#so it's not even unlikely that he'd get away with all of it for a long ass time

[sigmasoyboy]

Hellooo,

Can we have more infos about that "incel" couple please? 🙂‍↕️

The one where you just posted a picture on instagram for smutember ✨️

Thanks a lot 🤝

I've been thinking about these two a bit lately so you can have some of my crazy disjointed thoughts and ideas I might or might not put on paper one day… As always with them [cw: kidnapping, torture, mention of SA, self-harm and suicide, forcefemme, incel shit etc…]:

Sydney only giving Shiloh milk to drink because surely he would believe the common myth that it increases oestrogen AND the superstition/meme you see in manga that it will make your boobs bigger because of course he would… If he's dumb enough he might alternate between cow's milk and soy milk for variety. Shiloh hates it but it actually turns out to be kind of a godsend when Sydney withdraws food as a punishment; that's a lot of yummy nutrients he still gets to have.

Maybe surprisingly, but Sydney really insisting on not having sex (read: penetrative sex) with Shiloh because he wants it to be mutual and special and romantic so so bad, holding hands kissing missionary style. Also him often bringing up how ungrateful Shiloh is because at least he's not raping him (the bar is in fucking hell).

Rewarding Shiloh when he plays his girlfriend role well with comforting junk food, getting that high sugar high salt high fat shit for extra positive association. It feels nice to hug, kiss, cuddle and say corny stupid shit when it's followed by delicious greasy pizza with all the toppings you want or the comforting bite of that bacon cheeseburger with jalapeños and extra burger sauce when you were fed only rice crackers and milk for a while. Even just a fucking pop tart, a handful of cheezies or a funsize chocolate bar for smaller things hitting like a truck.

Shiloh sleeping in a dog crate Syndey got off of craigslist… It being not big enough to stretch his legs or sit up comfortably because it had to fit under Sydney's bed, which he managed because he had a crawlspace under it (a bit like those bookshelf beds I've seen floating around that look like, super hazardous) his uncle built him when he was a preteen, with a little curtain in front of it for ✨extra privacy✨. From cry corner to escape the world to girlfriend bedroom… Even if it's not like sleeping together, Sydney finding great comfort in sleeping above him (Shiloh not so much).

Sydney's attendance at college starting to suffer after he abducts Shiloh because he would rather spend time with him but still having to go avoid too much suspicion so he gags and lock Shiloh into the crate for the whole day. This leading to Shiloh starting to beg Sydney more and more not to go to college because he starts dreading being locked into that small dark space all day, maybe even developing full on claustrophobia after a few months of this shit. Naturally Sydney would delude himself (helped by Shiloh agreeing to anything not to get the crate) into believing it's heartwarming that his girlfriend wants them to spend more time together ♡ why not stay home one more day to play video games and watch anime while cuddling with his girlfriend, yay ♡

Shiloh trying to create an opportunity to escape by asking Sydney to let him sleep in his bed without restraints or the chain and getting false hopes when he agrees only to drug him with so much sleeping meds he's functionally unable to stand up even if he tried…

Sydney spending his big boy allowance to buy cute outfits for Shiloh, shoplifting at hot topic when his uncle starts asking why he needs money for clothes so soon already because women's clothes is surprisingly expensive. Using his own black eyeliner to doll him up and buying cheap flavored sticky gloss at Claire's to cover his chapped lips, all while he has gone unwashed for weeks to keep him grateful when he does allow him to shower, happily scrubbing him of all the grime.

Shiloh managing to choke Sydney and really, really trying to kill him but ultimately failing because he has lost so much muscle mass and strength from lack of exercise and shitty nutrition. Sydney getting out of his reach and instead of getting angry crying his eyes out, nearly more hysteric than Shiloh because he's tried so hard to get him to like him and yet he tried killing him again. Him leaving the basement for what feels like hours only to return with a knife and fresh scars blabbering about how maybe there is no hope and how he's going to kill both of them and Shiloh scrambling to change his mind and try to convince him not to kill him by telling him he does love him and he didn't know what went over him and begging to give them another chance, even resorting to trying to soothe him through sexual attention. Who knows how it does end up for them there, we'll see when I make up my mind（◕ω◕）

[yandere-sins]

shyly requesting a Yandere Jiyan x reader where both are in a arranged marriage and reader thinking that Jiyan does not want to be in this arrangement much like her tries her darn hardest to break off the engagement. from showing that she is very feisty and high maintenance to pointing out that they would not match personality wise. Even hinting that no offspring would ever be had since he always seems to be on the field working.

Thank you for requesting a very good boi ♥♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ The first time you mention how awful and loveless this marriage will be, something inside him dies. Jiyan feels you slipping, distancing yourself, and although he knows you two are not in an ideal position where you'd marry him out of love and affection, his beliefs are shattered. You don't know how hard he worked on arranging this marriage or how much he paid to keep the reasons and unsettling doings hidden from you. Of course, you'd need time to warm up to the idea. But saying it is him who doesn't want it is completely tearing him and his efforts apart.

♡ Panic rises as you threaten to slip from his grasp, your refusal so harsh and to the point that it's like daggers into his heart. Nevertheless, he puts on a brave face just for you. A kind smile to cover the pain, and Jiyan gulps down the hurt. He can't close his eyes from reality—not when the reality is so beautiful since it's you, standing before him. He assures you that he'll do his utmost best to be the husband you deserve, even if the circumstances are... "unfortunate". Jiyan doesn't miss the way you flinch when he agrees with you, realizing too late that this only fuels your fire. You are not exactly begging, but pointing out the incompatible things about you two doesn't really help straying him from this path. In fact, he finds your feistiness and eagerness to be quite endearing, even though the topic is very serious.

♡ No matter what, you are already his. The marriage contract is signed, and in one more ceremony, you'll have no more excuses to make. For a while, Jiyan simply dissociates as you provide him with good and bad reasoning as to why you two would never work. It's unlike him to space out, but he can't help himself. His goals are finally in reach, and despite your doubts, he isn't concerned at all about having an arranged marriage with you. Instead, he thinks of your wedding gown, eating cake, and thanking all the guests attending the wedding. You, smiling and tearing up at the altar. Him, swaying you over the dancefloor. The honeymoon. The wedding night.

♡ "There won't be any intimacy." That does tear him out of his thoughts. He questions out loud why you'd think that, making you flustered with how straightforward he is about this intimate topic. You lower your voice as you explain that his work is important and exhausting, and with the marriage completely loveless, you are not going to wait up for him every night. Jiyan grows silent as you explain, not even having considered needing to be away from you for a prolonged time. It was true that he had to attend a lot of missions and important work obligations lately, which also prolonged your engagement. But with this point, you were actually right.

♡ "No can do," he concedes, nodding. "I'll have to step back from work a little."

♡ "Why would you do that?!" you question him, exasperated about how he didn't seem to share your concerns. This isn't the man you know who works harder than anyone else, and it's crazy how he could simply state he'd just drop some of his workload for you. Even like this, pouting and stressed, Jiyan has to hold back from not kissing you right then and there. You are adorable, no matter your emotional state, and he can't wait to see all the faces you make over the day. Faces only he gets to see, as your husband.

♡ "I can't allow my wife to be lonely," is his simple answer, knowingly lying through his teeth. Of course, it's not as easy as that. As much as he wishes to spend all his time with you, Jiyan feels dutybound, and there is no throwing away all his hard work if he wants to give you the life you deserve by his side. However, everything comes at a cost, and you are his well-deserved prize after all these years of looking out for other people. And if some words will finally make you his, he's not above lying to you, even if it hurts him. Even if it hurts you once you find out, he lied to you all along. But by then, it will already be too late. By then, you'll belong wholly and entirely to Jiyan and he doesn't plan to give you a way out even then.

[pricegouge]

the erotic pin up thought but imagine nikolai tattooing his favourite pic and surprising his lover with it :3

he's already been away for two weeks when you get a text from an unknown number. you don't need the contact to discern who it is, anyway. in istanbul. things are running long. don't expect me back so soon. you're not expecting a reply when you tell him not to worry, to just keep himself safe, but you're delighted when you get one anyway.

>>You too, milaya.

he messages you at least once a day, just to check in. you've never been able to contact him like this while he's been on mission before and you don't want to ruin it by being too needy but the temptation of your phone lays heavy in your pocket all week. you'd hate to interfere but he makes it hard when he keeps up a slow, steady means of communication. you wonder about the mission, don't dare ask. it seems unlikely that he'd let himself be so distracted if it were something high stakes, though. it's possible he's been relegated to glorified taxi while bigger pieces make their moves and you can't help but sympathize when you picture him waiting around, dining in the quaint kind of cafes he'd never really seemed to find an appreciation for - at least, not on his own. he was always happy enough to take you but it had always been very clear where his interest lied, dark eyes trained on you even as he ordered. observant, filing away each little reaction he could pull from you with savory dishes and select deserts. you flatter yourself, imagining his patience breaking, just a little more each day, just enough to text you, earlier and earlier each day until two weeks have come and gone and you've basically fallen into a constant rapport.

you ask for pictures of the city and he obliges, little peeks into the life he's living while away. yet more evidence this is some bizarrely political mission he doesn't really need to be present for. you note when he moves locales a few times but he tactfully avoids telling you his location again. he stops sending you pictures altogether when you start guessing correctly.

so you start sending him pictures instead. they start out innocent enough, testing the limits of what you're allowed to say on this line. he shows gives no intent to stop you when you show him the view from the summit of a local hike, nor even when you snap a picture outside a local restaurant, its logo left carelessly in frame. he only tells you to enjoy, doubles down when you send a selfie with your cheeks stuffed full of spanakopita.

you start to think he deserves a reward, being on the clock for nearly a month straight and still finding the time to check in with you.

his hangar is a sacred place, one you rarely enter without his accompaniment. too many expensive tools, machinery pulled apart with all its fragile bits exposed. you're always afraid to touch, afraid to break. nik had told you once that every item there was made of sterner stuff, that you couldn't hurt a swashplate if you climbed up on it. funny how you might be taking him up on the offer now.

