#literally me oh my fucking god i hate that little bastard

[coffeebooksrain18]

Let's talk double standards in the HotD Fandom. Now these mostly focus on the way TBs act towards TGs so before reading this know that if you are TB you are getting called out

Let's start with one of my favorites. The Strong boys being bastards.

TB screams about how we shouldn't hate on bastards in the show or in real life. That they had no choice in that aspect of their life. Which is fair and true but they then turn around and yell at ANYONE who points out the Strong boys are infact bastards. God forbid you do what you preach?

Tbs hate Otto because he schemes and wanted his blood on the throne. But they love Corlys even though he did the exact same thing...multiple times. Both used their daughters in hopes the King would have a son with her and that son would sit the throne. Corlys failed so he turned to Rhaenyra and in the end had to pray Jace didn't fuck him over. Both are schemers, both put their daughter out there to be Queen. They did the same thing but since Corlys sided with Rhaenyra now this is swept under the rug.

Calling Criston a Pedo for sleeping with Rhaenyra even though he told her NO multiple times, all while going heart eyes for the Daemyra brothel scene...yeah, explain that to me without seeming racist or like you have double standards.

Yet again something to do with Criston vs Daemyra. TBs especially Daemyra fans LOVED the scene of Daemon and her on Driftmark the night of Daemons WIFE'S funeral. Yes funeral! But they hate Alicent and Criston for having a sexual relationship AFTER Viserys was long dead. They also love to say Rhaenyra is showing progressiveness by sleeping with Harwin, all while hating Alicent for even thinking about sex.

Daemon kills a four year old boy? Oh thats fine a son for a son is fair. But Aemond wanting to take Lucs eye after all these years? Now that's psychotic behavior.

Rhaenyra not giving a flying fuck her brother lost his eye and infant asking for him to be sharply questioned, which meant tortured (and yes it did you can literally look up a quote of Maegor stating little Prince Viserys be sharply questioned before the nine year old boy is tortured) is all good. But Alicent watching as her husband doesn't give a fuck their son lost a eye, but carefree over a insult and then demand for Lucs eye in a EMOTIONAL AND DESPERATE STATE, is wrong?

Rhaenyra wanting to kill Aemond after Lucs death is warranted. But Aegon wanting Rhaenyra dead after Baby Jaehaerys died isn't supposedly?

Alright that's all I got for now, tell me if you want anymore and I'll do them!

[vaguenotions]

Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)

Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

���fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[beardysuits]

Bulking Up pt 1

Ian, just the sight of him inspired conflicting emotions ranging from rage, to jealousy, to desire, to lust. Ian was the pretty boy of the office and the boss's favorite. He could literally do no wrong, and yet, I was probably the only one who knew what he was really like. See Ian and I went to college together and even participated in the same internship program. He and I also had to share the same job duties, schedule, and workload. Only Ian decided his time wasn't worth the work and decided it was up to me to do the work for both of us. Obviously initially I told him absolutely no way, but that all changed when he got some dirt on me.

Mr. Galveston was head of the law firm Ian and I worked at and if we were tasked with naming the first three words which came to mind when we though of him, it would be intimidating, big, and daddy. Despite running an entire firm and raising three kids, Mr. Galveston still seemed to have the time to run every morning and lift weights. It helped too that he was graced with the hairline of a 20-year old and the skin I'm sure he had to perform a ritual sacrifice to obtain. As you can imagine, I had spent many late nights fantasizing about him, he was prime spank bank material! Unfortunately those late nights alone were not enough for me and my stupid horny brain.

I may have definitely broken some HR guidelines. One day we had a meeting where Mr. Galveston had praised my latest work and it ended with a "good job son". My cock immediately got hard and I had to adjust myself as discreetly as possible. As soon as the meeting concluded, I had to excuse myself and run to the bathroom to pump one out. What I didn't realize is that Ian had followed me, peaked over the stall door and snapped a photo of me, hand gripping my cock and cumming all over the toilet bowl.

"Say cheese," he said to me. The cheeky bastard. I begged Ian not to tell anybody what I had done and he agreed, for a price. So, that was how I got stuck working later and later hours to get the work done for both of us, while Ian sat on his ass all day flirting with our female colleagues. And the worst part about it? If Ian in some weird twist of character told me to get on my knees and blow him, I would still say yes in a heartbeat. I mean, he was built like a god. 6 pack, veiny arms, pecs like an olympian. He was a fucking model and he knew it. Meanwhile there was me, pudgy, couldn't grow a beard to save my life, and just short enough for him to call me munchkin as he held his hand out for his work. I hated his guts.

It was a typical Tuesday night at the office and I had ordered myself a pizza, which I ate at my desk while wrapping up my work and about to start Ian's. I glanced at the clock. 6 PM. I should have been able to leave an hour ago, but got held up doing some data entry Ian was tasked with at noon. Now I still had a stack of papers for him to get started on. There was a rap of knuckles at front of my desk. I looked up to find Tabitha, the office kook. She was a nice enough woman, but she certainly didn't have too many people speak with her for a reason.

"Marty, what are you doing here so late?" she asked me. I swallowed my latest bite and cleared my throat.

"Just need to finish some things here and I'll be heading out. What about you?" I asked her. She sighed and twirled the medallion she always wore around her neck.

"Catching up from my vacation. Being gone a week lets things pile up. Oh, but what I wouldn't do to return to Europe in a second..." she droned on and on about her trip, which I had heard about three times already. But, she was also one of the few people to be genuinely kind to me, so I let her ramble while I set Ian's work aside.

"Oh and goodness! I almost forgot! How could I?" he said, startling me awake after I had zoned out. She pulled her purse forward and fished around in it before holding her closed hand out to me.

"I found this little beauty while I was out there. There's a small village out in the countryside which is said to be the ancient home of witches. I saw this and just thought of you," she said. She opened up her hand, and in her palm was... a rock.

It was a pretty rock, don't get me wrong. It shone and had shimmers of jade green crackling along it's flat surface. But again, it was a rock.

"Oh wow Tabitha that's... beautiful," I told her. She nodded, took my hand, and placed the rock in my palm.

"It's said to be a wishing stone. You hold it close to your heart, wish your deepest desire to it, and place it under your pillow. It's said those who are truly worth of their wish will have it come true."

I twirled the rock around in my hand before setting it on the desk.

"Thank you Tabitha, that's very sweet of you," I told her. I really was touched she thought so nicely of me.

"Well, make sure you have that wish be a good one. Maybe even get you out of here a little earlier next time," she said with a wink. "I have to go home to the cats though, you find your way out of here soon, okay?"

I waved her off as she went the door. I got back to Ian's paperwork, but found it hard to concentrate. The stone kept catching my attention. It was like it caught the light at every angle and shone its shimmering green gaze back at me. About an hour later, I gave up and left Ian's work half done.

Once I was home, I slumped on the couch and turned on some TV. I couldn't even focus on the most mindless of shows though. Every thought came back to the stone. I fished it out of my pocket and turned it through my fingers. Wish on the stone and it would come true, yeah right....

I could see my reflection in the window next to the couch and sighed. My glasses were askew and somehow I didn't notice. I adjusted them and saw a pudgy little geek, still in his work suit, too tired to even take it off. I pushed at my belly, which for the past few weeks kept pushing harder and hard to get out of this tight button down shirt. Sighing, I looked at the stone. Why not?

I wish... I wish I could have what Ian has.

Of course that's where my mind went. Ian had it all. Looks, charm, and now a little nerd doing all of his work for him. My eyes became incredibly heavy and it was like I got hit with a tranquilizer. No surprise, working late hours had become the norm. My hand slumped behind the couch cushion and not a second later, I slumped off to sleep.

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

The ringing of my phone fluttered my eyes open. I grumbled trying to find it in the depths of the couch cushions. Eventually I found it stuck deep in the back. I held it up and turned off my alarm I had set. 6 am, perfect time to be awake. I tried to open my phone through half closed eyes. It had facial recognition, but the stupid thing couldn't catch on to my face. I retired a few times before it prompted me to put in the passcode. I fumbled with it some before finally getting in, and going over some emails. I stumbled off the couch and shuffled to the bathroom.

I had to find some Tylenol, I had a killer headache. I was just about to reach the bathroom when I felt something catch on my feet and force me down. I crashed to the ground and groaned. Fuck... what the fuck even happened? I turned around and saw my pants around my ankles. Or... wait what? I could see down my legs, which were half the size in girth, but twice the size in length. That's... a trick of the morning grog right?

I turned myself around to sit on the ground and looked my legs up and down. They were hairier than before, and the skin was taut with muscles spreading across the curvature of my calves. Holy shit what the fuck was going on? I panicked standing up, kicking off my pants in the process. Rushing to the bathroom, I threw the lights on and was met with Ian in the reflection!

Holy fuck!

I grabbed at my cheeks and pulled at them, which Ian mirrored perfectly in the reflection. Grabbing at my chest through the now oversized shirt, I patted myself, feeling a rock-hard torso in return. I gripped at the button and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying across the bathroom floor. I was met with Ian's muscles greeting me. Tracing my (Ian's?) fingers over them, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Oh my god, I was Ian! Almost instinctively, my fingers rubbed over his nipples and I could feel the same shiver race down my body.

I looked down and found Ian's cock flopping, not even attempting to be contained my XXL underwear that was at least three sizes too big now. My hand was trembling as I slipped the boxers down and found his veiny cock fly almost wildly.

It had just as many veins as his arms did and was almost as thick as them it felt like. I took my new hands and gripped the shaft, it felt so natural to be holding on to it. Even a couple of strokes in and I found out that Ian was quick to precum. My new cock was instantly lathered up as I slicked it back and forth, each pump making his cock feel even girthier somehow.

I laid one of his hands down on the bathroom counter and looked at myself. Ian was hunched over, stroking his cock and smiling mischievously at me.

"Oh fuck daddy, that feels so good," I said without even thinking. "Ohhhh... FUCK Mr. Galveston, pound my tight hole!" I yelled. I thrusted myself back and forth, fantasizing about my boss bucking my hips as he plowed his thick daddy dick deep into Ian.

