the two of you. You give a laugh. “Good memories with this one,” you say with an easy smile on your face and look over at him, nudging his leg with your boot-covered foot. 

Frankie definitely agrees as he smiles back at you, his nose scrunching and his dimple showing. “Oh god. You almost got us kicked out of that bar for how loud you screamed this,” he chuckles and nudges your leg back, his strength moving your leg significantly farther than you nudged his. 

The two of you stop your brief chatter and start singing along. Frankie is loud and off-key, his baritone perfectly complimenting your equally out-of-tune voice. Both of you mumble through the first verse, not entirely sure of the words to this part. As it comes to the chorus, however, it’s a completely different story. The two of you start bellowing the words, laughing and grinning at each other. 

-

That night at your local bar was the closest Frankie ever got to kissing you. 

You had both had only enough alcohol to be lightly tipsy, meaning one-and-a-half drinks for you and three for Frankie. The bar had a machine that allowed you to pick the music, and Frankie eagerly used his quarters on song after song that you requested. Your face, flushed from alcohol, was closer to his than normal. He bit down on his lip and looked down as your faces got closer through the laughter, and as he looked up he swore he saw it in your eyes, exactly what he was feeling. 

The song ended and another came on, and an entirely different spark entered your eyes. “Oh my God!” You giggled. “I love this song! This is, like, the best,” you raved as the guitar kicked in. 

“The only song of the night you didn’t request is the best?” He teases you, the moment gone as you lean back to start singing along. “Really, you like John Denver?” He asks over the loud music and chatter. 

Nodding enthusiastically, your grin made him grin back. “Of course, Francisco. I’m a woman of culture,” you tease right back happily and push his shoulder. You knock back the rest of your second drink and slide off your barstool. “Come on, we’re dancing,” you practically shout and drag him off of his and to the small clearing for dancing

Frankie begrudgingly follows. He’s not much of a dancer, but he’d do anything for you. That much was obvious, he thought. As you reach the floor, you start belting the lyrics at the top of your lungs, audible even over the hum of the bar. 

-

As the chorus ends, you two both try to mumble the verse again, neither of you knowing the words. “Good memories,” he says again, a wistful smile on his face as he sits back in his chair a little further. 

“The best. You’re a good dance partner,” you smile along with him. “Even if that song wasn’t really us dancing. It was more standing close to each other while I burst your eardrums with my opera-worthy voice,” you sarcastically grin and elbow him lightly in the forearm. He makes a fake whimper of pain and pouts. “Catfish,” you laugh and shake your head at him softly, “the military veteran, special ops pilot extraordinaire, wounded by my elbow.”

“Just because I was in the military doesn’t mean I don’t feel pain anymore, hermosa,” he frowns at you and elbows you back. You make a similar noise and he grins. “See? Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

The two of you continue on with your playful banter, the way it’s always been for the two of you. You bicker and shove lightly, both of you separately thinking the same thing: that the main reason you love to push and shove isn’t because you see them like a sibling, but because you want any excuse you can to touch them. 

Your bickering continues as the song changes, and a break in the action causes a lull that allows you to notice the new song that came on. Grinning, you grab his phone and turn up the volume before setting it back on the small table between the two of you. “Oh my god, I love Elton John,” you coo as you hear his familiar voice singing Tiny Dancer. 

“I’m well aware,” he shoots back and shakes his head. “Add that song to the list of reasons my eardrums are broken. You know, people would think it’s because of the helicopters that I have hearing damage. What would they think if I told them it was because your tiny ass body has the strongest vocal chords to exist?” He groans, raising an eyebrow at you that rests just below the brim of his classic baseball cap. 

“Tiny?” You say, jokingly aggressive. You don’t consider yourself short; in fact, you’re above average. But with Frankie Morales, you practically look like an elf. He towers over you, and it drives you insane. 

“Just like the song,” he nods then gasps. “You are tiny dancer,” he says with a pleased smile spreading across his cheeks and showing that goddamn dimple. 