(you wouldn't know really, the knowledge about what a swashplate even was having gone in one ear and right out the other. not your fault when he looked that good, jumpsuit folded down to reveal a sweaty, clingy tank top, wiry hair visible through the thin ribbed material.)

but you're getting ahead of yourself.

the tarp kicks up a mess when you pull it free, concrete dust having settled in nik's absence. it sends you into a sneezing fit and you curse, smudging your makeup as you try to wipe away the moisture collecting on your lash line. you decide to roll with it when you catch a glimpse of yourself in some nearby chrome, see the kind of effect it brings to your overall look.

your makeup is classic, a bright lip and exaggerated liner. even a painted on beauty mark to really knock it home. the outfit was harder to settle on, your every instinct telling you nik always appreciated when you looked your finest, all dolled up in expensive labels he'd bought for you. but ultimately you'd decided what was good for the goose was good for the gander, pilfering from his closet until you'd found what you were looking for, the exact same outfit which drove you mad.

nik's a big man, his jumpsuit made to reflect that. it drapes away from your waist when you let it hang but it's nothing that a clever safety pin corset can't fix, the top of the suit left to hang over it, hiding it away. long legs are easier to remedy, hems tucked into a pair of hiking boots you hadn't cared about in years, now painted to look the part with the same gear grease you'd smeared all over yourself, tasteful swipes meant to accentuate your soft curves, here on display under the dirty tank top you'd sworn you'd told him to get rid of, now tied tight around your waist to show off your chest. and now with your smudged makeup you think you've finally got it right, the look exactly what you'd been going for when you'd first got the notion in your head.

with the stage already set, the photoshoot goes easily enough. the poses are almost instinctual, the big wrench you wield almost natural in your hands as you lean provocatively over the engine block, tits to squished you doubt he'll ever even notice the size isn't right for the bolts in front of you. you try a couple of different styles, positions which are obviously designed with aesthetics in mind interspersed with more competent looking ones, even though it makes you feel ridiculous when you think of how obvious it will be to him that you don't know what you're doing.

you just have to remember how little he's going to mind it, all told.

editing isn't your strong suit. you're racked with doubt all the while, hyperfocused on every little flaw you spot. it gets easier when you remember the whole shoot is meant to be quite grimy and in the end you settle on a decent collection. you even remember to upload them to a file sharing site to avoid compression, sending him the link with a wink and a warning not to open in front of his comrades.

he calls you naughty immediately, but it's long hours before he can properly respond, a call that wakes you up in the middle of the night so he can pant and moan in your ear about how much he wants to bend you over that engine, peel his suit off of you and eat your cunt from the back. it's the first time you've heard his voice in weeks and the low rumble of it conspires with the slickness in your panties which never fully righted itself after your little photoshoot, the anticipation of his reaction keeping you primed for him. you come together before trading quiet reassurances. how much you miss each other, how you can't wait to see him again. he makes a vague promise to be home soon and you're still so sated that the twinge of loneliness feels like nothing really.

you think that's the end of it. that maybe he'll request more, at most. but then you wake up days later with a furnace at your back and a hairy arm draped over your side. it's still early, the sun not even up yet. you should let him sleep but you can't help rolling within the age of his arm and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. even in the low light you can see how haggard and hollow he looks, run ragged for too long. his beard is overgrown, the short stubble he usually keeps filling out into a decent beard.

really it's unfair how handsome he looks even now.

"go back to sleep."

you huff a laugh and press another kiss to him. lower now that you know he's awake. above his cupid's bow, your own lips drawn tight with your smile. "but it's morning."

"can't be," he counters, voice thick with exhaustion. "i only just fell asleep."

you hum, distracted as you trace the wrinkles of his forehead. was that one always there? was it new? "maybe it's not wherever you were," you concede. "where were you, by the way?"

"where wasn't i?" he sighs as he rolls away, a great puff of air that cuts through the easiness of the morning, reminds you of what exactly he's likely returned from. the culmination of the mission, even the easy one it seemed to be. he was rarely ever trotted out for emissary visits, after all.

but you don't want to think about all that so you follow him as he rolls, laying yourself across his chest to keep him grounded as you rub against his far shoulder. "well you're home now and my vote's for sleeping in."

his chest rumbles beneath you, a quiet laugh you can feel more so than you can hear. he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your fingers before setting it back down in favor of reaching much lower to pull you more properly onto him. your grip shifts from his shoulder to his bicep and you pause when you feel the edge of a bandage there, worry settling low in your belly as you trace the edges of it. "you're hurt?" you demand, but you don't give him a chance to respond before sitting up and leaning across him to turn the lamp on.

it takes you a moment to make sense of what you're looking at, the bandage you'd felt before nothing more than four haphazard lines of tape holding a square of black plastic against his skin. he laughs at your confusion, thumbing the furrow between your brows away as he also sits up, pulling you onto his lap as he reassures you he's not hurt.

"what's that then?" you ask, afraid to peel the edges up and see for yourself.

he's chuckling as he does it for you, the wrap pulling away to reveal the neat black lines and bold color of a traditional tattoo, a plump little pinup in a barely-hanging-on mechanic's jumpsuit, her cartoonishly circular tits squeezed between her own arms as she leaned confidently over simplified engine block. it's good work from what you can tell. his bicep is a big canvas, the tattoo itself appropriately sized, leaving the artist enough room for minute details, smudges of brown oil accentuating your curves and a wry smile below demure lids.

still.

"you didn't," you scoff, too blown away to even know if you're actually mad or not. you don't think you are, but what if he -

what if -

"well it was either this or i get you airbrushed on the side of the blackhawk, but you are mine, and i do not want just anyone to see you like that."

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 15.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG. Shit in my life hit a royal fan, so that took a lot of my immediate attention. So, we got into Tony's head, and now I think we should jump into the other groups now <3 Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 14

Steve could still remember the way the HYDRA base had smelled the first time he had seen Bucky since he'd gone missing in action during World War II. The burning oil from the guns, the smoke and iron from explosions and blood staining the air like wine on white, and the smell of ozone just before it began to rain. It was all as though it was yesterday despite it being almost 80 years since then.

80 years since he last saw Peggy Carter.

Well, Steve guessed he could count the times he saw her after he woke up; her old and frail body reminding him of the time he had lost since he went under the ice...her casket heavy upon Steve's shoulder when he carried her to the hearse the day of her funeral.

But it didn't take away the feelings of regret and sorrow. Steve didn't regret putting the plane beneath the ice, but he did regret never getting that raincheck for their dance. Even so, Steve knew that Peggy would have wanted him to be happy; to keep fighting for what he believed in; to keep fighting for the little guys.

And so that's what Steve did. He kept fighting, kept saving, kept advocating, and yet it never felt like it was enough. Even when he saved Bucky, Steve still felt as though something was missing. There was never enough records, old antiques that weren't actually antiques to him, never enough clothes that felt right; it all just reminded him that he was living in a time that wasn't his own.

But unlike (Y/n) (L/n), he'd been allotted a lot of time to get used to the new world. Granted, Steve still couldn't stand the hustle and bustle and the noise of the New World, but Steve imagined that it was ten times harder for her. Hell, he still couldn't stand fireworks, and Bucky downright sobbed during the holidays because of them.

Steve sighed as he thumbed at the worn lensatic compass that still held that pretty picture of Peggy in it, and he couldn't help but to look at the picture, pursing his lips.

Yes, Steve understood what it meant to be out of place and because of that, it made him determined to help those that were like him and Bucky if and when he met them.

When he came across the female Winter Soldier with Bucky, Steve had felt shocked yet relieved for having found this woman, and though Bucky had been so reluctant to save her from staying frozen until the end of time, Steve couldn't help but feel determined to defrost her and save her, Peggy's words repeating in his head like a mantra.

"The world has changed, and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes, the best that we can do, is to start over."

Just like him and Bucky, this woman also deserved a chance to start over; to be free of what HYDRA had done to her, and though Steve didn't want to admit it, he couldn't help but to see Bucky again when he looked at this woman.

Though, even Steve knew that what they had done to her had been ten times worse given the horrific scars that had been covering her body. Steve hadn't watched any of the recorded clips that Shuri had obtained while working on the woman's programming, but given the way Shuri, Tony, and Bucky had been acting since being shown the clips, Steve didn't even want to watch them.

Even he knew that he might lose his cool for once.

It made it even worse when Steve discovered that Jack Rollins had been her Handler. Did Brock know, too? Did he also Handle this woman under the guise that it was 'nothing personal'?

"Still feels personal," Steve muttered to himself. Steve became aware of Sam leaning against the wall beside him, his arms crossed and looking ahead as they waited for Thor to arrive at their location to begin their investigation.

"You know, I think you really just like missing person cases. Have you thought of being a detective?"

Steve couldn't help but to chuckle as he glanced at Sam, stating with a small smile.

"I thought about it, but I don't think I'd be satisfied like I am now."

Sam barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gestured to Steve's shield with a raised brow.

"Just can't seem to stay away, huh?"

"I know, it follows me everywhere, man."

The two men chuckled, and Sam stared at Steve for a moment, noticing the downtrodden look crawl back upon the old Captain's face, and he pointed out to Steve.

"You seem like you're back in the trenches."

Steve chuckled before shaking his head slightly, teasing gently.

"I never was actually in the trenches, so that might be a question for Bucky rather than me."

Sam shook his head a bit as well, making a face at Steve before stating.

"Well, I'm not about to go make a quick trip to ask. Seriously, man, what's on your mind?"

Steve pursed his lips tightly before he admitted to Sam, giving the man a worried look.

"I'm just...worried about the woman is all. With Bucky's rehabilitation, it hadn't been easy for him...and it still isn't, if I'm honest. I'm worried that he might have been right...if it would have been better for us to leave her frozen so she wouldn't be in danger like she is."

Sam glanced over at Steve, regarding him with a thoughtful look before he crossed his arms and replied thoughtfully.

"I think you're overthinking it, Steve. Even if you'd have left her there, she would have been in the same amount of danger as she is now."

Steve looked over at Sam, giving the man his undivided attention as Sam continued to speak his mind.

"Just like with Bucky, you strived to advocate for her; to give her a life and the ability to choose who she wants to be. If you ask me, that's a pretty big deal...especially considering who and what she is. You surrounded her with people that actually want to help her and not use her. I think that you and I both know that this is going to be a difficult road, but I also know it'll be worth it to see her blossom into herself and not what HYDRA wanted her to be. Just like with Bucky."

Sam clasped Steve's shoulder, giving him a firm look.

"You did the right thing, Steve...and if that doesn't make you think so...then I think at least Peggy would have been proud."

Steve couldn't help but to furrow his brows at the mention of Peggy, glancing down at the compass again, and he shook his head.

"No wonder you're a speaker at the VA. You're pretty good at this."

"You have to be. Sometimes you're the only thing a brother or a sister has left."

The two men couldn't help but to jolt as the Bifrost Bridge suddenly came crashing down beside them with a bang of thunder, Thor Odinson shaking his shoulders a little bit as a spark of lightning crawled over his chest as he appeared.