"Harder! Faster! That's right sir, breed meeeeee," I begged. I bit my lip and made Ian look back at my pathetically. Oh if I could only get Mr. Galveston to ACTUALLY fuck my new hole, make me his little bitch. I pumped harder and harder, fucking my new hand. I could feel the cum build until eventually climax hit.

I let go of my cock and moaned as loud as I could, feeling Ian's cock spray his delicious cum all over the bathroom. It was like a fire hose was set loose, letting streams spray around the room. Each bit hit harder than the last. Eventually I was left standing in the bathroom, breathing heavily and watching as Ian tried to stand up straight after spraying his essence everywhere.

Once I got control of myself again, I peered into the mirror and saw through the drips of cum, Ian's face elated. I couldn't help but smile at my new face and body, now ready to take on the world. I stuck my tongue out and lapped at the cum which was beginning to run down the mirror's face. It tasted so fucking good, like pure masculinity was captured in a liquid state.

Watching Ian become my little lap dog at my bidding made me horny all over again. This was just me going solo, wait until I use my phone to download Grindr and see what fresh pieces of meat want a slice of Ian! Speaking of my phone, it started to rumble on the counter. I picked it up and my heart sank, it was Ian. I cleared my throat, trying to emulate my old voice before answering.

"Uhh.. he-hello?" I choked out.

"What did you do you son of a bitch?!" Pierced through the other line. I coughed again.

"Ian? What's going on?" I asked.

"Like you don't fucking know! What do you look like right now? Who the fuck are you?!"

I recognized the voice, it was mine! Oh shit, I didn't just become Ian, we swapped!

"Ian, I gotta come clean, I'm you," I told him. What was the point in hiding it?

"What. Did. You. DO!?" He screeched. Damn, was my voice always that high pitched? It was whiny and pathetic.

"First off, I didn't do anything! I just woke up and found myself like this. Secondly, calm down, we'll figure this out. Just... just get dressed and get to the office. We'll figure it out there, we need to act normal," I told him.

"Oh yeah fucking right! What the fuck am I supposed to wear? All I have here are my clothes and your fat fuck of a body sure as shit isn't going to fit in them!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," I said. "Listen, the sooner you get there, the sooner we figure this out. Better get dressed munchkin." Calling me by my old nickname felt empowering in some way. Before he could retaliate, I hung up the phone on him. Looking at myself back in the mirror and grinned back.

"Yeah, like I'd ever give this up," I said. But, I should probably get dressed and meet up with him. Looks like it's going to be a fun day. Now, let's see if I can find anything tight enough to show off this body.

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 14 - NingNing x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

One thing was clear about your relationship, if it could be called like that, and that was that you two don't get along. There was something that people could call hate between you two. That was why was so weird the first time that happened. 

That day you were fighting over something stupid, like always, but things get physical and Yizhuo pushed you out of the way. You didn’t want to move, thighs escalated and you two almost feel off. And the next thing you knew was that you were kissing, kinda violently but kissing after all. And you ended fucking over your sister bed. 

After all she put back on her clothes and ran out of your house. You never talked about that what happened that day, as if you had and unspoken agreement to forget that. But happened again, and again, and again, but you still hate each other. 

Ning Yixhuo is your sister’s best friend, so she’s always around your house, even on some family dinners and trips. You at least see her two times per week, and that annoy you, because she’s annoying. Her laugh is so loud, she is so conceited, so proud of herself that you can’t stan her. But she’s so good fucking, she does things that nobody has did to you. And puta that expression when she’s having an orgasm that drives you crazy. In so many ways she’s amazing, and that make you hate her even more.

For all that was weird when that evening she presented at your front door with a clear proposition to you.

"What's up little piece of shit. Are you alone?” She knew you was, she knew the rest of your family was out of town for the weekend.

“What do you want?” You asked, pushing her head when she was trying to sneak in the house. “You know my sister isn't here.”

“Oh, right. And since you're soooo pathetic you don't have friends.” Yizhuo pushed you and entered the house. With great annoyance you closed the door behind her.

“What do you want? Torturing me when my sister is around now isn't enough for you?” 

“ Are you up for a quickie?” She blatantly asked out of the blue. “What mean that face? Of course I hate you, but the way you fuck me is so addictive. And I hate you even more for that. So what's gonna be? I need and answer now... Bastard." She added that last word as if were making sure that you understood that she still hates you.

“Are you being serious?” You grabbed your hair not knowing what’s happening. “This is some kind of twisted joke, isn’t it?”

“Do you wanna fuck me or not?” Yizhuo put her hand on your crotch and strokes you over the clothes. “I don’t have all day.”

“Oh come on!!” You knew whats gonna be your answer even before speak. “If that make you leave me alone I’ll fuck the shit out of you.”

“Fine.” Yizhuo throws you a condom that only Gods knows where she was hiding, and start undressing between giggles. “Put it on. I’m not getting a STD from yout little winnie.”

“Right here? This is my family house doorway, if you haven¿t noticed.”

“Oh! We can go to the living room. That couch is very comfy.” She was already half way to the living room when she pointed that about the couch. You couldn’t not look at her beautiful round ass when she was walking. 

Despite your bad relationship you have to admit that Yizhuo is very hot. If she weren’t that annoying probably you would had tried to hit on her a lot of time ago. Her curves were delicious and the shape of her body could drive crazy almost anyone. She literally could have any other guy at her feet, but instead she decided to pick you to fulfill her desires, and that inflates your ego.

Releasing and audible sigh you start undressing, tossing your clothes away on a totally not sexy but quick way, and immediately reunite with Yizhuo on the living room. She’s already lying on the couch, putting and show to you. Her hand is between her open leg warming her shaved pussy and giving you something to get hard. She already have two fingers inside her when you finished putting on the condom she gave you moments ago. 

“Hurry up!! I’m starting to get bored.”

You roll your eyes before grabbing her by her thighs and drag her to the edge of the couch. She uses the hand that was on her pussy to align your shaft with her wet entrance and you slam your entire length inside her without a warning. 

“Fucking bastard be kind!!” Yizhuo slaps you in the face leaving a trace of her slick on your now red cheek, but that does nothing more that turn you on. 

“I thought you wanted to get dicked so bad that couldn’t wait any longer.” Your pace is fast from the start, not giving Yizhuo any chance to get used to have your dick inside her. And her far from hate it is in ecstasy, after all that was why she was here on first place. 

“Your fucking dick feels so good!! OMG!!” Yizhuo was practically crying out of pure pleasure, and you have to admit that you enjoy so much having her like that. It was so pleasant have the girl you hate the most with her legs open for you, with her pussy squeezing your shaft and her face grimacing with pleasure.

“You can even shut up when I’m fucking you. Why you have to be so annoying?”

“Because I hate you but I’m addicted to your pathetic winnie… YES, YES.. LIKE THAT!!” She scream when you put one of her legs over your shoulder and turn her over so that she is lying on one of her sides, with her legs more open than ever. “Fucking piece of shit, you gonna make me cum!”

“What a needy bitch you’re.” You draw circles over her clit and that’s enough to make her reach her climax. Yizhuo is shaking and moaning over the couch while you keep fucking her at the same fast pace. She doesn't protest, instead just grab your hand and intertwines her fingers with yours, seeking for some support.

“Le-Leave me rest.” She say with a little bit of work, so you let go of her hand and take your dick out of her soaking pussy. Both of you are panting, breathing like animal. Suddenly you feel tired and have to sit down on the floor because your thighs are burning. Yizhuo’s pussy is so good that you didn’t even noticed the effort you were putting on fucking her. 

From the floor you can see that her pretty face his red, and some of her hair is stuck to her forehead with sweat. She look beautiful like that, the idea of you being the cause of that make you feel proud again. “Bet you could take more. But I thought needy bitches like you cum fast.”

“Leave me alone… I’m ovulating.” She try to make an excuse out of that. “Wanna fuck me from behind?” Yizhuo ask already kneeling  on the floor with a lot of effort, and putting her arms over the couch to support her weight. “And don’t even try to slide on my ass, that’s totally out of limits for you… Bastard.”

“What are those manners? At least be grateful. I’m sure you would love me letting your shitty hole wide open.” 

“Just put your dick back on my pussy or I swear to god I’m leaving now.”

“Fineee Bitch. But i’m slapping you fat ass.” And you do what you say, so your hand hit her cheek making her whole butt tremble. With a smile on your face and before she can protest you slide your dick back on her wet pussy. This time you could feel how her walls adjust quickly to your length. 

Her previous orgasm made Yizhuo more sensible so you have her moaning since the first thrust. You could get used to the sounds she does while you’re fucking her if wasn´t for the poisoned words she spit to you between whimpers. Calling you names and insulting you on creative ways to try to hide her pleasure. 

One of your hands is on her waist while the other grabs her hair on a ponytail and pull it. You feel how her pussy throb when you do that. “Why you have to be so good at fucking me?” She ask while you're mercyless clapping her cheeks with your thrusts, but you don’t have answer for that because you feel the same way. Yizhuo drives you crazy and make you want more and more from her, but there is the little detail that you hate each other. So all you can do instead is just fuck the shit out of her.

“Yes fucking loser, right there!!” Obviously this isn’t the first time you fuck Yizhuo from behind, so you know how she like it and where to hit with your dick. Which inevitably leads to her second orgasm of the evening.

This time you couldn’t keep fucking her through her orgasm because her spasms are more violently makin her collapse over the floor, getting out of your grip. Your dick make a pop sound when leave her tight pussy. 

“Oh God, I can move my legs.” You can see how her thighs are still shaking and her back is moving while she’s trying to catch a breath. Her face is laying over the carpet with her massy black hair covering it.

“Get up, I ain't finished with you.”

“You didn’t listened that I can’t move?” Yizhuo says with a hint of anger in her voice. “God, my pussy aches. Just jack off looking at my ass. You love it, I saw you staring before.”

“At least you could show some gratitude and suck me off.”

“What part of I can move you don’t understand?”

“So you just came begging for my dick. I make you cum twice and all I get is jack off looking at your ass? You stupid bitch, you gonna pay for this.” Putting back on your feet you take out the condom and stark stroking your dick. You hate to admit but her ass is worth to cum for, with a perfect round shape and a delicious crack between her fat cheeks. Maybe you should take a picture to help you on your lonely nights.