Smacking his arm, you shake his head. “Don’t even go there. First of all, we both know I only dance when I’m drunk or you make me,” you laugh. “The only-”

Frankie cuts you off by standing and taking your hand, pulling you to your feet as well. “You’re tiny and now you’re dancing,” he says, smiling down at you as he wraps his free arm around his waist, the other hand still clutching yours. 

“You’re cheesy as hell, Morales, you know that?” You ask and look up at him, the baseball cap shading his chocolate brown eyes. 

Frankie shrugs, starting to sway the two of you along, carefully avoiding the fire but staying close enough that the two of you are warm. “I may have been told that before,” he says and gives you a warm smile. 

Your heart thumps increasingly harder in your chest, which is now pressed to Frankie’s as he pulls you closer and gently sets his chin on your shoulder. You’re sure he can feel it, which makes you panic slightly, which makes your heart race even faster. You rest your head against his shoulder, the position coming naturally. You’ve slow danced before, of course, as the two of you always find yourself on the dance floor, but it’s only been a few times. Rare. Dancing usually consists of you and Frankie, not touching, flailing like complete idiots. Neither of you were known for your coordination when it comes to dancing, and it has always shown. But this is nice. Completely different. 

Humming the lyrics, his throat buzzes and you can feel it where your head rests against the side of his neck. He stops humming and starts singing softly, the smile in his voice evident. 

“Hold me closer tiny dancer… count the headlights on the highway…”

Giggling softly, you break away as Frankie pulls back, making you do a spin. You squeal as you lose your balance and stumble for a moment. Once again, coordination is not your strong suit. Both of you laugh as Frankie protectively pulls you back to his chest, stopping you before you can fall. “Careful,” he chides lovingly. 

“It’s a little late to be careful now, Frankie,” you shoot back sarcastically. “I already tripped.”

You look up at him, taken aback by the tenderness in his eyes. He always looks happy to be around you, but his eyes are painfully soft as he smiles down at you. 

The look makes you inhale sharply. He can’t feel that way about you, can he? You would’ve known sooner, surely, and you’ve been friends for a long time. You’ve always been able to read him like a book, what is this new expression? Or… is it new? You ask yourself all of these questions, biting your lip softly and looking down. 

He tears his gaze away and increases the distance between you, not nearly as close, terrified that he just gave too much away. He clears his throat and takes his hat off, running a hand through his hair before replacing it. He turns away and heads for his chair. “Sorry,” he says bashfully, looking at you. “I-,”

Something emboldens you. You’re not sure what, but it’s probably the fact that you suddenly put the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle together: he likes you too. You grab his wrist and stop him. “Please don’t be sorry,” you tell him and move closer to him, your heaving chests close once again. You reach up and take off his hat, running a hair through his curls, a peace offering. An offering, maybe, for something more.

“Can I kiss you, hermosa?” Frankie asks, voice barely a rasp of a whisper as he pulls you closer with an arm around your waist. 

You nod slightly and Frankie slowly moves in, his other hand moving to your cheek as he allows your lips to meet, soft and perfect. You sigh lightly and bring your free hand to his cheek as well, the other holding his ballcap and dangling at your side. You kiss him back contently, allowing the slow and gentle moment to rest. 

He eventually is the first to break away, his heart in his eyes and your faces close together. “I…” he wants to say something but can’t find the right words. 

“Me too,” you whisper back with a chuckle, brushing his curls from his face. “Me too, Frankie,” you say and blissfully kiss him again, the swell of the music perfectly matching the rhythm of your kiss. 

He breaks away after a few moments, smiling softly at you again. “I told you, you’re her, you’re tiny dancer,” he teases softly. “My tiny dancer?” He asks shyly, taking the hand from the side of his face and lacing your fingers together. 

“Yours,” you breathe in agreement and close the gap between you to kiss him once again.