"I did not anticipate how difficult a phone could be. What's even the point of it when you could just tell me what I need to know in person. Even a raven would suffice. Less problems."

Sam couldn't help but to ask as he brushed off the invisible dust from his uniform as Steve gave Thor an understanding look.

"I don't reckon you get great service from Asgard, huh?"

"Terrible, actually, I couldn't even hear a word Tony Stark was saying...which isn't really tragic."

Steve nodded a bit before he asked Thor, the God of Thunder giving him a curious look.

"I don't suppose you were able to hear what was going on all the while?"

Thor then made a face as if trying to remember the interaction with Tony, saying.

"Well, I think I hung up when Tony said to meet you here, so not really."

Steve almost lost his composure, closing his eyes and shaking his head while Sam just snorted, crossing his arms.

"Right. We're going after a HYDRA operative by the name of Jack Rollins. We don't really know where he is, but the site that we're going to is a possible location. Even if he's not there, we're going to eradicate any possible activity. It's about time that HYDRA is stopped once and for all. Tony was able to capture an image of the base, so we should get moving."

The three of them began to journey to the HYDRA base, Thor asking as they walked and kept an eye out for danger.

"So, what is the significance of this human? Other than the fact that he is apart of this...horrible organization, it seems there is more to this than I am being informed of."

Steve gave Thor a look, almost like a brother chastising the other.

"Well, if you hadn't hung up on Tony, he would have been able to tell you."

Thor just waved off Steve, shrugging his shoulders a little bit as they began to approach the HYDRA base.

"His theatrics annoy me."

Steve wisely elected not to comment, instead giving Thor the rundown of the last couple of weeks.

"Bucky and I rescued a woman that was a part of the Winter Soldier program...probably created right after Bucky was. We've been trying to rehabilitate her and free her from HYDRA's mind control, but we've been having issues. Jack Rollins was her Handler, and he's been controlling her remotely...probably for a while."

Thor then hummed, saying with a raised brow as he swung Mjolnir around.

"It sounds as though this is personal."

"Potentially. What matters the most is that we eradicate HYDRA. If not for her or Bucky, then for the world. This is a dangerous group of people that are willing to do whatever it takes to gain complete control."

Thor sighed heavily, looking down at the hammer in his hands, scrunching his nose a little bit as he spoke while pointing Mjolnir at Steve.

"Well, even so, I understand the need to protect the honor of a maiden, so I shall accompany you to this HYDRA base and we shall cut off every head of the beast until the earth is pouring with its blood."

Sam and Steve stared at Thor for a moment before Sam asked him with a squint.

"Did you just come up with that on the spot or are you always this poetic?"

Thor shrugged, giving Sam a thoughtful expression as he replied.

"It comes and goes. My mother used to recite the Vǫluspá to Loki and I when we were younger."

 Sam just gave Steve a look, and the old Avenger just shrugged his shoulders before asking the two men.

"Are you guys ready? We're closing in."

Thor then asked as Steve and Sam began to carefully maneuver through the trees to stay out of sight while the God continued to walk as if there was no threat imminent.

"Do you think that I could meet this woman? I think it'll be fascinating. Are female Winter Soldier's different than males? Can she kick Barnes' ass like a Valkyrie?"

Steve pursed his lips, glancing back at Thor with a raised brow.

"Do you want to find out?"

"Well, I think a round or two would be healthy. You know, gauge her skills...see where she can improve."

Sam gave Steve a questioning look.

"Didn't she put a knife through the quinjet windshield? You know, the one made with synthesized AM-III carbon?"

"I don't know what that is."

Thor pointed out with a confused look on his face, and Steve just replied.

"It's strong as hell."

Thor just nodded before he gestured to the large building that they had approached.

"This is the supposed base?"

"Yes. We want to try to be as inconspicuous as possible just in case there is activity."

When Thor didn't respond, Steve and Sam both looked back with a confused look before the sound of thunder and lightning crashing down on the building made the two Avengers fill with dread.

"Is there anybody in the Avengers initiative that actually listens to you?"

Steve just sighed and replied.

"Let's just follow him."

The mission began then, the two men desperately chasing after the God as Thor flew through the building. What perturbed Steve, however, was the fact that there seemed to be no fighting. No yells, no gunshots, no explosions.

Silence.

The place was empty, barren of any furniture and equipment nor documents. It was as though it had been completely cleaned out. Thor came back with a frown, stating as he looked around with confusion.

"The rest of the area is completely barren. Nobody has been here for a while."

"Did you check the lower levels?"

Thor glanced back at the hole he had created on the floor, scratching the back of his head.

"I think so."

Sam shook his head, adjusting his goggles so that they were sitting on top of his head.

"That just doesn't make any sense. It's almost as if they know where we're looking and are cleaning everything out right under our noses."

Steve pursed his lips and looked at Thor.

"You're positive that there was nothing in the building?"

Thor frowned, crossing his arms.

"Why would I be dishonest to you?"

Sam pursed his lips again before he asked.

"What if they have someone on the inside already?"

Thor and Steve looked at Sam with similar expressions of dread. Sam shrugged and continued.

"We know that HYDRA is scary-good at infiltrations and establishing themselves in even the most secure places in the world. In a kingdom of thousands, a rat is bound to get through somehow, especially when the King is already preoccupied with trying to find a specific person. It's just like Nat said: it's easier to get things done when the attention isn't on you."

Thor pointed towards Steve, stating.

"We should get to Wakanda as soon as possible. If he is right, then that means the maiden and your friend are in danger of this foul beast. I can get us there almost immediately using the Bifrost Bridge so they are not devoured by the HYDRA."

Both Steve and Sam give Thor a questioning look.

"You...know it's not a real beast, right?"

Thor made a face at them both.

"Of course I knew that...I just thought it'd be poetic."

Thor looked away, but Sam could still see the embarrassed look on the god's face before he looked to Steve, who was shaking his head to get back on track.

"Listen, we can't just leave the quinjet behind. Stark will have my ass about it."

Steve protested, and Sam clasped his shoulder with a frown.

"You two go on ahead, I'll fly that bird home. Bucky and (Y/n) are in danger, Steve. The quicker you get there, the better off they'll be."

Steve nodded and Thor grabbed the captain's shoulder, nodding to Sam.

"Good luck."

With a strange sound of surging energy, the Bifrost suddenly crashed down upon Thor and Steve, leaving Sam where he was standing as he watched the bridge disappear, and Sam couldn't help but mutter to himself.

"One of these days....just you wait."

-

STORY NOTES: Steve recalls the HYDRA base that he had found Bucky in after Bucky went missing back in WWII. He recalls the smell of smoke, burnt gun oil, and other scents during that time, and Steve makes a note that he could still remember that day clearly. He begins to think about Peggy Carter and his regrets and sorrows of not getting to spend his life with her like he wanted to, and so to honor her, he continues to fight for those around him.

He begins to sympathize with (Y/n) (L/n) and how it must be jarring for her to be thrust into an era she is not from, and the struggles that came with adjusting to a new world. He recalls that when he had found her, Bucky had been reluctant to save her, but Steve was determined because of the memory of a quote that Peggy had said to him before she passed away.

After some more personal reflections, Steve is greeted by Sam Wilson, who jokes with Steve to lighten the mood. When he is unsuccessful, Sam asks Steve what is on his mind. Steve opens up to Sam about his worries and how he is wondering if Steve had done the right thing in defrosting the woman, and Sam is adamant that Steve had done the right thing. He tells Steve that he thinks Peggy would have been proud, and Steve begins to feel better.

The moment is interrupted with the arrival of Thor Odinson, who makes a complaint about the difficulty of cellular devices and how it would have been much easier for someone to send a raven to him. Sam makes a joke about the reception in Asgard, to which Thor quips that he couldn't hear what Tony was saying and it 'wasn't really tragic'. Steve asks Thor if he was able to hear the mission details, and Thor reveals that he actually hung up on Tony, not that he had bad reception.

Steve begins to go into details about their mission and what the plan is, and Thor makes a comment that the mission seemed personal. Steve is vague with his response, but neither Thor nor Sam comment about it. When Thor mentions cutting off 'every head of the beast', Sam makes a joke, in which Thor replies that his mother used to read the Vǫluspá to him and Loki when they were younger.

As they approach the base, Thor makes a inquiry about female Winter Soldier's and if they were as strong and skilled as Valkyries, in which Sam and Steve both imply that (Y/n) is most likely on par with one since she was able to embed a knife into the strongest glass in the world. After a while, the three arrive to the base, and though Steve tries to plan out a strategic entrance, Thor immediately begins to assault the base.

Steve makes a note that the place seems deadly silent and completely barren, no furniture or desks in sight. Thor comes back with a similar report, telling Steve that the base is completely abandoned, and Sam makes a comment that it seems as though HYDRA already seems to know where the Avengers will be looking. He inquires about a possible infiltration in Wakanda, and Thor tells Steve that they should get to Wakanda as soon as possible. Thor and Steve leaving using the Bifrost Bridge while Sam stays behind to take the quinjet home. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Vǫluspá: "The Prophecy of the Völva [Seeress]". It is one of the most famous and important poems in the Poetic Edda, which is a collection of Old Norse mythos and poems. The Vǫluspá goes into detail about Norse Mythology, including the creation of the world, its current state, and its ultimate destruction during Ragnarök—the apocalyptic battle of the gods—and subsequent rebirth.

Valkyrie: [Valkyrja] "Chooser of the Slain": A warrior faction of Norse Mythology often depicted as powerful Asgardian women who serve Odin. Their main role is to choose which Asgardian warrior will live or die in battle. They also guide the fallen warrior to Valhalla, Odin's great hall in Asgard where the warriors [known as Einherjar] prepare for Ragnarök

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane

[oh-no-its-bird]

Do you think kakashi felt some type when seeing the 3 tails?

ARE YOU THE GUY WHO ACCIDENTSLLY SENT THIS TO DOVEY BC THATS SO FUNNY

I literally just saw that post and went, "oh huh, I wonder who they meant to send that to" (idly remembers some people used to get me and Dovey confused bc we both used to both have black and white profile pictures) "it'd be funny if it were me. Unlikely tho."

Ummm anyways omg hi yes Kakashi this is a Kakashi loving blog let me seeee

I think that Kakashi has less complex feelings about specifically the three tails, and more the situation surrounding it.

Like, Rin died bc someone put him in her, yes. But there was also just a lot going on that day, and I do think that a lot of things Kakashi might have been able to get hung up on were also ultimatley overshadowed by the ultimate hang up he came out of that fight obsessing over: his own hand being put through Rin's chest

Like, in a list of "people Kakashi spends thinking about / blaming when it comes to Rin" the actual 3 tails is,,, pretty low on the list.