Putting that thoughts away you keep stroking your shaft till the point you know you're about to cum, then you kneel beside her and point your tip to her bare butt. The first ropes of your semen hit the crack of her ass and then you pointed high to the lower part of her back, spraying your seed over her pale skin.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOOOOOOIIIINNGGG!!” You listen her cream over your giggles.

[peachsukii]

listening to fortnight got me thinking about bakugo and reader having a very brief fling, something that happened in the past during their 20s, but stuck with both of them for years.

i touched you for only a fortnight i touched you, but i touched you

fast forward to living in the same city, the two of you now in your 30s and end up becoming neighbors by happenstance. you're both married to other people since you only talked in shared friend group settings after said fling.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february

you watch his wife water her flowers in the garden out back while making coffee in the kitchen every goddamn morning. you have no clue why it irks you so much, that the sight of her stupid smile makes you wanna punch her lights out.

occasionally, you run into bakugo at your mailboxes after a long day at work. small talk is the only thing you two can muster - a comment about the weather or harmless compliments about each other's appearance.

"sure rained like hell yesterday."

"nice sweater, your wife buy it for you?"

"god, it's too fucking hot today."

"that dress looks nice on ya."

one night, both of your spouses are away when a storm comes raging through the city. your power goes out, leaving you in the dark because your stupid husband forgot to replace the generator. from your windows, you see bakugo's household has power and decide to hightail it over for some company.

he answers the door with a confused look on his face. "the fuck you doin' in the rain? get in here!"

bakugo makes you a coffee to share with him in the kitchen, bullshitting through the night like you used to do as twenty somethings. it felt natural, your heart soaring as you watched him laugh and retell jokes from the past. when the conversation died down, you blurted out something you didn't plan to vocalize to anyone.

"i think my husband's cheating. sometimes i just wanna kill the bastard."

caught off guard by your admittance, bakugo quirks an eyebrow at you in response. "little extreme, but i'm sure that could be arranged."

"would be cheaper than a damn divorce. that asshole would take everything from me."

he snickers, taking another sip of his coffee. "think my wife's doin' the same. comes home late and shit, never can tell me why."

"how'd we get stuck with this shit luck?" you retort, forcing a laugh from your tightened chest.

"could be worse. we're neighbors, that's fuckin' lucky for me."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"oh? i'm starting to think that's not a coincidence anymore."

bakugo sets his mug on the countertop, turning to face you while crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.

"might'a convinced my wife to move here. thought maybe we could be friends again."

"so you bought a fucking house next to me instead of just calling to go to dinner?" you ask mockingly, a smirk on your face as you awaited his bullshit answer.

he shakes his head with a grin of his own. "sure did."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"how come you never ask or invite me over then? we're literal neighbors, kats."

"pretty sure my wife's scared of ya. plus, i want time with you, not us."

that makes your heart skip a beat.

"hell of a way to say you miss me." you pause before setting your own cup down on the counter. "i'm glad you're here."

"me too."

right as he's approaching you, the front door swings open.

"babe, i'm home!" his wife calls, handful of shopping bags. she sees you standing in the kitchen aside bakugo - you give her a soft wave.

"oh, hi. i didn't expect company tonight."

"her dumbass husband forgot to replace their generator. just helpin' her out."

she gives him a glare, tilting her chin up at him, almost condescendingly, as she assesses his answer.

"how unfortunate. stay as long as you need, i'm gonna go put this away."

and with that, she leaves for their bedroom to unload her shopping haul. once she's out of earshot, you turn to bakugo and chuckle under your breath.

"oh yeah, she hates me."

bakugo rolls his eyes. "let her be miserable, it's her strong suit. come on, let's go take'a look at that generator."

the generator works just fine, you unplugged it before coming over.

you were curious if there was a spark leftover between you two, only to find the fire was not only stoked, but never fully extinguished.

blasty tags; @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon @starieq ✨

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[hazelfoureyes]

HateJokeFuck

*very sacrilegious*

Alastor knew the best way to have a laugh on Halloween! Bother the fuck out of Lucifer. Literally. Nuns don’t wear pants, right?

For my sweetest @minkdelovely

「warnings/promises: TopLucifer x BottomNun!Alastor, hate fucking, clawing skin, wings come out, HCU (hazel cinematic universe), threats to tear Alastor apart, The Lords Prayer bastardized, anal creampie, still ace ass Alastor, rough sex」

Minors dni

Alastor wasn’t particularly excited for a Halloween party at the hotel, even if he knew watching the others could be fun.

But then he had an idea to make the evening positively entertaining.

Which led him to where he was now, pressed against Niffty’s various cleaning supplies in a hallway closet, ass pounded by his furious majesty.

Alastor had thought it would be funny to wear a nun’s habit, having hand stitched little X’s and an inverted cross in red thread to personalize the outfit. 

While heaven did exile Lucifer and systemically murder his subjects, Luci still had a soft spot for what was now religious imagery. Devoting your life and body to the Lord was something he thought to be quite admirable.

So when Alastor walked into the party dressed in holy attire, Luci saw red. And black. And white. The colors of Alastor’s sinful costume. Dressed as Dadcula, Dad Dracula, obviously (Which was just Lucifer in a black cape and bat ear headband), Luci marched up to the radio demon.

“Hallway, now.” He grabbed Alastor by the arm, the nun leaving the party as quickly as he had arrived. Charlie saw the men rush out the room and worried a fight was brewing.

“Yes, your majesty?” Alastor steepled his hands together, “what’s the matter, pray tell?”

Lucifer smacked his hands down, “Stop that! You are making a mockery of centuries of worship!” Sputtering, he gestured up and down. “Take that off right fucking now!” He stomped his foot and managed a calming breath, “Please.”

The grin should have been enough to tell Luci he’d walked into a trap, “Who am I to deny my liege?” Alastor found the zipper in the back and pulled it down, letting the smock open and fall forward off his arms. Lucifer’s eyes followed the habit down from neck, to bare chest, to toned stomach, to-

“Are you-!” Lucifer’s hands came out to hide Alastor’s exposed cock, “naked!?” He seethed.

A voice called from the ballroom entrance, “Dad? Is everything alright?” Charlie was positive her father and Alastor were already tearing into each other. 

To her credit, they would be soon enough.

Panicked and terrible under pressure, Lucifer opened the closest door and shoved both himself and the now nude Alastor into it.

It was, to his despair, a broom closet. Perhaps two people could fit comfortably had it not been occupied with a shelving system of supplies, mops, brooms, and a large outdated vacuum cleaner.

As soon as he pushed them in and closed the door, he found his body pressing into Alastor’s bare ass.

Alastor was certain there was a God now, and he a favored child. What hilarious developments. Even he couldn’t orchestrate such comedy gold.

“Oh, Father, is this confessional? I have a mighty long list.”

Lucifer smacked at Alastor’s back, “Do not call me Father!”

“Daddy?” Alastor asked, coyly looking over his shoulder to the smaller man.

“Dad?” Charlie echoed.

Lucifer’s hands shot up to cover Alastor’s mouth, “Shhh, or I will kill you once and for aAAH,” a moan breaking through his sentence as Alastor ground back into his crotch.

Alastor mumbled into Luci’s palm.

“What’s wrong?” Vaggie joined, her and Charlie now feet from the door.

“I thought Dad and Al were out here bickering…” 

Alastor began grinding himself into Luci, feeling something there for him in the King of Hell’s lap.

Lucifer couldn’t help the reaction, Alastor had been intentionally winding him up for weeks.

Reaching for the newspaper and slipping, hand coming down onto Luci’s crotch. Needing something on a high shelf and just having to press his much larger body upon Luci’s smaller frame. He even sat on Lucifer once, joking, “Oh I didn’t see you there, hmm.” A size joke and groping combo.

He was touch starved and primed, so when he looked down to see skin and curves and warmth offered to him, he simply lost it.

Angel Dust had been so kind as to teach him the word hatefuck recently. And he was going to hatefuck the sass out of Alastor.

Was he using that correctly? Unimportant, a fleeting concern as he fought to undo his belt with one hand.

“They’re probably here somewhere fucking around, don’t worry about it babe. Come back and enjoy your party.” Vaggie, a psychic of some sorts, led her love away just in time.

Luci wasn’t sure he could keep it up knowing his daughter was just outside the door. But that little obstacle was gone. When Luci didn’t immediately remove his hand Alastor snaked his tongue out and around his fingers.

“Gross,” Lucifer took back his hand, thinking for a second as he stared at the wet fingers before sliding them between Alastor’s cheeks. The taller man shivered. “Did you…” the realization he had been played hit him like a piano, oddly familiar but still quite heavy. “Why are you already lubed and stretched?”

Alastor reached down slowly, face smug as he slipped a tiny bottom from a single garter belt on his right thigh. 

“Holy water?”  Luci took it from Alastor before his face fell flat, nose curling as he sniffed the air, “Is this coconut lube oil? You’re foul.” He used his teeth to unscrew the lid and poured the contents down Alastor’s lower back, “I hope you understand. You make me regret  millennia of human free will more than I already did.”

“Your majesty I cannot get any harder, please stop the dirty talk.” Alastor shimmied his hips, elusive plush black-topped, red-bottomed tail swishing along.

Lucifer was briefly mesmerized, why was it so cute? Alastor should enter every room ass first, tail out. He’d be much more palatable. Blinking away the thought he swiped his leaking member up and down the demon’s ass as he spread lubricant on himself.

“I hate you, please don’t forget that.” Lucifer lined himself up and pressed in, groaning as he effortlessly was taken to the hilt. Alastor had prepared well. Another second to imagine Alastor in the nuns' habit, legs spread and hands busy working himself open for Lucifer. Alastor’s breath hitched as Luci’s twitched and grew slightly in him. 

Alastor hadn’t started the night planning to get fucked. Once the outfit was on and he decided pants weren’t necessary, he began to consider all the ways he could fluster Lucifer. Nothing would be funnier than making the king of hell fuck a nun.

So here he was, gripping the shelves as Lucifer’s hips snapped into him.

“Oh fuck,” Luci moaned, Alastor was so tight and hot, how could someone so horrid feel so damn good? His nails dug into Alastor’s hips, pulling him back to meet every thrust.

Lucifer was enjoying himself. It felt good, Alastor not numb to pleasure, but he wanted to rile up Luci even more.

“Our Lucifer, who art in hell,” Alastor began his bastardized prayer. It worked, Luci’s hips slowing.

“Alastor.” He warned.

“Sullied be thy name; my king shall cum,” Alastor’s grin was audible. A growl came from behind him as a faint glow of fire illuminated his face, “thy sin be done,” he choked, Luci’s hips snapping into him with a sting to his ass. The fallen angel’s wings erupting and knocking the supplies off the shelves around them, no space for them to flex. Even though he knew Lucifer couldn’t hear him over the sounds of crashing bottles and broom handles, even though he could barely speak through the painfully rough fucking he was taking, he finished his prayer. 

“On earth as it is in hell,” the sentence was squeaked out in staccato, air sucked in with every stretch of his hole by his king. Alastor gripped the metal shelf side so tightly his fingers were losing blood flow, the rage behind Luci’s punishing cock making his eyes roll back. 

Lucifer gripped onto Alastor’s tail with a silent show of force, “You will stop this sacrilege.” Words forced through clenched teeth, “Or I will rent your dirty existence,” a pause to momentarily bury himself as deep as he could reach, “body and soul, asunder.”

Alastor couldn’t respond, mind slipping into a new realm entirely. He understood a threat had been made, and nodded as best he could with his head hung low between his hunched shoulders. He was making sounds as Lucifer’s nails cut into him, but he couldn’t place from where they came, pain or pleasure, only that his chest rumbled and his mouth was going dry. 

As his hips returned to their literally bruising speed, Lucifer felt his orgasm nearing. He’d never been so angry and so determined to fuck his own seed into someone else. It felt like giving a punishment, like a humiliation. He wanted Alastor to wobble out of the fucking closet, cum dripping out much later from the previously unreached place Lucifer marked.

Alastor’s body was hit up against the shelves as his knees gave out, Lucifer’s strength too much for him to withstand. As Lucifer came his wings pulled back before coming down and in. Alastor felt a heat deep in him, pooling in his guts. On his arms and forehead the soft touch of feathers caressed sweat slick skin.

They both stayed connected, only their chests moving as they heaved in and out. Lucifer waited for himself to go soft before he pulled out, forehead resting on Alastor’s back, both men on their knees.

Sometime after Luci’s wings folded back in and disappeared, Alastor regained enough sense to speak.

“Amen.”

Lucifer pulled him to the floor by his neck, fist cocked back when the door opened.

“Oh sir, not again*. Your jokes are really not funny.” Niffty scurried over Lucifer’s back to retrieve a roll of paper towels before flitting out the room. Before closing the door she huffed, “Please stop telling them. No one ever laughs.”

“Dad, why do you smell like a piña colada?” Charlie leaned into Lucifer, taking in the aroma. “Wait a minute…. I know that smell.” Angel brightened,’“Awww baby’s first hatefuck!!”

*Alastor’s other bad joke

ଳ⊹₊ ⋆ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings

@looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith ,

[datasoong101]

When I first started watching DS9, I listed each character and my impressions of them here. Now that I've finished the show and had time to sit with it, I'm gonna do that again.

Spoilers under the cut!

Benjamin Sisko:

A truly inspirational character with a beautiful and meaningful arc. Sisko is one of the best examples of a healthy father figure I can think of. He's funny, he's responsible, he's kind, he makes hard choices. His arc as the emissary was remarkable. He went from a reluctant star fleet officer to a transcendent being who's destiny was written before he was born. He's the best.

Jake Sisko:

You got to see him grow from a little kid to a remarkable author. His relationship with his father was beutiful and tragic. I would love to see where he is 10 years after the last season.

Kasidy:

Her character wasn't super detailed, but she seemed like a bad ass. A good partner for Sisko.

Sisko's Dad:

Just felt like including him. He's awsome.

Quark:

I love that little rat bastard freak. I love him and his freak little self to death. He's actually the fucking best you don't get it. His gay ass wanted Odo so bad. His arc was just right, changes in perspective but mostly shenanigans.

Rom:

The silliest and goofiest little guy. He's so damn sweet. Best grand nagus ever.

Nog:

I actually cried over Nog joining Statfleet. He is an incredible person. It's really tragic that he had to see the worst of the war so young. Love him too.

Leeta:

Such a badass.

General Martok:

A cool dude.

Worf:

I honestly didn't like Worf that much in TNG. That changed REAL quick. You get to see so much more of his character in DS9. He's just the best.

Jadzia Dax:

OH MY GOD DAX AGAGAGAGAG I cannot express how much I love her. She was absolutely incredible. Her and Worf were actually the sweetest ever. Her death pissed me the fuck off.

Ezri Dax:

When she came on, I tried not to like her. I failed. She is beutiful cinnamon roll too good for this world.

Keiko:

Wish you got to see more of her. She's awsome.

O' Brien kids:

:3

O'Brien:

I LOVE HIM POOR GUY!!! Him and Julian are the best grumpy sunshine ever.

Julian:

AGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAG THE TWINKIEST TWIK WHO EVER TWINKED I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM YOU DON'T GET IT YOU'LL NEVER GET IT!!! He feels so real. His arc is remarkable. From bright eyed "frontier doctor" fresh from Star Fleet Medical to the tragedy of the war and his family and being discovered as genetically modified, his friendships. All of it. He just needed to kiss a lizard.

Garak:

I LOVE THAT TRAGIC ASS HORNY ASS FUCK ASS LIZARD ASS FUCK I LOVE HIM TO DEATH HE JUST NEEDED TO KISS A TWINK.

Kira:

SHE IS SUCH A BADASS. Her character development? Incredible. She just. I don't know. I just love her. She's quite literally hanging on my wall.

Odo:

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHH I LOVE HIM. HE'S JUST SO. AHAHAHAHAHAH. His story is one of the most tragic. I love him and Kira. I cried when he went home. Also him and Quark were fucking.

Kai Winn:

I hated her and then someone changed my mind so I hate her less. Her arc was wild.

Gul Dukat:

FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM HE'S A PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT

Ziyal:

Maybe the most tragic casualty of the occupation and the war. She deserved so much better.

I LOVE DS9 SO FUCKING MUCH ACTUALLY INSANE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH LIKE YOU DON'T GET IT LOVING THEM IS NOT ENOUGH I NEED TO BITE THEM THAT SHOW WAS EQUAL PARTS ME CRYING AND ME LAUGHING I CAN'T WAIT TO REWATCH

[lilacxoz]

Just Three - Kaveh & Alhaitham

F!reader.

Double penetration, use of ‘good girl’ briefly, not really hate sex but kinda implied, spanking, creampie, oral sex.

Being sex partners with the two most annoying people was fun. Well, the sex was, not the constant arguments. First it was who used up all the hot water in the morning, and then it was who ate whos food in the fridge. But when all that pent up frustration came to the surface, it was pleasure city.

The three of you came to an agreement one heated night. Kaveh had used up all the hot water and Alhaitham was annoyed at the argument because he was stressed and working on some papers in his room. "We just need to de stress," Kaveh had suggested. You and Alhaitham eventually agreed and came to the 'Just Three Agreement', in which the three of you have sex and destress as long as it's exclusive, for health reasons.

So now here you were, walking into the house as Kaveh and Alhaitham argue at each other in the kitchen. You decide to leave it for now because all you wanted to do was get out of your day clothes.

"You're a sly bastard with no respect for others, I cannot believe you did that to me!" Kaveh yells, making you groan. If you didn't intervene then it would get ugly, so you step out in just your tee shirt and socks, not caring since they've both seen you naked multiple times.

"What is the problem, please tell me so you both can stop arguing and I can take a nap!" You burst out before letting out a stressed breath and hopping up on the counter. Two pair of angry eyes meet yours, surprised a bit to see Alhaitham look so upset.

"This filthy bastard pushed me into a hole in the desert, all because of a few books!" Kaveh heaved, pointing a finger at the ash-haired male next to him.

"Maybe that should teach you not to mess up fucking MONTHS OF NOTES!" Alhaitham yells, his voice loud and deep that it shocks you and Kaveh a little.

"Okay, why don't we start with you 'Haitham, tell me what happened in your perspective."

"Sure," he blew out an angry breath, "I was at the library finishing up my notes for the past six months. But as I'm gluing in the final pieces to the book, dear old Kaveh comes up to me, startles me and makes me knock over all the glue on every single page. Months, FUCKING MONTHS of notes, gone." He runs a hand through his hair as he leans his hip against the counter. You look over to Kaveh for his side, to which he clears his throat to tell his side.

"Look, I didn't mean to startle him, all I wanted to know is if he wanted to split traveling costs with me because I know he's low on Mora. But I felt bad, I really did! I just don't know or  understand why he had to go and push me down a literal sand mountain on," he used air quotes, "accident. I started bleeding and had to get a stitch!"

You take in each story, it was obvious both were in the wrong but for all the wrong reasons. Kaveh just wanted to ask a question but knowing him, he probably made some snarky comment after scaring 'Haitham. And with Alhaitham, he definitely could've handled it better but you had to put yourself in his position to rationalize with his actions

"You're both in the wrong okay? Yes it's terrible Kaveh made you lose months of notes and I can help with that, but that doesn't give you the right to break his face open. Second, Kaveh you and I both know you left out parts in that story, stop provoking people." Kaveh made a face from being called out, of course he knew he wouldn't get away with it but he tried.

"Oh sweet y/n, please come help me destress," Kaveh whines, wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowing his head in your neck. Your eyes widened at the suddenness.

"Oh gods no," Alhaitham protested, taking you from Kaveh's grasp and holding your back to his chest. Kaveh'a eyes widened as he watched his rival place kisses along your neck, his hands groping your breasts. You moaned at the action and embarrassment, body heating up like molten rock.

"Two can play at that," Kaveh challenged, taking your thighs in his hands as your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding up your bottom as Alhaitham holds your top. Kaveh's soft lips attacked yours in a sweet explosion. His kisses were always so soft and romantic, while Alhaitham's were more rough and dominant.

You moaned from Kaveh's kisses and his rival sucking on your neck. Your core was completely exposed to Kaveh, his hips rolling against your own. You moved a hand to the back of Alhaitham's neck and one behind Kaveh's, letting his tongue explore your mouth.