I can totally see him like, pausing, maybe having a minor flash back or two when sensing Isobu's chakra. But nothing big— the 3 tails involvement in Rin's death and the horrible trauma of that day was only one of many, many pieces.

But to him, the biiju was just a tool used in the situation. (Just like he was ultimatley just a tool, the final weapon used to kill Rin.)

Is there a bit of a grudge? Yeah, I buy that. If Kakashi had to pick a biiju, he would not be picking the 3 tails ever. He probably stares a little bit too hard at Isobu when he sees him then looks away, silent and determined not to think about it

I do think there's an interesting conversation of also like: Kushina's involvement in his life and his unique perspective of jinchuriki he may have gained from being around her and then Naruto

After the biiju are humanized to him through Naruto 'friendship is magic' Uzumaki too, hed probably be even less hung up on Isobu too. Maybe he'd even feel a bit of pity for him— after all, he too was used as a weapon. Just another tool of destruction, for others to use as they please

I'm actually a HUGE fan also of jinchuriki Kakashi aus ,,, my favorite is when they put the 3 tails in him instead of Rin so I do sometimes like to think ab just. Them interacting.

Give me 3 tails jinchuriki Kakashi or give me death !!!!

In conclusion: I do think Kakashi felt some kind of way when seeing the 3 tails, but that type of way was very layered and a little fogged up by other things and issues he had overlapping and overshadowing it

[ckret2]

Do you think Bill would like 100 gecs and/or hyperpop?

sometimes I get asked "would Bill like [music]?"—usually about music that's outside of what I've already said he seems to like—and I feel like the majority of the logic behind those questions is "this sounds Weird™, and Bill is Weird, so therefore, I think he should like it."

I've got a very detailed post—plus multiple expansions on it—about what music Bill seems to like based on canon. Outside of LITERALLY non-musical sounds like rising shepherd tones, all evidence suggests his tastes are pretty mainstream: popular 40s~60s music like jazz, motown, and garage rock; and popular dance/club music, seemingly from the 90s onward.

Bill is the Joker "to men like me, Crazy Train is about a normal train" meme. He's a trillion-year-old alien; I'd suspect that to him, "weird human music" probably doesn't even register as weird music, merely human music, which is all equally weird by virtue of being alien to him (or perhaps equally non-weird, by virtue of being so small-mindedly human). Musically pushing the envelope is still well within the bounds of Shit Humans Listen To to him. A guy who considers rising shepherd tones musical isn't going to think extreme distortion or heavily processed vocals are remarkable.

(I think the fact that one of the faux reviews of TBOB is from Weird Al going "this is too weird for me, I'm just Normal Al now" says something about just how far Bill sits outside of even "weird" human musicians' concepts of normalcy.)

So for him to like hyperpop, it'd have to stand on its own merits as the kind of music he'd already like rather than getting a special VIP pass just for being weird.

And when you discount the "hyper," hyperpop is pop. Pop of many genres, but still pop. It's got bits of hip hop and bits of dance and bits of metal and bits of punk—and when it sounds like dance music, he might like it based on its merits as dance music.

But because of its shifting nature, with a lot of artists and in a lot of songs, it doesn't tend to remain dance music very long. It's dance for 20 seconds and then it's heavy screamo and then it's a capella with a drum track consisting of clapping and then it's dubstep for 15 seconds finally we can dance to this again and then it's ska and then it's a kawaii J-pop love song but in English and then it's the THX sound. Bill's only intrigued for the non-consecutive 38 seconds that it's dance, dubstep, and the THX sound.

And we can't discount the fact that he finds (some) synth music painful. Since he seems fine with modern EDM, I think it's probably particularly-80s-sounding synth music that's the problem—but since hyperpop stylistically samples so widely, I'd imagine danger synths aren't off the table. So there's that risk too, even if it's a small one.

On top of that? A lot of the genre runs on "cutesy sounding, angsty lyrics." I think Bill's neutral on cutesy sounding, but I think he's disgusted by angsty lyrics. As if HE'D play that whiny mopey spineless junk! He's a PARTY GUY, he's a FUN GUY, he's ALWAYS HAPPY, and NOTHING EVER BOTHERS HIM! When he's eight substances deep into a wild bender/party he doesn't wanna hear a song about using 4loko as a coping mechanism to hide your depression/anxiety! When he's being Haunted By The Ghosts Of His Terrible Past, he doesn't turn on music that he finds relatable and wallow in the feeling, he pushes it away and drowns it out with something loud and cheerful and positive—and that is canon.

So, he may like specific hyperpop artists whose music is particularly danceable and whose lyrics are less consistently angsty; but given the genre they're embedded in, he'd be unlikely to stumble on them naturally. It's definitely out on the periphery of the kind of music he'd listen to.

At their heart, I think 100 gecs sounds more like early 00s emo than like any other one genre, especially their more recent stuff. I think getting into emo music could fix Bill Cipher; but "I think this would fix Bill" is basically a synonym for "I think in canon Bill wouldn't touch this with a 10 foot pole."

[littlemourningstarr]

The Pleasured Dead

Lucanis doesn't know how to handle the bursts of arousal he gets around Emmrich, other than to tease his lover. But his actions do have consequences, and Emmrich is more than happy to reminder Lucanis of that.

Pairing: Emmrich Volkarin x Lucanis Dellamorte

Read below or on AO3!

Tags: bones are sex toys now, anal penetration, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, voyeurism

Lucanis's back pressed tight to the stone slab, dark eyes wide as he stared up at the high ceiling of the Necropolis. His breath rushed out, as he felt Emmrich grip one of his ankles, lifting on leg enough that he could work at the lacing of his boot, behind his thigh.

He hadn't expected Emmrich to push him, to sprawl him out and begin undressing him. Sure, he'd taunted- he'd been teasing Emmrich with little looks and touches all day, only to finally press himself tight to his necromancer's back and breath into his shoulder how badly he wanted him-

But Emmrich was typically so composed, even when teased. The torrent of need didn't rip itself from him until they were behind closed doors.

Typically.

"Darling, you can be such a tart." Emmrich pulled Lucanis's boot off, dropping it to the ground, before turning to his other leg. "Sometimes I wonder if Spite has bled his way into your actions."

Lucanis squirmed, his second boot dropped. He felt Emmrich's hands slid up his thighs, begin undoing his pants.

"Emmrich- we're…"

"In the open?" Lucanis lifted his head, and the sheer obsidian gleam to Emmrich's eyes had his stomach going so tight it ached, his cock giving a heavy throb in his pants. "I am quite aware, dearest."

Emmrich's skilled fingers had Lucanis's pants open before he could even respond, and out of instinct Lucanis lifted his hips when Emmrich pulled, taking both his pants and his underwear down his thighs. His cock bobbed free, and he shivered against the chill of the crypt air.

"Someone could see us, Emmrich," he managed, even as Emmrich carefully guided his clothing off his legs completely, dropping them onto the ground. No pausing to fold them, to tuck them up onto something to ensure they didn't get dirty.

It was telling as to how intent Emmrich was. It had Lucanis nearly trembling.

"I assure you, the only planned excursion this deep into the Shrouded Halls was my own. It is highly unlikely any of my fellow Watchers will stumble upon us. But…" Emmrich danced his fingers up Lucanis's naked thighs, spreading them wide- so wide that Lucanis flushed, felt utterly exposed. "I can't promise the dead won't enjoy a bit of a show."

His fingers dug into Lucanis's thighs, and his Crow dropped his head back onto the slab, staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember to breathe. When Emmrich's gloved hand gently took his cock, thumb rolling along his cockhead and smearing precum, he did forget, for a moment.

Emmrich tsk'd. "I thought I'd satiated you this morning, darling. To be in such a state already…" He stroked, slowly, and Lucanis arched his back. It was true, Emmrich had taken him in his mouth that morning until Lucanis had met the gods they'd killed months ago.

And then he'd taken him until Lucanis found release again, sobbing breathless into Emmrich's own pillow, Spite howling in ecstasy over the shared sensations.

Before Emmrich, Lucanis had never felt this drowning torrent of desire- but gods, now? A mere few seconds in the man's presence had him feeling mad, ravenous, rabid with need. He barely knew how to handle it, how to handle himself.

Emmrich released his cock, and Lucanis could hear him step away from where he was laid out. He pushed himself up, braced on one hand, watched as Emmrich paused to examine a pile of bones.

He lifted a curved rib, turning it in the magical glowing green light of the braziers around them, before setting it down. A moment later he lifted another bone, longer and straight, one end large and bulbous, the other only slightly rounded. Emmrich ran his fingers over it, before a little smile lit up his face.

"This," he said, properly turning and holding the bone up, "is an ulna."

A part of the lower arm, it and the radius connected at the elbow to the humerus- Lucanis knew how much force was needed to snap one, to incapacitate an individual's arm and force them to drop their weapon. He said as much, as Emmrich approached, slipped between his thighs.

"Very good, my dear boy." Emmrich pressed the rounded tip to Lucanis's inner thigh, dragged it up the supple skin. It was cold, left goosebumps in its wake. When it reached his groin, Emmrich dragged the bone along his cock, and Lucanis bit at his lip.

"What are you doing?" he asked, cursing the tremble in his voice.

Emmrich hummed, before he passed the bone to his gloved hand and reached within his coat. He pulled out a vial, opened it single-handedly, and Lucanis watched with wide eyes as Emmrich poured some sort of oil on the bone, left it glistening in the dim light.

He wasn't… he couldn't- there was no way he planned to…

"Lay back, my love." Emmrich passed the now slick bone back to his bare hand, his gloved hand reaching up to gently cradle Lucanis's face, thumb playing through his beard, along his jawline. Lucanis felt his heart racing, hammering painfully into his ribs, as if seeking to squeeze out between the spaces between them. The panic rose and he stared up at Emmrich, whose face softened. "I promise you're safe."

Lucanis took a single breath- and, of course he was. Emmrich wouldn't do something he wouldn't enjoy-

Emmrich wouldn't do something he wouldn't enjoy.

Emmrich had never once touched him in anyway that Lucanis didn't want, didn't enjoy- and that simple acknowledgment eased the panic in his chest. Panic which hadn't affected his cock in anyway- he was still hard, still wanton.

Lucanis laid back, and Emmrich pressed his gloved hand to his belly, as he nudged his thighs open wider. The feeling of the rounded, but not bulbous, ending of the bone slipping between his flesh and pressing to his hole was strange, cold-

But his panic didn't rise again.