It eventually became to much overestimation, Kaveh letting you back down and Alhaitham pulling away to admire the deep marks on your neck and shoulder. "Let's continue in my room," you say, dragging both men to your room with wobbly knees. As soon as the door closed, they were on you like animals.

Alhaitham held you from behind, moving your head so he could trap you in one of his rough and passionate kisses. Meanwhile, Kaveh was shrugging out of his cape and belt before he kneeled in front of you. "You're gonna be good and let the shitty architect eat you out? Yeah you will," Alhaitham cooed, slipping his hands up your shirt and thumbing your pebbled nipples. You let out a gasp as the feeling of your sensitive nipples being toyed with and Kaveh's tongue working on your clit.

"Ah~!" You moan out, body responding to both stimulations. Kaveh introduced two fingers into your dripping cunt, his tongue working wonders on your clit. It was all so much, your first orgasm of the night being a beautifully blended one of all three stimulations. Alhaitham went right back to kissing you as Kaveh cleaned you up and settled onto the side of your bed. Alhaitham pulled away and bent you over Kaveh.

"You're gonna suck his dick while I get you ready to take us both, you can do that can't you?" You nod, your eyes already filling up with tears from all the stimulation.

"Good girl~" Kaveh purs, leaning back a bit as he unzips his pants, discarding them completely along with your top. Alhaitham does the same, taking off his top while his fingers tease your pussy. Now you're left with your knees on the bed, bent over so your face to face with Kaveh's cock. Your eyes widen as you slip it in your mouth at the same time Alhaitham slips his cock inside you. One thing both  men could agree on was how much you turned them on, and even that alone was enough to have them share you.

You squealed as Alhaitham slapped your ass with such force that it left your ass red. He chuckled, starting an easy pace while you started to suck on Kaveh's pink tip. Kaveh let out a soft moan, tangling his hand in your hair, helping you take all of him. It was hard to focus on sucking Kaveh off when Alhaitham was thrusting into you so good, but every time you stopped for a second the man behind you would give your ass a nice slap.

"That's it, take it all in," Kaveh groaned, watching you choke on his cock. With Alhaitham's rough thrusts, you didn't even need to bob your head, Kaveh holding you down as he enjoyed watching you choke on him. When he finally let you breathe, mascara stains ran from your eyes to your chin, making him even more turned on then before.

"I think she's ready for us both, don't ya think?" Kaveh asks Alhaitham, making him pull out of you. The emptiness left you whining, the scribe nodding as he helps you into position. You were straddling Kaveh, hands planted on his chest as his hands held your ass. You gasped at just both of their tips inside. Sure, you've taken both of them but never in the same hole. You trusted them, letting them help ease themselves inside of you.

"You have to relax baby," Alhaitham cooes, caressing your hair out of your face, a few strands sticking to your sweaty face. You nodded, trying to be as relaxed as possible. It helped with the soothing caresses of Kaveh's hands on your thighs and Alhaitham's arms wrapping around your waist with his face buried in your neck. The fit was tight and hurt, but it felt good. They took it slow and easy with you, having the same slow pace just to get you used to it. Eventually, that pain turned into a pleasurable itch that hit you deep inside; foreign noises escaping your throat from the pleasure.

Your voice bounced off the walls, the men picking up the pace as their own orgasms were on the horizon. The need to fill you full with both of their cum was unbearable, your stomach fluttering as your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your stamina was depleting fast but you didn't care, you had never felt so full in your life, both of them hitting so many spots you didn't know you needed hit.

"F-Fuck! Oh, I'm c-cumming so hard~!" You scream/moan out, eyes screwing shut as your mouth is left agape. The burst of pleasure hits you like a tsunami and tornado mixed together, hands shaking as the two men fucking you pick up speed. It wasn't long before Kaveh came first, shooting load after load into you before it's mixed with Alhaitham's.

They both pulled out as you collapsed onto the sheets next to the architect, the scribe following soon after. Alhaitham lifted your leg, a mirror perfectly placed in front of the three of you and the men watch the cum leak from you. Their cocks spring back into action from the sight alone.

"Think you can go again princess?" Kaveh asks, to which you give a small nod. It wouldn't be the first time both of them fucked you until you couldn't even breath or keep your eyes open.

[extraaa-30]

Why soft dom Aziraphale + bratty sub Crowley appeals to me

(be serious though they're both switches)*

Soft Dom Aziraphale

1. heaven

An angel is supposed to be the pure one, undefiled, meek, following orders without question, the girl to be got, the prize to be sought after, the white to be soiled. Subvert it! Aziraphale shouldn't be confined to an eternity of zero agency, naivety, and bland pastels. The idea of Aziraphale getting to really own his "bastard" side, getting to be "selfish," be demanding, be in control--delightful.

And, Aziraphale has guilt complexes on his guilt complexes. Because, unlike most of humanity, he is intimately aware of the righteous, pitiless violence that heaven is capable of. And he's made an art of subtly and ceaselessly defying it by being gentle, by demonstrating enormous restraint. He is a warrior who gave away his holy sword. He swerves severely in the direction of being reserved, harmless, feels clear guilt about any strong desires or direct asks. He has an obvious anxiety about excess (the mental acrobatics he does to justify his book collection, for example, are an entire circus). Free him from the fear of going too far!

2. the effeminate gay man

Thee Southern Pansy, "gay as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide," with the fancy clothes and prim and proper aesthetic, ever the damsel in distress, flamboyant and limp-wristed, the one who is called slurs by children, the one who is sunshine and sweetness, "the nice one."

Except we know he is secretly a bastard! We know this bitch has preferences! Let him own that! The fact that he is effeminate should not automatically make him more submissive I literally hate that. On the inside Aziraphale is cunty and commanding and he should get to be!

3. with Crowley

Let him say what he craves directly so help me god! No double-speak, no games, no lustfully looking but then looking away immediately. Let him consume. Let him indulge in the gluttony he endlessly flirts with yet denies himself out of guilt and fear. The idea of Aziraphale as a gentle dom just seems so healing, like a puzzle piece that finally gets to click into place without shame.

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

Bratty Sub Crowley

1. hell

A demon is supposed to be the impure one, the defiler, the temptress, the seducer, the villain who takes, the black that soils. Subvert it! Crowley shouldn't be confined to the tropes of his demonic nature. He does not just take, just ruin. He is not inherently the one with experience while Aziraphale is the naive, pure little virgin. The idea of him being submissive to an angel (well...to this angel) is a delicious way to challenge that narrative.

And oh my god my girl has trust issues. As a demon his mentality is severely no allies, watch your back, the one who was cast out, rejected for a first offense, shaky ground, always in danger. He's not supposed to trust others, and he has legit biblically valid reasons to be wary and paranoid. Free him from the fear of trusting someone else to take control!

2. Mr. Cool

Mr. Bond, suave, smooth, stoic, sharp angles, stylish and slick, so very dangerous and criminal, the one with the car, the rebel, the snake. Compared with Aziraphale, he's supposed to be Mr. Hardass, "not nice."

Except we know he is secretly a disaster twink, 110% a soft sad little loser under that facade (and not buried that deep either)! He is a romantic who, in spite of hell, wants to give his angel chocolates! Let him own that!

3. with Aziraphale

Let him be unequivocally, unambiguously wanted oh my god! No guessing games! No trying to decipher what the fuck Aziraphale is really saying to him! Free him from the fear of always being "too fast" or "too late." All this bitch wants is for Aziraphale to be pleased by him, by Anthony J-acts-of-service Crowley! The idea of finally allowing him that...another puzzle piece. So satisfying and healing and safe.

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

*They're switches your honor

1. "our side"

Not heaven, not hell. Not angels or demons. Not all black or all white. If you think they don't switch, you're wrong.

2. weight & gender

Aziraphale is bigger and keeps his hair short and has a steadiness to him and all those things are perceived as more masculine by some and therefore stronger and more dominant. Fuck that! His size also is too often viewed as something unattractive, which--extremely fuck that. My boy is a treat and a catch. He should get to feel pretty and soft in a totally uncomplicated way as often as he goddamn wants.

Crowley is skinny, often has longer hair, has an absolute treasure hoard of gender, and there's a flightiness to him that's perceived as more feminine by some and therefore weaker and more submissive. Again I say fuck that! His slimness likewise is too often viewed as more desirable, more malleable and able to be cowed; to which I say: die! He is no dainty flower. He actually can often be commanding and capable. Take him seriously.

Furthermore: Aside from the obvious fact that weight, gender, and d/s all have jack shit to do with each other, subverting these tropes remains as important as subverting the other ones. Aziraphale should get to feel delicate and wanted just as much as Crowley. And Crowley should get to feel powerful and in control just as much as Aziraphale. To deny either of them those experiences...bad! Shut up!

3. Crowley & Aziraphale

Their dynamic is already basically gentle dom Aziraphale & bratty sub Crowley. Like literally inches below the surface lmao it's not that hard to spot (see: Az pouts about paint on his jacket, Crowley instantly rushes to fix it but in a cunty way; Crowley pins Az to a wall and Az isn't even slightly intimidated or out of control).

The problem is, they're not talking (see: Az can't ask directly; Crowley has to act tough). Which is why I personally feel that a more honest d/s dynamic, with all that unspoken ritual out in the open, would be an enormous relief for them.

That said, it's not fair to confine them to that familiar dynamic! Crowley isn't a sad wet rat all the time-- let him plan things and have them work out for once. Let him be (on purpose lol) successfully seductive! Likewise Aziraphale deserves to let his fucking hair down. Let my girl not have to do everything in this goddamn house! He deserves to not have to be the one in control all the time. He has trust issues just as deep as Crowley's, and equally deserves to feel safe and wanted.

Also Aziraphale is too much of a hedonist to not want to try everything. If you think he's sticking with one dynamic you are a fool. A clown. As my French-speaking 6,000 year old middle aged babygirl would say: an imbécile.

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

I wrote this for me, but if you read this far I hope you enjoyed it lol peace & love on planet earth

[rednexxsaysthing]

So, I watched a 3hr playthrough of Mouthwashing

Here's my thoughts!

(Also- HUGE thanks to @chillenby , @oll13v3r , @max-1mum !!)

Spoiler warnings and the following trigger warnings: Rape, suicide, severe injuries, lots of death, pills, ship crash, gun, and so much more

♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘGeneral Opinion✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

This game is very well written and gave me such big Sally Face vibes. I watched Slimccl's VOD of him playing it and so it definitely helped me not freak the fuck out. I was SO SAD when Daisuke died cuz he never even got the chance to figure himself out :(

I related to Anya and Daisuke heavily, and lowkey Swansea joined my gigantic collection of fictional father figures. I really liked the art and the entire idea of something so simple as mouthwash becoming such a batshit wild scenario. Anywhizzle, onwards!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Anya˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

God I felt so bad for her. I also really, really related to her. I had my own issues with sexual assault and then tried to "commit die" with pills afterwards (I'm much healthier and happier now). She made me feel terrible for her and she deserved so, so much better. Unfortunately, that's all I've really got for her.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥCurly. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

I felt bad for him, really liked him, and also fucking hated him all at the same time. I felt bad for him for obvious reasons, but especially like, imagine the amount of pain he must've been in without even being able to convey it. At that point I'd either start biting people or beg them to kill me somehow. I really liked him because, I mean, c'mon. Before the whole Jexual Jassaulter thing he was pretty neat. I hated him because as a victim of SA I hated seeing Jimmy not get treated like shit after what he did to Anya. The least he could've done was protect her.

ೋღ 🌺Daisuke✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

God this poor kid. The one scene where he was drinking the mouthwash on the floor and just in despair CRUSHED ME. It was so unfair what happened to him :( I wanted to give him and Anya hugs so fucking badly. I hate Jimmy for manipulating him, especially since Daisuke never mentions his dad which hints at him having daddy issues of some kind, and seeking validation from men (at least as someone with daddy issues, I do). God, it was all just so sad.

Jimmy.

FUCK THIS GUY I HATE HIM SO MUCH OH MY FUCKING GOD IM SO GLAD THAT HE DIED IN THE END BECAUSE IF HE HADN'T I WOULD'VE FUCKING KILLED HIM MYSELF HE MADE ME EXPERIENCE RAGE BEYOND ANY COMPREHENSION I HATE THIS BASTARD OH MY GOD HE DESERVES ANY SHITTY THING HE EVER WENT THROUGH, IN FACT I HOPE IN THE AFTERLIFE HE GOES TO HELL AND HAS TO RELIVE EVERY TRAUMATIC EVENT HE EVER CAUSED SOMEONE BUT AS HIMSELF.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.Swansea☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Silly old man <3 Google says he's the villain of the story?? Huh?? How?? I mean, I get he killed Daisuke, but it was with good intentions. He was a little hard on him too, but that's just a classic mentor/mentee relationship. So, yeah. I don't understand how Jizzy isn't the villain. How is the old man who at worst killed someone to put them out of pain (and didn't feel good about it either, he acts different for the rest of the game) the villain, and not the literal rapist?? Idk man

Thanks for coming to my TED talk <3

[jaylleoo14]

How I like to draw the twst characters because nobody asked

♡ i like drawing Jade two ways: Pretty boy twink or a "your daughter calls me daddy too"

♡ For Azul its either an unhinged crazy ass who might secretly be a boy loser or a fucking smartass scum who isnt pathetic

♡ Floyd is.... well, Floyd. He's silly! I love him unconditionally <3 (no i dont thats a lie- ACK HELP HES CHOKING ME-) Joking, I LOVE drawing him having threatening and scary faces. (that goes for Jade as well)

♡ Idia is either a whimpering begging mess or hes a fucking cocky menace whos actually threatening

♡ Leona is soft shy lion or a badass (yasss slay queen, we stan you‼️) and sassy at the same time (Have you seen the way he stans with his hand on his hip?)

♡ Vil is just strait up serving cunt, no words needed (she is always SERVING from the university of servington with a degree in serving cunt) I always draw him winning because she always is (we stay winning💯)

♡ Rook is an unhinged stalker with a crazy obsession or he's just a silly little lad whos always supportive of others (I like drawing him threatening too)

♡ Epel is my pretty boy who I love to draw because he's so pretty. I like to draw him very wild though and rambunctious

♡ Rollo is literally the same as Idias except he tries to hold his pride feeling really embarrassed

♡ Riddle has a strong presence and personality which i like to convey, being ruthless yet being incredibly soft. I like drawing him cute and pretty sometimes too :3

♡ TREY HAS NICE MF ARMS YOU KNOW DAMN WELL IM DRAWING HIM SCRUMDELIOUCIOUS

♡ Cater makes me sad, so I indulge myself in it. I like drawing him around deep and depressing themes, sometimes dark as well.

♡ Ruggie is either street punk cool and swaggy or damn attractive with an unhinged and sneaky overlay

♡ Jack is so cute to me, I like drawing him as the tsundere he is with a playful side to him with the overprotective bodyguard vibes

♡ Ace... I HATE THAT STUPID MF!!! God he's so annoying we might as well date already >:( He's super playful and flirty and i like drawing him sly and sometimes awkwardly flustered

♡ Deuce is my baby boy crush >\\\\< Hes so precious literally he's my soft boy. I love him sm omg

♡ Malleus is so awkward and somewhat stoic, yet thats what makes him cute! He's like a himbo to me hahahaha hes so silly to me sometimes but then im like, oh wait, hes hot. And then i do a 360 and all of a sudden he's this hot smirking bastard

♡ Lilia is so drippy he's my little doll, I want to style him in so many different ways (●ˇ∀ˇ●) and he's so badass yet girlypop at the same time, hello?? No one can pull it off like Lilia does, its the bisexual in him 🤞

♡ Silver is so sweet and pretty, though I always draw him sleeping because its so easy just drawing someone sleeping in low quality T0T (sorry Silver stans)

♡ Sebek is a silly little guy who I want to kick for the fun of it sometimes ^-^ But I like drawing him getting teased a lot or often getting picked on because I find it funny

♡ Jamil being a sassy overworked mom who always too tired to show any type of expression other than showing anger, exasperation, or an anxious stressed out look. Other than that, its a tired deadpan face for me as he's holding a mug saying "kys." Jamil is like a little hater to me and I stan that <3

♡ Kalim being oblivious and a bit slow, but other than that hes the happy radiating sunshine we all know as. I like giving him moments where hes so genuine and kind where you're just completely soft around him and an arrow shoots through your heart

♡ Ortho is that friendly neighbor! I like him drawing him being supportive of others and always being Idia's right hand man who can also be sneaky and sly

This doesnt usually apply to their yandere self though ^^

[bruciemilf]

Watching the last of us currently and I believe the " Grumpy bastard who's slowly been robbed of hope meets snarky kid who's the incarnation of sunshine" trope fits Clark and Kon so well

Jon too! I mean, just this motherfucker

Meeting a kid who's like him? Immune?

"...I knew Lex was crazy but this," he gestures to the whole of Kon, to the everything around him, " This? Is the worst crime he ever did. "

Kon bites both his cheeks, too slim and too pale and too worn out for a fourteen year old. There's pieces of Clark that scar him. His anger, for one. Only thing keeping them warm anymore, " Are you talking about me or you?"

" I'm not you,"

" That's your issue!"

" Claaaaark?"

" Not now Jonny,"

" Yeah Jon, just let him finish yelling at me about how much of a mistake I am!"

" Mistakes are something unintentional, Conner; You? are a bad decision," and he feels guilty as soon as he says it. He hates it; Hates it that he's meaner, sharper. That Kansas boy with sunshine in his hair wouldn't have talked to anyone like that.

But that Kansas boy died when the world did.

" Clark! It's really important!"

Clark bites his tongue. He already yelled at a goddam teenager, he won't yell at the toddler, too. " What -- What, buddy?"

Jon's tiny finger points to a little town, " There's light in there!" Kon doesn't wait for him, and it's not like Clark expected anything different.

They haven't grown closer since Metropolis, since their feet were scraped by walking endlessly, since they've been saving eachother's lives more often than they should've.

Clark sighs as he watches him go, Jon In his arms and a loaded gun over his shoulder, " No, Jonny, don't touch that. It's bad," He says, gently grabbing the kid when that tiny little hand tries to grab the barrel. He knows Jon'll have to use one soon.

Clark just hopes he won't be around to see it.

Let them meet Jason and Bruce when Kon and Jason literally try to maul eachother,

" Kon!" There's a ball of limbs and reds and dark hair tangled together, feral and angry, mangled like two angry snakes clutching at eachother, " is he bit?!"

" I don't care!"

Crack.

Kon isn't immune to broken noses.

The building they're in is big, like everything else in the city, but slightly more titanic, more towering. Darker and brighter all of the same. The echoing of, " Jason," frames that better, traveling through the hardwood floor and walls.

"... Oh, fuck, we're in Gotham. "

" Whats Gotham?"

Jason, who's beside Bruce, now, -- The Bruce Wayne, thought hardly anyone could tell under those bruises and scars and dark smudges dripping down his diamond jawline, -- snarls,

" How the fuck do you not know what Gotham is, dipshit? What, you've been born yesterday?"

Bruce's hands squeeze at his shoulders, slightly rounder and fuller in frame than Kon's. That was expected. Everyone bleeds in the apocalypse, but no one bleeds the same, " Jason. Language."

" Last year, actually,"

"...Holy fuck," Jason gasps when Jon wiggles around, an action Bruce mimicsm, "Holy shit. That's a baby. I haven't seen a baby in years. Bruce, do you,--"

Bruce is already advancing, taking steps, not brave but not cowardly. He hands Kon a handkerchief for his bleeding nose, but there's no breaks in his and Jon's eye contact.

A stare of wonder. Fright, but wonderful. "... Hi, honey. My name is Bruce. What's your name?"

Jon's been hiding his face in Clark's neck until Bruce talked, just as scared of other human beings as Clark was, but shyness dies quickly with him. " Hi! "

" His name's Jon," Clark says, " he'll be six next week." God. He'll be six. He doesn't know. He has to pretend to know or he'll go crazy. Bruce nods. His hand is held out, " May I?"

He asks Jon if he wants to, and of course he says yes. Who doesn't want to be loved at world's funeral? Jon and Bruce cuddle in the middle of nowhere, and they're left to stare.