His body reacted on instinct, as he swore it always did for Emmrich- and gods, the man had worked him so thoroughly open that morning that the bone slid in with ease. Lucanis choked, eyes going a bit wide, a shiver wracking him. The hand flat on his belly pressed gently.

"Good, good." Emmrich's voice was soothing, as he eased as much of the bone into Lucanis that he could take- certainly not all of it, heavens, but enough that it was more than pressing at his prostate. He sucked in a breath, cock dribbling precum onto his belly, resting right next to Emmrich's thumb. "Look how much you took, my love."

Oh Maker, was Emmrich going to talk him through it? The sound of his voice could drive Lucanis wild- but he still wasn't sure how to handle the lewd things the man could say. And the fact that Emmrich still seemed so composed, even when the words that came out of his mouth rivaled the text of those romance novels Viago so loved.

Emmrich pushed his hand a bit higher, rucking up Lucanis's shirt and waistcoat more. He eased the bone back, before sliding it into Lucanis again with ease, setting a rhythm that had Lucanis's hands scrambling along the slab beneath him- fingers finding no purchase on the smooth stone.

He tipped his head back more, swore he could see dancing lights, above them. Wisps.

Emmrich must have noticed his distraction, because he offered, "They're curious about the noises you're making, Lucanis." He pressed the bone right to Lucanis's prostate, and Lucanis let his mouth fall open, offering a wanton moan up to the spirits. "I can hear the other spirits as well, murmuring."

Lucanis squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suck in a breath. The bone had begun to warm from his body, was no longer chilled like the stone beneath him. Despite that it wasn't curved in the perfect way like Emmrich's cock, it still hit enough of the spots inside him that he was seeing sparks behind his closed eyes. That it was still good.

Emmrich's hand left his belly, and suddenly the bone paused movement, as Lucanis felt Emmrich lifting one of his legs. "Up with me," he whispered, and Lucanis obliged, whimpering when he got his ankle to rest on Emmrich's shoulder. Emmrich turned, kissed the delicate bone, before the bone shifted again, getting deeper into Lucanis with the new angle.

He tossed his head, breath coming in rough pants. His cock ached to the point that it was nearly too much, weeping for attention, for friction.

"Come now, take your pleasure." Emmrich had barely spoken before Lucanis was taking his own cock in hand, stroking quickly. He arched up, before he met the thrust of the bone, keening and trembling as his body lit up like lightning. He was so close, so desperate- "Just look at you. What a wonderful sight."

It was Emmrich's words that threw him over the edge.

His orgasm rocked him down to his toes, had his body trying to clench at the bone inside him, his cock spurting over his hand, cum splattering along the hem of his shirt, the edges of his waistcoat. Emmrich's name left his lips like a hymn, as he arched, and he felt Emmrich's hand tightening on his leg, guiding his hips closer to the bone as he continued to thrust it.

The room was spinning when Lucanis opened his eyes, hand still wrapped around his cock but no longer moving. His necromancer pushed the bone harder, and he yelped, eyes going wide- only the hear Emmrich chuckle.

"I'd dare say one moment of release isn't enough for you." He leaned over him slightly, forcing his leg back- and fuck, Lucanis could imagine he was in the necromancer's bed, both his legs up on his shoulders as he nearly folded him over, had him sobbing. "Do you think you can come again, Lucanis?"

Lucanis stared up, bleary eyed, before his hand fell away from his cock. It was softening, but that didn't matter- he knew Emmrich could make him come again and again.

He managed a nod, and the smile Emmrich gave him was dazzling. "Splendid." He straightened back up, slightly changed the angle he was holding the bone at, and pushed it directly against Lucanis's sweet spot.

The younger man cried out, voice sounding a bit hoarse, as his hips began to move, meeting each thrust. His nerves felt as if they were on fire, fraying at the edges- but it was good, so good.

He whimpered, and heard Emmrich offer softly, "I know, he is such a delight." Lucanis tried to lift his head, to ask who Emmrich was speaking to. "Don't fret, darling- it's just the spirits. They're as enamored with you as I am."

Lucanis swallowed thickly, couldn't tell if it was two sets, ten, a hundred sets of eyes watching him from the crevices of the Necropolis. But mind blurry and sluggish with his first orgasm, it made him smile.

Let every spirit int the entire building, in all of Nevarra, know who their corpse whisperer wanted. Let them know who he loved, cherished, pleased-

Lucanis trembled, a second orgasm digging its claws into him. He whined, his cock managing a single, thick bead of cum, but nothing else, as his muscles clenched with a death grip on the bone inside him. Emmrich was whispering to him, little words of encouragement, of endearment.

Laid out, filthy, with a fucking human bone inside him, and Lucanis still felt more adored than he ever had, in his life.

Emmrich paused his thrusting, but Lucanis couldn't even lift his head to try and look at him. He felt it retracting, and thought Emmrich would pull it from his body, when the older man suddenly offered, "Hmmm. I think one more, yes?"

And then it was pushing back into him with the sort of force that ripped a cry from his lips. Lucanis sucked in a breath so deep, so quickly the room spun, tears clinging to his dark lashes as the blackness of the ceiling above them seemed to creep down into his vision. His body took and took, greedy as it always was for whatever pleasure Emmrich promised- but he felt almost outside it.

Everything was beyond overstimulated now- every slide of the bone against his prostate felt like another orgasm, ripping through him. He was trembling, couldn't stop, flexed his hands and wanted so badly to be clinging to Emmrich, clutching at his shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck- one of Lucanis's favorite places.

He truly wasn't sure if he came again- the seconds and minutes felt like hours and yet no time at all- it all melted into a concoction of nothing, a spinning void in his head. It was only when he heard the bone clatter to the floor, felt his leg guided off Emmrich's shoulder, that became aware of his body.

And then Emmrich, leaning over him, gently cupping his face, thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. "Hush, hush, you're alright. Lucanis, can you look at me?" Lucanis tried, but he swore his eyes couldn't focus. He closed them instead, for a moment, focusing on the feeling of Emmrich's delicate hands, the cool bands of his many rings. "Breath in with me, my love." Lucanis did, and Emmrich whispered, "Hold, don't exhale until I say so." Lucanis listened, and after a few moments exhaled on Emmrich's command, before inhaling again.

After a minute or two of guided breathing, he was able to open his eyes, focus his gaze on Emmrich. His necromancer offered a smile, and Lucanis felt his chest blooming in a wildfire of heat.

How could he still feel so fucking loved, laying out debauched like this?

"There you are," Emmrich said, "can you sit up, or do you need to lay?" Lucanis licked his lips, tried to croak out an answer- and when it didn't work he simply attempted to bend, at the waist. Emmrich guided him up, and Lucanis felt his insides seeming to rearrange, everything sore but with the pleasant, satiated feeling he'd learned came from a good fuck.

He must have winced, because he caught the flare of concern, on Emmrich's face. "I'm fine," he managed, his voice wrecked. After a pause, he added, "I don't know if my legs will ever work again, though."

Emmrich laughed at that, peppering kisses to Lucanis's temple. "I'll levitate you all the way back to bed, my love, if necessary."

It was a ridiculous notion, and yet the coddling made Lucanis giddy.

"I fear we made a mess of you," Emmrich offered, looking down at Lucanis's shirt and waistcoat. He tried to wipe away the cum clinging to the hem- and when he did Lucanis's reached for his hand, lifted it and popped Emmrich's fingers into his mouth, rolling his tongue over them. His own flavor, mingled with the salt of Emmrich's skin, was something he had learned early on he quite enjoyed.

Emmrich gave a little groan, and Lucanis glanced down- could tell how aroused his necromancer was. The shape of his cock was pressed tight to his pants, had to be damn near painful.

Yet when he released Emmrich's hand, moved to touch him, Emmrich caught his wrist, holding him firm. "Not in your state, Lucanis. Just take the time to get yourself in order." When Lucanis opened his mouth to protest, Emmrich's stare grew stern. "I mean it. Perhaps tonight, if you're back fully in your body. By the way you were crying out… your very soul might be flitting about with the spirits."

Lucanis felt heat rising in his cheeks, but didn't argue. After all, he had screamed his throat raw. Besides, the thought of getting his mouth around Emmrich, of feeling the way the man's lithe body trembled when he was so close to the breaking point- it gave him something to look forward to.

[lurking-latinist]

⛵

[but-a-humble-selfshipper]

Something about Dave and L.L. both having abusive parents you knoooow is due to end poorly y'know. Like last time someone shared trauma with L.L. they both nearly ended up dead (Beau). VERY different circumstances of course but it goes to show how bad it tends to go.

I'm not going Anywhere in particular with this like I don't have a scenario or anything I just know their traumas would clash and blend in a way that'd incapacitate each other.

[shotmrmiller]

military issued wife but you didn't know that using the "dating app" your friend brought up once in idle talk would end with you in an office with a (signed) marriage license on the desk, actively not looking at your 'husband', the burly lummox with a skull mask who's dwarfing the chair he can barely fit in.

you'd thought it'd be like tinder. a potential dating site. as in messaging on the app, getting to know each other, exchanging personal numbers before going on a date. not marriage. not opening your front door expecting it to be your door dasher and instead it's him with a rucksack in one hand and duffel in the other.

he'd looked down his thick nose at you, grunted a quiet, "not bad", and pushed past as if you were a swinging door to a saloon. what the fuck had he been doing there? you'd only spoken a couple of times with him and left on read for the some of it. you'd chosen to move on, try to match with someone else but the app had stopped working (you couldn't swipe right or left anymore) so you'd just put it on the back burner. you had better things to worry about than another disappointment of a man then.

except now said disappointment of a overly large man is taking up most of the couch and his legs aren't even all that far apart. and he's at your house. the house you'd never sent him the address to. as a matter of fact, you'd received a text from an unknown number earlier that had said someone would be home in a few. you'd ignored it thinking it was a wrong number situation but now you're sure it was him. how he got your phone number is also a mystery.

you'd tried to argue. to threaten him with the cops. to get him out and away, far fucking away, but he'd only scooped you up and let you pelt his broad back with your fists. chuckled low in his throat while he smacked your arse to keep still. "i'd hate to drop m'wife."

whatever fight you had he ate right out of you with the heels of your feet digging into the large curve of his shoulders and his hands curled around the back of your thighs. maybe it's because it'd been a while but he'd played your body like an instrument and had you bucking your hips against his tongue, slick coating his face in minutes. (your cheeks burn furiously hot when you think back on what he'd said then. "tight little thing 'nd you've only taken my two fingers." it's flattering, sue you.)