" Jason, show Kon the bathroom, please. And you're welcome to a shower if you'd like. But no guns," his tone is final, and Clark doesn't mind munch. He doesn't rely on them for survival.

Kon does find it weird, " Where do you keep yours, then?"

"I don't like guns."

"Then how'd you kill sickos till now?"

" We don't kill them."

" Speak for yourself," Jason mutters, pinching Jon's cheek on his way upstairs, " How slow are you, freak?"

" Not slower than you, creep!"

Clark watches. It's nice. To see him be a kid.

He turns to Bruce, unsure, skeptical, all he ever is these days, " You seriously don't kill them? Not any of them?"

" There's enough death around, Mr. Kent. I refuse to contribute. Besides. Aren't we all dead already?" Clark hums. He doesn't know how to answer that. Watching Bruce kiss Jon's cheeks is easier.

It's human.

[dootznbootz]

Don't get me wrong, I hate the telegony with every FIBER of my being. HOWEVER!! I feel like there's so much yummy angst potential with Odypen.

Like?? Imagine Penelope holding Odysseus' dead body. And it reminds her so much of when he'd fall asleep in her arms, in their bed holding an infant Telemachus. Because little baby Telemachus wouldn't stop crying so he had to be held in his papa's arms :3

But he's still crying to this day,, crying in the background, sobbing, hugging his mother from behind as she's holding her dead husband. Her husband that she waited 20 YEARS for. Her husband that's literally been threw hell and BACK, yet who never gave up because he wanted to see HER and their SON!!

He could've stayed with Calypso, he could've stayed with Kirke, he could've. But he DIDN'T. And I know damn well the moment he came back, and she saw him, she SAW on his face he's been threw shit. And imagine that, imagine the pain of someone you love more than the Sun experiencing that. Imagine that, and they did all of that, to see you.

People undermine that Penelope loves Odysseus just as much as Odysseus loves Penelope. It's been 20 years. She had every right to assume he's gone or get remarried. But she didn't. She had faith the entire time.

And she waited so long, and he went threw so much, just for him to get killed by some borderline (Not fully) rapeling. That's so heart-wrenching.

And for Telemachus, who never even KNEW his father. To suddenly see him again, to see how happy his mother is, how happy he is. Just for some bastard he has to call his half-brother to kill him. Telemachus knew so little of his father, only the stories Penelope told him. And now, sadly, it'll stay that way.

Telemachus and Penelope would fucking despise Telegonus. They've been waiting so long for this man, and this man has waited and had to go threw so much. All three of them did not go threw all that just for Telegonus to kill him. I don't care if it was an 'accident'. It doesn't matter if the killer didn't want to do it, it matter's that the victim's family lost someone they FUCKING LOVED.

Penelope would NEVER marry Telegonus, and Telemachus would never marry Kirke.

But Odysseus death gives us some JUICY angst. I hate it. But good god it scratches that angst-loving part of my brain SO GOOD. 😼

Feel free not to answer since this is a rather long ask/ramble :'D And ye, take care Mad! <3

Oh, also, just so it's not ALL just angst, a few Penelope and Baby Telemachus headcanons/shenanigans? They mean the world to both Odysseus AND me 🥹

So, this is a really fun ask...But I don't think you're going to get the answer you'd like from me :')

As many folks know, I am a big lover of fluff and very soft stuff. I have angst but even then I would consider it more hurt/comfort in a way as I do plan for the "comfort" to be what's most important :) I also just think of "angst" as just the "something that makes sense storywise".

The Tele-GONE-y to me, is just blatent whump. Not really my cup of tea.

Also the Tele-GONE-y has the whole bullshit about Odysseus doing fuck all in random war, getting married and having children with a random af woman, before coming back to get killed. So that's just...ew. All of it is ew.

And I don't even like the idea of Telegonus existing in any form. At most, Telegonus would only exist in my mind as Polites' son. (not based on Epic at all. This Polites is my own special guy. He's my lil weird goober of my own design reeeeee) My dear friend thehelplessmortals is the only person who I feel explores it in a way that makes sense to me and seems canon.

As you put it into words:

"And she waited so long, and he went through so much, just for him to get killed by some borderline (Not fully) rapeling. That's so heart-wrenching."

And it's just TOO heartwrenching for me :') I can't do it. It's honestly such a horrifying scenario that I got nauseous the first time I heard about it. (that's not even getting into the gross out of character marriage circle and Odysseus fucking around away from his family)

For me, I cannot see Circe (my Circe definitely) as a mother regardless. She wasn't made for motherhood. Also Odysseus and her only have sex once in my writing in exchange for his men to be turned back into humans. (as it's only stated explicitly once in the Odyssey)

The Odyssey also says that Odysseus' line only has one son each. That's Telemachus. (OdyPen can have a daughter though! >:3 Girldad Odysseus is very tasty for me)

If you're just into the angst of Odysseus' death, I got a bit of that though :'D

Penelope being 75% Naiads will live a long life. And Odysseus, being her husband, gets the advantages of having a magic Water wifey and that affects him in how he will live a long life as well (Calypso also gave him ambrosia/nectar to keep him alive. as he was nearly dead when he washed up.)

BUT. He is mostly mortal. He lives way beyond what is normal for Mortals but still.

His hair now fully gray. His breathing raspy and slow. He's slow to move...

Penelope lives a bit afterward. Sleeping and taking comfort in their nest that cradles her as she sleeps. She feels him everywhere. She grieves him endlessly.

Their nest starts to wilt. Only when she goes too does it come alive again.

And for some random Penelope and Telemachus headcanons :P

Nereids have lined bioluminescence, while NAIADS have spots. Like the black spots on the beloved rainbow trout 🥹 (they don't have the black spots. they just have spots that glow in their own control lol)

Telemachus gets "spots" from both his mama (naiad scales/glowbit) and his papa (freckles) 🥹

It's what they use to communicate underwater. And it's nice because even if you're not full naiad and don't have as many scales, you can still communicate as it's about the flickers :3 (Odysseus can understand these to a degree)

Very rarely do they "just randomly glow" as you know, don't wanna give away your thoughts. But it's cute because Odysseus will occasionally have a lightshow when one of them is dreaming.

I know a lot of people have Penelope see Odysseus in Telemachus constantly, and while she does to a degree, she is actually one of the few people who really emphasizes that he's his own person. You don't have to be good at whittling, you make such beautiful pottery. You like green, not orange. You don't have to pick that color when it's not your favorite and because other people simply get excited about you being like your dad sometimes. That type of stuff.

You take care too, Dear Anon! :D

[dreamofbecoming]

part two, this one is still mostly stobin and pre-steddie. the first part does provide some context, although i imagine you could figure most of it out yourself, but i'd recommend reading it first anyway!

ao3

part 1

platonic stobin, mentions of steddie

rating: t

wc: 3k

---

The conversation dies down and Steve goes back to filling bottles to hand off to Robin, eyes on Dustin where he's still goofing off with Munson. Good, he should get to have as much fun as he can. This is what he should be doing. What they should all be doing. Steve hates that these kids have to be fucking…soldiers so much of the time. He hates that he can't do anything to shield them from it. Not that they'd let him if he could.

Maybe Robbie has a point, about regular teenage life stuff being pointless right now, but god, what the fuck? Why should it have to be? He's 19! He can't even buy a drink yet! Robin is still in high school!

Fuck it. They should get to be kids and think about stupid pointless stuff, too.

"So I know you said you didn't want to talk about your love life, which is fair, but if I keep thinking about dying I'm gonna lose my shit, so you wanna talk about mine?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, are we talking about how fucking weird shit has been between you and Nancy?"

Ah, fuck, that backfired almost immediately.

"What? No. Definitely not. Ok, it's been weird, but it's not a thing, ok?" She looks even more skeptical than before. "It's not! I mean, ok, maybe it is," she snorts at him, which. Rude. "But it's just like. Regular weirdness, ok?"

"What the fuck is regular weirdness?"

"You know, like, exes who haven't talked in a while in a high-pressure situation weirdness. The kind of weirdness anyone would be having in our shoes. Normal weirdness!" He throws his hands in the air, agitated.

Munson looks over at the sound of his raised voice, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. What is it with everyone raising their eyebrows at him today? He's being normal! Normal and regular! It's not his fault everything around them is weird and that makes his normal look weird by comparison. He's not doing anything wrong, so get off his nuts already! Geez!

Steve isn't sure how much of that very normal and regular monologue shows on his face, but it must be some because he can see Munson laughing at him as he goes back to playing keepaway with Dustin's hat. Bastard.

"Ugh! No, I don't want to talk about Nance. Like I really super don't. There's nothing there, it's done, it's over, there's nothing to say."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to talk about that debacle in the bus either. Six kids, Steve? Really?" Oh Jesus. He was really hoping no one had heard that.

"Bobbie, please, why are you torturing me?" He rarely deploys the Sad Eyes on Robin, mostly because they don't work especially well on her, which is insane, because they work like an atom bomb on literally everyone else. He may have left King Steve behind him, but he has plenty of skills left over from those days, not to mention he looks as good as he always has. He knows what he's working with, ok?

Anyways, this is a moment to pull out the big guns, which means Sad Eyes are a go.

As usual, they aren't as effective on Robbie as they are on other people, but she does know him well enough to realize that if he's pulling them out, it's out of desperation, so she takes pity on him anyway. Whatever. He'll take the win.

She sighs, and rolls her eyes indulgently, but she's smiling just a little. He can tell. God, he loves her. He'd burn the world down for her, is maybe going to have to. He doesn't know what he'd do without her.

"Alright, bubba, I'll bite. You want to talk about your love life, but you don't want to talk about Nancy. Whatcha got for me?"

And, oh. Shit. This is the part where he's going to have to say it out loud. He hadn't planned this far, mostly was just anxious to get the swirling feeling in his chest out into Robbie's hands because he knows she can keep it safe, mostly just trying to wipe that awful, scared, defeated look off her face, but now he has to actually do the thing. He has to say it out loud, on purpose, the way he hasn't since that day in her bedroom when his whole world shifted a little to the left, and she was the only thing holding him steady.

Fuck. Ok. He can do this. It's just Rob. No one else is close enough to hear them, and Robin will always keep him safe. She'll never let him be alone.