he'd lapped at your sodden cunt until you had overstimulation clumping your lashes together, inner thighs tender from the bristles of his shorn hair and unshaven jaw, your palm on the crown of his head having both pulled him to you and pushed him away.

and then he'd wiped your release with the back of his hand, thumbed the swollen flesh of your bottom lip and rumbled that it's time for bed.

which eventually led to you being here. in front of a man he calls Price, a marriage certificate unlike any you've ever glanced upon, a large gloved hand curled snugly around your leg, fingers grazing a little too close to where he'd left aching and swollen just yesterday.

you're reading the terms and conditions of anything from here on forward. even the fine print.

and then soap comes around and plants a seed in his head of him planting a seed in you :/ at least you can tell your nosy ass aunt that at least you've got a man while she's on her 4th divorce on thanksgiving 💅🏼

[bi-writes]

I think first make out session of Simon and his mail order bride happened because she wore sundress all day ~~ i'm a bit addicted to the way you writing Simon

mail-order bride

reader described as curvier/plus-sized 18+

simon has gotten away with a lot of things ever since he married you. he's kept a respectful distance; gentle touches, affectionate ones, sure, but it's been easy to brush off the itch in the back of his head ever since he scratched it just enough when he kissed you for the first time.

when the itch becomes too severe, he's been able to hide away for a little while; running it out of his system working out, shaking it off in the field, drinking so it quiets when he makes his way to the pub.

but it's gotten a lot harder lately to pretend he doesn't see you for what you are.

a pretty girl.

he tells you that you're pretty all the time. in the mornings when you're still waking up. sitting at the counter as you watch him make sandwiches for lunch. pushing the cart in the aisle at the market, picking out the right cuts of meat or seeing which crisps you both can enjoy for movie night. and you are pretty all those times, all the time, in fact, and you were pretty when he kissed you, too.

but fuck. you're also...you're also so fucking pretty.

simon kicks off his boots at the front door, holding a few paper bags in his hands from his trip to the store. the weather has been getting warmer, summer creeping by (his most dreaded season since it forces him to take off layers he'd rather keep), and you had been begging simon for some sweet icy treats and a water fountain for the cat (it'll keep her from drinking out of your water glasses, simon).

when he steps into the kitchen, you're coming in from the backyard, flowers in your hands that the neighbor must have given you.

and you're wearing the cutest little white and red sundress (and suddenly he doesn't hate summer so much anymore).

it's got a cherry pattern on it and puffy sleeves. the bodice hugs you until the middle, where it fans out in a pillowy skirt, stopping just above your knees. there's a soft bow tied around the back, but simon really can't help himself from his eyes that narrow in on your figure and how incredible you look with the sunlight behind you.

"hi, simon," you coo, and simon glares, fucking tease. he has an inkling you don't even know what you're doing to him, you can't, not with that sweet little smile and the way you rock onto your toes. you even tied your hair up with a bow, and simon can't help but feel like you're his little gift, all wrapped up just for him.

one he wants to pluck, unravel until you reveal whatever you've been hiding underneath it all--

"oh! look it! oh, simon!" you giggle, grabbing the bag from him when you see the box that pokes out of it. you pull out a sweet, red ice lolly, cherry-flavored, and you lean up on your toes to give simon a big, wet kiss on his cheek before sucking it into your mouth. "mmm...thank you...just what i needed, it's so warm today."

bloody fuckin' christ.

your tongue is so pink. it's sliding up the edge of it until you suck it back into your mouth, and simon lets out the shakiest breath. it's unlike him, and you turn to face him fully when you notice the way he's staring at you. he looks good today, dark denim jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt that stretches around his big arms, and your eyes dart to his tattoo sleeve for just a moment before you smile back up at him.

"what?" you ask him gently. "you want some?"

instead of offering him his own lolly, you simply tilt yours in his direction. he huffs, letting out an irritated laugh before he leans forward a licks a fat stripe up the side of the cherry ice.

you smile a little as he does, and you don't even realize your gaze has dropped. you're eyeing the way his mouth moves, taking in the hinge of his jaw and the light stubble along it and the scar that stretches across his whole face that you kiss sometimes when he falls asleep before you.

he groans a little as he takes a bite of the lolly, and you seize at the sound, dropping the lolly into the sink on accident as you scramble to look up at him. you stare at each other, lidded brown eyes just piercing into your own. you're quiet for only a few more moments before you're throwing yourself at him.

he nearly slams you against the closest wall. your back hits it firmly, rattling the pictures that hang there, and you throw your arms around his neck as he kisses you feverishly. his hands slide down your waist to your lower back, and you stand on your toes, his palms cupping your ass before he picks you up with ease, guiding your plush thighs to wrap around his waist as he holds you there.

you don't know how long you kiss against the wall, but you're breathless when he pulls away. you chase him, kissing along his nose, his cheek, any of the skin that you can get, and simon grunts lowly, cradling the back of your neck.

"we shouldn't," he mutters.

"why not?" you whine, and he hisses, looking into your eyes, hungry, big man, struggling to keep himself away from you. but it isn't what you want, you want him to kiss you, you want more, more, more--

you stand back on your toes, pushing him backwards. simon follows you, his hands bunched around the skirt of your dress as you walk him further into the living room until the couch hits the back of his knees, and he sits with a heavy breath. you bend to go sit in his lap, and simon curses under his breath, leaning his head back against the couch as your cleavage crowds his line of sight.

"fuckin' christ, baby," simon says lowly, running a rough hand over his face. he grunts when you take a seat in his lap, stretching your knees to straddle him, and you cage him in with your arms as you guide his chin back down so you can kiss him. you slot your mouth over his, kissing him lazily, and when you press your chest against his, he breathes out heavily when he feels your pebbled nipples through your dress. "fuck--fuck, fuck--"

"not yet," you giggle between kisses, and simon groans audibly as he slips two big hands under your dress and grabs both sides of your ass, his fingertips slipping under the lace of your panties so he can get a warm feel of you. you sit yourself down deeper in his lap, and you pull away slowly when you feel him underneath you.

he blinks his eyes open slowly, and you tentatively sit a little more in his lap, your eyes widening a little when you feel him between your thighs.

holy fucking shit--

"jesus," you stutter, and he looks away from you, ears reddening, and you're quick to cup his cheeks to bring his eyes back to you. you smile a little, leaning in again, and you press your forehead to his before giving him the gentlest grind of your hips. "oh--simon--" you kiss him again, soft, whispering against his lips, "s-so...you're so--"

"mhm," he nods, and you move so your lips are against his ear, giving him a light kiss where his jaw and neck meet.

"i'd say you're too big for me," you sigh, closing your eyes, "but i'm a riley now." you giggle. "'n we can handle anything..can't we, simon?"

"shit--"

you squeak a little when he wraps a hand in your hair and tugs, pressing your pelvis to his as he ruts his hips up against yours. you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he chokes on his moans, big arms keeping you pressed to him as he pants into your mouth.

he stills, face a little scrunched up as he sits there with you. you keep kissing him lazily, exploring the way he tastes, licking over his teeth and bottom lip, up until he pushes you just that much away and groans in frustration.

your eyes open, and you giggle, and simon smooths his hands up the bodice of your dress, his eyes blown wide as he takes in how pretty you look in it. pretty little angel in his lap, a nice weight to ground him as he tries not to think about the mess he's made of himself.

"i assume you like the dress?" you ask, and when you laugh, simon can see the red on your tongue from the lolly. he knows if he kisses you again and sucks on your pretty tongue, you'll taste like that awful cherry, taste as sugar-sweet as you really are. simon leans back a little, propping you up on his thighs, shaking his head as he runs a big hand down his solid middle.

"well," simon mutters. "'aven't cum in my fuckin' pants since i was a bloody kid, so i'd say so."

"w-wha--! simon!"

you cover your eyes, overcome with shyness, with warmth, not believing really that anyone could you want that much. that anyone could really want you at all.

but when you laugh, he does, too.

[stoopidpigeonxx]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑶 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑴𝒚 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏. ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

CAPTAIN CURLY SMUT HEADCANNONS !! NSFW under the cut. MDNI.

(These are all completely random, not tied to any prompt. I just want more stuff about this guy cuz I love him) Fandom/characters: Mouthwashing, Captain Curly, other characters briefly mentioned.

Content warning: Smut (obviously), p in v, curlys packing, title kink, thigh-riding, face-sitting, size difference, manhandling, reader is AFAB, creampie, multiple rounds, riding, cursing, J*mmy.

-He's a grower, not a shower.

I firmly believe Curly is a distinguished gentleman, unlike J*mmy who would most likely brag about how big he is and end up only being like, 5 or 6 inches. Curly, however, will not mention his size until you see it for yourself. And when he sees your face, he panics. "Oh-shit, uh- i-is it gonna be too big for you? It's okay if it is, I should've warned you.."

He's four inches soft, uncut. I think he keeps himself decently groomed. He's not completely bare, but it isn't a forest. He's got a little v-line that's only visible when he wears sweatpants that you go absolutely feral over. When he gets hard, whoo boy. 9 inches, throbbing. He's got a cute little vein near his tip that you like to attack when you're sucking him off because it makes his thighs shake. He's got a little bit of a mushroom tip, maybe more rounded. Perfect for hitting all those good spots inside you. In short, he's big. (he tucks it, that's why he doesn't have a bulge in his sprites. Also I'm sorry trans-Curly headcannon people ;-;)

-"Need a seat? I'll volunteer."

VEEEEEERRRYYY into face-sitting. Very. Like, the first thing he wants when you guys get freaky is for you to sit on his face. He's not exactly sure why he likes it, to be honest, he just loves the feeling of you absolutely lose yourself on his tongue. He isn't worried about suffocating or anything, since he's a lot bigger than you, so don't be afraid to ride his face! he can handle it! But seriously, use this guy as a seat. He'd give you a few licks up your slit at first to warm you up (again, gentleman) before going for your clit. And when he gets it, he sucks. Hard. He'd also probably sneak a finger or two inside you to add extra stimulation, because he really wants you to come on his face. He desperately yearns for the sound of you screaming his name as your juices cover his face and tongue, letting you ride your orgasm out before lifting you off his face and setting you down. "Alright, sweet-stuff, my turn. On your knees, please."

-Save a Polle, ride his big ass thighs.

So... we've all seen his sprite. He's thick as fuck. He's got a booty and bigger tits than me. But he also has deliciously large thighs.. so use that to your advantage, because he's totally down with it. He likes using it as foreplay to get you wet enough to take him, and he just likes the feeling. He'll probably give himself a hand while you're doing it, or he'll just watch and leave the touching to you.

He isn't much for public sex, but if you're really horny, he'll let you get high on his thigh over his uniform and gently praise you when you come. It gives him a little buzz to be doing something like that in a risky situation, like while he's in the cockpit sitting at the control panel, or even in the commons of the ship with Daisuke in a few rooms away. When you do come, which isn't that long after, he'll kiss you all over your face and head and twirl your hair in his fingers, using his other hand to rub your ass or back.

"There you go, sweetheart, that's a good girl. Good job."

-Sir yes sir.

I know, I know. He gets called 'Captain' and 'Sir' for his job. But if its coming from you when he's balls deep in you.. It's an entirely different reaction.

"D-did.. you just call me- mgh..- Captain?"

It makes him ferociously horny to hear that title slip from your lips, so pray you'll still walk tomorrow. "Ooh, fuck, yeahhh. Call me that again, baby. Call me that again.. Uh-huh. Captain takin' care of this pretty lil' pussy, huh.."

He doesn't dirty talk that explicitly, but you calling him captain gets his creative juices flowing. Oh, also his come. Yeah..

Its also perfect teasing material. You two couldn't even be getting it on, you'd just sneak up behind him and kiss him on the cheek and say "Morning, Captain!" In that tone you know drives him wild. Boom, hard. Poor guy.

-Yeehaw!

favorite position? Cowgirl. For many reasons. One, he loves looking at your face while you ride his cock. The noises, the facial expressions you make, the way your tits bounce up and down with your hips.. He wishes it was a renaissance painting to look at every morning. He also just likes being able to hold you easily. When you're on his lap, its easier for him to snake a hand up and hold your hair out of your face, or to give your ass gentle love taps (he would never spank you, unless asked to). He's a very hands-on guy and wants to touch you, everywhere he can.

Of course, he doesn't mind the occasional doggy, or missionary, or hell, even a Full Nelson, because you KNOW he's able to hold you like that. Manhandling comes naturally with Curly. Gently, of course. He would never hurt you.

-Gets a little messy.

Curly's no one pump chump. He'll go for hours. Even if he's came inside you at least five times, he'll keep going. He's got hella impressive stamina. His motivation? Seeing your cunt leaking his seed when he pulls out. He wants you to still find it in your underwear 3 days later. No hole goes unfilled. He's not exactly a breeder, per-say, though he definitely wouldn't complain about getting you pregnant, he just likes seeing you in a state. He thinks of it as artwork, leaving you so stuffed to the brim. The next day, he'd pull you aside and give you a quick finger-orgasm, just to see if his come's still in there. When it leaks onto his fingers along with your own, he's a very happy man. "Ahh, look at that. Still got it in ya. Should fill you up even more later, hm?"

oof. my hands hurt. ;-;

[hees-mine]

Birthday girl - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, multiple orgasms, cursing, stepcest, daddy kink, dirty talk, cheating.

Genre: 18+, stepcest.

Word count: 2k+

Decided to just post the full story here cause it got taken down on Patreon :/

-

“Mom, just one, please. I promise it’ll only be one.” It was your 21st birthday, and you celebrated in the kitchen with your mom and your stepdad as you begged her to let you have your first shot on the day you officially turned 21.

“No, I never had a shot at 21,” she simply answers, turning away from you and putting away the leftover cake she had your stepdad buy from the store cause she apparently couldn’t be bothered to get one for you herself.

“Mom, come on, that’s not fair!” You whined. “I’m literally an adult,” you reasoned.

“And you’re literally under my roof,” she replies back nonchalantly like she always does. You hated it when she acted like this.

She would always hold things over your head: no sleepovers, no parties, no boyfriends, no nothing, and it’s not cause she was looking out for you. It’s cause she was jealous of you.

She always told you how she never got to have any of those things, and now you can’t shake the feeling that even though she never directly said it to you, you feel like she’s taking it out on her only daughter, which just isn’t fair.

“Dad!” You turned to heeseung your stepdad, looking for his approval, and he gave you the tiniest hint of a smile while folding his arms over his chest and resting against the kitchen counter.

You and your stepdad had a much better relationship than you and your mother, unlike her. He seemed to actually care about you, which is comical cause he wasn’t even your real dad, and he treated you better than your mom ever did.

He’d always vouch for you, defend you when arguments got too heated, and he never made you feel like you were always in the wrong, unlike your mother did.

His care for you did go a lot further than just how a stepdad would care for their stepchild because his hugs would last a couple of seconds too long. His kisses on the cheek were a little too affectionate, and he'd eye you when you wore revealing outfits a bit too much.

You didn't mind, though. You did it on purpose cause you liked the attention. He wasn't your real dad, and besides, you had met him so late in your life that you were already fully grown, and you didn't even see him as a father figure at all.

Dad never even crossed your mind when you thought about him. All you saw was a very attractive man, and you wondered how your strict, bitter mother landed a gem like him.

“You heard your mom.” he swipes the cake as your mom sets it in the fridge and licks the frosting off his fingertip, humming at the sweet taste. “Now go upstairs and get ready for bed, young lady.”

You rolled your eyes and did as he said. You thought he’d vouch for you this time, too, but apparently not.

Little did you know he had other plans up his sleeve. He only said no to you cause he was not about to start a fight with his wife over you taking one measly shot, especially since it was your birthday.

His wife always had a way of making things about her. Just cause she didn’t get a shot at 21. Why couldn’t you? If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his wife was jealous of her own daughter, and if he’s being honest, it was kinda getting on his nerves the way she’d bitch at you all the time for virtually nothing.

When he married her, she was not like that at all, but once he moved in and you all became family, the whole dynamic changed. She paid more attention to scolding you than him.

He wasn’t needy necessarily, but he did get lonely sometimes, especially in the bedroom, and heeseung noticed that you talked to him more than his own wife.

Which resulted in him developing maybe not a crush but a certain attraction to you, and to his luck, it was mutual between the two of you, considering all the shameless flirting you did back and forth.

At first, he felt a bit guilty, but with the way he was feeling in his marriage, he might as well have been single. He’s not excusing his actions, but he definitely doesn’t care or feel any shame in checking you out from head to toe on a daily basis.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t spill his load in his palm once or twice at the thought of you.

How could he not when you’d purposefully bend over in front of him pretending that you dropped something or the way you’d push your chest against his whenever you’d hug?

You had already gotten ready for bed, sulking a bit as you leaned against the bed frame, scrolling on your phone.

Heeseung had joined his wife upstairs, lying next to her and sharing a quiet goodnight before they turned off the bedside lamps.

It was always like this: completely silent, no conversation, no talking about the day, no intimacy, absolutely nothing.

Even if he did try to talk, she’d always say she was stressed or tired.

Another one of the reasons Heeseung didn’t feel guilty for having feelings toward you was that you gave him the time of day.

He sighs putting his hands behind his head and staring at the celling finally after an hour passed his wife was fast asleep so he silently slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen where the cupboard was located pulling out a bottle of liquor one he bought expressly for you cause you had been going on all week about wanting to take a shot on your 21st.

He snuck over to your room, knocking on it softly, knowing you’d still be up. You were always up late.

You sighed and got out of bed tossing your blanket to the side and ripping open the door ready to be faced with your mom and some more of her shenanigans. “Wha-“ you stopped mid-way through, shocked to see that it was actually your stepdad instead, and you were pleasantly surprised to see he was in nothing but his underwear and a shirt.

“Hey,” he laughs softly, waving a bottle of liquor in your face along with two shot glasses.

“H-hi,” you smile upon seeing the bottle.

“Are you gonna let me in? Or are you gonna wait for your mom to catch us?” He smirks and you open the door further to let him in.

He bites his lip when you turn around to walk to your bed, eyeing the way those tight little sleep shorts hug your ass.

“I thought you said no?” You pressed your knees to your chest, patting a spot on the bed for him to sit.

He shrugs and takes a seat a little too close to you, but you don’t mind. “Thought I might break the rules a little bit. After all, you are the birthday girl.” he clicks his tongue and winks at you, placing the shot glasses on the nightstand, popping the cap off, and pouring you a drink and one for himself as well.

Feeling daring now that you two are finally alone, you decide to take things a little further than just your usual flirting. “Thanks, Daddy.” You bite your lip to hide your smile as he turns to you with a wide grin on his face.

“Of course, babydoll.” he lifts his hand up to stroke his thumb along your jaw. “Can’t have you going to bed mad at me now, can we?”

“No, Daddy,” you whisper, leaning into the warmth of his palm, and he could already feel himself twitching in his boxers, your skin so soft under his fingertips, so Inviting.

He hands you your shot and takes his, clanking your glasses together. “To the birthday girl,” you smiled shyly and downed the shot in one go.

Your face contorted from its strong taste, your tongue burning in the aftermath, but the aftertaste that was left in your mouth was enough for you to want another one.

He sees the mischievous glint in your eyes and pours you one more. “Only one more pretty girl,” he smiles, giving you one last shot, and you down it. Something about the way your throat bobs and your lips wrap around the rim of the cup makes his lower region feel warm.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” he extends his hand to your thigh, rubbing his palm over it. Your legs relax under his touch, and you take your second shot before leaning back on the headboard, giving him more space to gently squeeze your thigh.

“Mmm,” you close your eyes as his other hand comes in contact with your right thigh, and now he’s kneading both with his strong hands going up higher and higher till his right thumb begins rubbing your clit over your shorts. “Daddy,” you whisper, rolling your hips against his fingers in desperation without an ounce of shame for being intimate with your mother’s husband.

His mouth parts open, shallow breaths escaping as he watches you succumb to pleasure. “That feels good, princess?” You nod, and he massages your clit some more, adding a bit of pressure as he circles the bud through your clothing. Your whole body heats up, and you can feel an orgasm building embarrassingly quickly inside you.

“Yes, please keep going,” you say breathlessly, your sensitive nipples hardening beneath your shirt, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you get closer.

“Gonna cum already, little one?” his words only push you closer, and he leans down to kiss your thigh. The softness of his lips tip you over the edge as you clamp around, nothing feeling your high being gently coaxed out of you.

“Oh god, Daddy, it feels so good.” You shudder and grip your bedsheets as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He rubs you through it until you come down and catch your breath. “You did so well, baby. Keep this between you and me, okay, sweetheart?” You nod, and he kisses your thigh again before capping the liquor and getting ready to make his exit, that is, until you grip his wrist to stop him.