"So, uh. You know the, uh, the thing? That we talked about that one time?"

"Yeah, we talk every day, I'm gonna need a bit more than that, bubs."

"The, uh. The thing we decided we didn't have to talk about right away? Because it wasn't important? Or, no, it was important, but it wasn't, um. What did you say? Relevant. It wasn't relevant to my everyday life?"

"Relevant to your…oh! Oh shit! The thing! The thing we talked about! That thing!" Her eyes are wide and so so blue and her hands are flailing a little, like she wants to pat him down for injury even though that's not remotely helpful. He carefully takes the bottle out of her hand and stuffs the rag into it himself, setting it on the ground where she can't dump gasoline on herself. She smiles a little sheepishly.

"So what about the, uh, the thing?" She lowers her voice like she's in a goddamn spy movie, leaning close and waggling her eyebrows. She's so ridiculous. He loves her so much.

He gives her a pointed look. She shakes her head in response, looking confused. Jesus fuck, she's gonna make him say it.

He tries one more time, bobbing his head at her to try and make his facial expression more forceful. He doesn't miss his old crowd, really, he doesn't. He does, however, occasionally miss being around people who were constantly alert for even the smallest social shifts, who he could have a whole conversation with using nothing but subtle changes to the shape of his mouth or the width of his eyes. He loves Robin and Dustin more than life, would kill or die for them, has proven it several times over, but Christ on a cracker they wouldn't know a social cue if it whacked them in the head with a hammer.

She's still furrowing her brow at him, so he sighs, and gives in. "I think it's maybe become…relevant. I promised to tell you right away, remember?"

Her eyes go even wider than before, and she thwaps him in the chest with the back of her hand. Hard. Ow.

"Dingus!" She's whisper-shouting, but he still doesn't think anyone is close enough to hear. "What the hell!"

"Ow, Robbie, Jesus, watch the open wounds!"

She flutters her hands around his middle, like she can fix his bandages through his jacket. She does look apologetic, so that's something.

"Sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry! Are you ok? Sorry. Just, what the hell! What? Who? When?!"

He smirks at her. "What, no why or how?"

"I'm going to set you on fire with one of these cocktails if you don't start talking, Dingus, I swear to god!"

He's laughing, she's so much fun to rile up. God, he hopes he doesn't have to miss this. He hopes he gets to keep this much, at least, when they're done. He'll probably go crazy otherwise.

"Ok, ok, I won't tease, I'm sorry. So I guess, to answer your questions, uh…I found a boy to crush on, who the hell do you think, and I promised to tell you right away, didn't I?" He counts them down on his fingers while he answers them, because if he can't act like a little shit to her then honestly, what is even the point?

"Right away…holy shit. Holy shit! Steve!" She looks frantically out at the field, where Munson has now knocked Henderson over and is sitting on him, wearing his hat and crowing victory, while Dustin flails wildly on the ground. Thank fuck neither of them are looking this way, because holy hell she isn't subtle.

"Robbie, don't look, what the hell! Do you want him to know we're talking about him?"

"Oh, so we are talking about him? Eddie "The Freak" Munson?"

He cringes a little at the reminder of his earlier dismissal. "Alright, ok, so I maybe didn't give him much of a chance at first, but the Upside Down changes things, you know that! It did for us, right?"

She looks thoughtful. "I guess, yeah. So go on, loverboy, what do you like about him?" She's grinning and waggling her eyebrows again. Ugh, this may have been a mistake. She does owe him for the Tammy Thompson thing. Still, there's no one alive he'd rather talk about this with, and he has to talk to someone, or he's going to explode, and they have a…wizard…demon…thing…guy to kill. Whatever. They have killing to do, so he needs to get this off his chest so it's not clogging up his brain.

"He has…really nice eyes. And really nice hands." Robin lets out a soft "Oh, ew," before he glares at her and she motions for him to go on. "He's funny, and weird but in like, a charming way? Kind of like you, but different. The way Dustin is weird and charming like you, but different, you know?"

"You have a thing for nerds, Dingus."

"Ugh, maybe, yeah." His mind drifts back to Eddi- Munson. Gotta keep calling him Munson, at least until they get out of this. Can't afford to be distracted. "He's scared out of his mind, but he's coming along anyway, which is the kind of brave and stupid this whole group kind of runs on. He thinks he's a coward but he's not. Going back to school instead of dropping out is brave. Trusting us is brave. Acting like he does even when everyone hates him for it is brave. I wish I had been brave enough to do that, you know? Maybe I would have dropped the King shit earlier. And he's good with the kids, which you know I'm weak for. I don't know, Robs, I just…I want him to like me, you know? I want him to be impressed by me. Is that stupid?"

When he looks up, Robin's eyes are wide and shiny. She looks surprised, and a little scared. That's not good, probably, but he can't take back anything he said. He meant all of it.

"It's not stupid, bubba, it's not stupid at all. I guess I was thinking…I don't know. That it was like an adrenaline thing? Like a 'you're hot, we're in danger, I'd rather think about making out with you than dying' kind of thing? Like what Nancy was clearly doing with you earlier, you know?"

"Ugh, Robbie, I so don't want to talk about Nancy right now, please," he groans.

"Yeah yeah, I know, whatever. I just mean, it doesn't really sound like that's what's going on with you, for Eddie, right now. It kinda sounds like you, you know, like like him."

"Like like him? What are we, 12?"

"You know what I mean, Dingus, it just sounds like there are actual feelings here, not just sexy thoughts."

He shifts a little on his stool, feeling kind of exposed, but it's ok. It's just Robin. "I mean, yeah, I guess I kinda do? Have feelings. Or maybe I will? I'm kind of trying to hold them off, I guess, until we get out of here, you know? I barely know the guy, honestly, but also every time this happens I end up bonded for life to someone new, so why not him this time? I mean, the first time with the demogorgon even got me and Nancy back together, and we were like, donezo, for real, after that thing Tommy did to The Hawk. This shit is better than superglue, you know?"

Robin barks out a laugh. She squares her shoulders and puts on her best announcer voice. "Do you have trouble making friends? Looking to join a new crowd, but can't find a way in? Try Hell Beasts! Our near-death experience package will create lasting trauma that will bind you together forever! There's no escape now!"

The two of them collapse into giggles, drawing the eyes of several their friends scattered around the field.

When she composes herself, Robin gives him a soft smile. It's one of his favorites. Almost no one ever sees it but him, and not very often. "Well, I guess we had better all make it out of this in one piece, then, huh? So we can do all our sad gay pining together."

"I dunno, I think maybe I have a shot," he says thoughtfully, eyeing Edd- no, stop it, Munson, where he's flopped on the grass next to Dustin, chatting happily.

Robin boggles at him. "What the fuck do you mean, a shot? Are you- oh god, are you just gonna tell him? Steve!"

"Wh- Not right away or anything! And not for sure! I have to figure out if he's flagging on purpose first!"

"If he's whatting on what?"

"Oh come on, you remember that one zine that talked about the, uh. The whats it. The code! The hanky code, that was it!" He snaps his fingers in victory, triumphant.

She's still looking at him like he's grown a second head though, so maybe not.

"I don't know, maybe you skipped that one? From what I could tell it was more about men anyway. I think they mentioned that ladies use, uh, caribou. The clip things, you know?"

"Caribeeners? Dingus what the hell are you talking about?"

"It's this thing, right? That like, gay people, gay men, I guess, use to like, signal each other, kind of. It's basically like, you wear a hanky in your pocket, and what color it is and what pattern is printed on it and which pocket you wear it in tells people what kind of sex you like."

Robin looks even more shocked, if that's possible. "What does that even mean, what kind of sex you like?"

Oh, right. Lesbian virgin. Fair enough. "Like, do you like to uh. Give, if you know what I mean. Or receive. Do you like blowjobs, or handjobs, or like. I dunno, weird stuff. Like spit or whatever."

She's waving her hands frantically, her face screwed up. "Ahhhh lalalala that's enough! That's plenty of information, thank you!" He holds up his hands in surrender. She asked.

"Anyway, what does all of...that...have to do with you having a shot with," she switches back to her not-at-all-subtle stage whisper, "Eddie?"

"Haven't you noticed he's had that bandana in his pocket the whole time?" She whips her head around so fast he's surprised he doesn't hear her neck crack. Jesus, Robin.

"Would you chill out? You're going to make him look over here and then I'll have to let Vecna eat me because there's no way I'll survive the humiliation if he hears us, Robin!"

She glares at him. "Don't even joke about that, Dingus. You're making it out alive or I'll kill you myself."

He knows he's smiling adoringly at her, and if Henderson is looking he's never, ever beating those "in love with Robin" allegations, but whatever. "Noted, Buckley."

"So, what, you think he might be...like us? 'Cause of the bandana?"

"I mean, maybe, yeah? I might be crazy, but I also feel like he was definitely flirting with me earlier. Like in the Upside Down, and also at the trailer, you know?"

"Now that I think about it, that "Big Boy" thing was super weird. I figured it was just Eddie being Eddie, they call him The Freak for a reason, right? But I guess that could have been called flirting."

"Right? That's what I thought! And when we were down there, he was like, all up in my space, and he gave me his vest, and he seemed annoyed when I talked to Nance, even though he was trying to push me back to her. Which was insane, I didn't tell you this part Robs, oh my god. I was fully staring at his lips, just laser focused, like I would be on a girl I want to kiss, right? And he won't stop telling me how Nancy is definitely still in love with me and I should get her back! What the hell! Who does that? So I don't know," he sighs, feeling a little lost. "Maybe he isn't into me after all. But I have to at least check, right?"

"I mean, I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that, bubba, but if it goes sideways, I'll burn his house down if you want." She wiggles a molotov cocktail at him, grinning.

"Jesus, Bobbin, alright. Let's, uh. Let's call that Plan B, yeah?"

"Roger that, captain!" She gives him a stupid little salute, and for a moment he's back at Scoops, before everything went shit-shaped, but she's still his Robin, and they're safe and alive and nothing hurts.

And then he blinks again and he's sitting on an overturned bucket in front of a stolen RV, making molotov cocktails with his soulmate, watching his baby brother and the guy he might maybe sort of have a crush on tussle in the grass, hoping against hope they all live to see morning.

He picks up another bottle.

part 3