“More,” he can’t help but smile, and he can’t say he didn’t want to do more cause the hard-on in his boxers was in need of immediate attention, but he tries to use his better judgment and say no.

“We shouldn-“

“Please, I’m so wet for you been thinking about you every day since we moved in” The admission makes his heart rate pick up and his cock throb in his underwear, and he’s too weak to resist you because like you, he has also been waiting that long to have you.

He sighs, putting the alcohol back down on the nightstand. “Just this once,” he says as if that somehow makes it better. You both know no matter what, it’s wrong, but you couldn’t care less. You just wanted him, so you would take any opportunity that presented itself.

You nodded immediately, and he stood up, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down his hard cock, flopping out thick and veiny for your eyes to feast on. You feel drool pool in your mouth from the sight, and the little bead of precum dripping off his tip was just the cherry on top. You wanted to feel him on your tongue badly.

His clothing falls around his ankles, and he climbs on the bed, hovering above you, his breath heavy with anticipation.

He grabs your shorts using his toned bicep muscles to easily yank your shorts down all the way. “So pretty and wet for me” he eyes your slick pussy and grabs hold of his thick base, guiding his tip between your soaked folds.

His breath stutters as he moves his hips forward and back, coating his thick shaft in your arousal. “Fuck” he twitches in excitement. You feel so warm and wet, and he’s not even inside you yet.

“Daddy,” you whimper desperately, and he knows exactly what you want by the tone of your voice, so he doesn’t want to tease you any longer.

“Don’t worry, sweets. Daddy’s got you.” he guides your hands around his waist, and you dig into the flesh, making him hiss with pain and pleasure.

He nudged the head on your entrance and pulled back a thin, clear string of arousal connecting you and bringing you back together as he pushed the thick tip inside your warm walls.

You wince slightly from the feeling of him stretching you out. Just his tip felt like heaven already, and you couldn’t help the way you squeezed so tightly around him. “Daddy,” you moan out, throwing your head back into the pillows as you gasped for air.

“Shit, there you go,” he grits through his teeth. “Take it in, princess. Take it like daddy’s good little girl” Your walls tighten around his tip, sucking him in even deeper. “You feel so good squeezing on your daddy’s cock. Your little pussy is so wet and warm” his hot breath blows against your face from the close proximity.

Pushing up your shirt, he reveals your chest, his big veiny hands kneading on your soft breasts that you put on display for him so many times, and now he finally got to see them up close and feel them.

Felt so much better than his imagination could ever even think of.

“You’re so big, Daddy,” you breathe out, taking all that he’s giving you obediently or maybe not so obediently cause you couldn’t help but grind down on his dick, forcing him to go in deeper.

His breath gets caught in his throat as your hole swallows him up, and he can’t help but thrust faster, your slick hole getting creamier by the second. “Fuck” his eyes roll back in his head, and he sticks his dick in you even further, watching as your pretty little face contorted in so much pleasure from being filled by his inches. “You’re taking my cock so deep, pretty girl. I’m all the way inside,” he whines, feeling your tight entrance rubbing along his tip, and it sets him off quicker than he’d like to admit. “Daddy’s gonna cum baby”

“Yes, Daddy, please cum all over me” he cups your face holding onto your cheek as you look at him with big round pleading eyes. Your words make him thrust his hips faster, his clammy skin smacking against your own, only adding to the pleasure as he fucks into your silky cunt so deep that his tip bumps your cervix and your breast jiggle with every harsh rut of his hips.

Feeling his high approaching, he lowers his hand to fondle your delicate clit to bring you to the point of no return alongside him.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!” Your body tenses at his actions, your walls clamping down on him tightly as your cunt creams around his cock, the tightness of your pussy feeling heavenly on his throbbing dick.

He lets out a lewd moan and quickly pulls his dick out, hot spurts of cum shooting all over your lower stomach. “Oh fuck fuck” he curses, watching as his dick throbs and paints you in his milky white cum.

You’re both moaning in pleasure as he rubs his cock against your stomach, releasing every last drop of cum on your pretty smooth skin. You both pant heavily while he empties himself completely.

You can’t help but swipe your finger in the puddle of warm cum and hold it to your tongue, sucking off the sticky remnants of his orgasm and savoring his taste.

“Daddy’s good girl,” he smiles in satisfaction, bending down and giving you a short but deep kiss on the lips before he gets up, and you miss his warmth already as he slips back into his boxers.

You watch him disappear into the bathroom and come back with something to clean you up.

He does it ever so gently, eyes full of care and concern, and once he’s finished, he helps you into your clothes and tucks you in for the night. “Happy birthday, baby. Daddy loves you.” he pecked your forehead, your eyes feeling heavy after those two unbelievable orgasms he gave to you.

“Love you too daddy” he smiles softly and takes the liquor and shot glasses heading to the door he took one last look at you puckering his lips and making a kissing noise you giggle and hide your face with the covers before he leaves. “Night, birthday girl,” he whispers to you.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” that’s all you remember before your eyelids fall shut. There’s a faint, satisfied smile on your face as you slip into slumber. This was the best birthday ever, all thanks to your stepdad.

-

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[luvly-writer]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: So originally, this was supposed to be only ONE shot...but I suck at making those so it will be a TWO shot. I am writing the second one right now as well so it will be posted at the same time.

Warnings: Neglectful family, long chapter

Part 2 // Part 3

---

These walls suffocated you. They truly did.

At first, when your mother had announced that Damian, your twin brother, and you would be leaving your home to live with your father, you were kind of excited. As much as Nanda Parbat was a home to you, you were excited to see the world, and finally feel free. Being the "spare twin" certainly allowed you to have more freedom than Damian growing up. Both of you were trained exactly the same way, yet, whilst your grandfather prefer to hone your brother's skill in other areas, you had the flexibility of running around and doing as you went. But no bird is truly free if they still live in a cage. So...

You were excited and that excitement lasted precisely two weeks. Damian and you had been close all your life, being twins kind of facilitated that. You trained together, ate together, read together, you spent the majority of your life together. You had each other's back; he was your solace and companion, your best friend. No one else in the world would ever get you like him. That's part of the reason Talia sent both of you. Growing up, no one could ever separate the two of you, not even your grandfather....well, that was until a certain Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne entered your lives.

Unlike your twin, you had no interest in being part of the vigilante business. It was well known that both of you were different in your character. Where Damian was brash, you were softer; he was ruthless, you were diplomatic; he was violent and cunning, you were elegant and merciful. That distinction was what made your grandfather direct Damian to be the heir of the Demon head. You were glad that you were away from the League as it would help you create an identity that didn't directly come from them and that became a problem.

Sure, it was two that came to stay at Wayne Manor, but only one was integrated into the family. It was disappointing, to say the least. Bruce favored Damian and whenever you tried to call him out on it, he'd blame it on the fact that Damian needed more help. As if it wasn't the two of you that came from the same place. Sure, you were tame and gentle, but you were just as Damian. The League didn't train an assassin and a princess. No, they had honed two weapons. Dick followed Bruce in that same thought process and it got even worst once he had to fill in as Batman temporarily. As much as he clashed heads with Damian, Tim enjoyed going par to par with his new brother. Jason knew both of them back when he was resurrected. You loved him as if he were your brother as well and you thought that it was reciprocated...until you roamed the halls of the manor and realized he never joked around with you the same way he did with Damian. You wanted to blame it on the fact that they were boys and maybe that got them to get along better...but it wasn't just that was it...Cassandra loved to bond with Damian because they were both child assassins but so! were! You! Stephanie loved to ruffle his hair and call him Little Bat, and Barbara would sit and try to explain modern terminology with him and laugh when he found it absurd. It didn't make sense.

Both of you went through the same thing, yet you had to understand why he needed more help and attention and love than you. It devastated you. You had read online that it was good to find healthy outlets to let out your frustrations, so you decided to find extracurriculars. Maybe if you required attention, it would be given to you, right? I mean, Robin was Damian's extracurricular in a way, right?

You took up ice skating. You found beauty in the sport and given that you had training, you were excelling at it. Given that your father was a busy man, he was never one to take you to practice. He just paid for the coach, the team, the skates, the outfits, and all the fees necessary. Alfred, may he be blessed, was your solace and would often be found taking you to practices and would stay for support. You had great potential for someone of such a young age and your coaches would never fail to remind you. Your first competition came and you were through the roof with excitement. You would talk Damian's ear off, who always made time for you regardless of what was happening around the house. You would mention it in passing to anyone who would engage in even the smallest of conversations with you. You went as far as printing the competition flyers and sticking them on Bruce's desk, the Batcomputer, and the fridge. Surely, no one would forget.

Oh, you poor thing...no one came besides Alfred. Damian and Bruce had some sort of mission; Dick was in Bludhaven; Jason was too busy with the Outlaws, Tim had a Wayne Enterprise meeting, Barbara had made plans that day with Stephanie and Cass and they couldn't be changed. Had they not heard you? Did they not see the flyers? The only one had the decency to apologize was Damian, but he was your brother, your twin, of course, he didn't mean to miss it. You had won gold and your teammates had invited you to eat out. When you ran all the way to where your family was supposed to be, you only saw Alfred with a beautiful flower bouquet.

Having seen your disappointed face, he quickly made a mental note to scold everyone later tonight and tried to cheer you up.

"Marvelous, miss Y/n! Simply wonderful. I don't think I had ever been delighted by such a choreography before" He praised and you took it to heart, giving him a smile. That night he allowed you to stay later, having one of your teammate's mother bring you back from the restaurant.

This didn't change over time. Competitions and practices with Alfred only. After that first competition, Damian would try to at least go to your practices but that lessened as time passed and he was needed as Robin. Forgotten competitions turned to forgotten birthdays it seemed. After a year, when your birthday came around, you were ecstatic knowing that your favorite day of the year and you would celebrate it with your favorite person in the whole world. That day, your friend's parents had asked Alfred if they could surprise you in the morning with something special and then leave you in the Manor during the afternoon so that you would have time with your family. Seeing how loved you were outside of your family, Alfred agreed.

You were positive that your day was going to be perfect. Damian had woken you up and you both exchanged gifts first thing in the morning, just like you did in the League. He had gotten you a new pair of skates and you had gotten him a bunch of new art supplies. You ate breakfast with Damian and forced Alfred to sit with you both and eat as well. You went along with your day, having Alfred tell you that you had a special surprise. He had taken you to the park where your friends and their parents awaited you with a surprise picnic. Soon the afternoon neared and you were in the limo telling Alfred about the wonderful morning you were having. To into in your story, you failed to see his worried and pitiful gaze. As you went into the Manor, hands full of gifts from your friends and cheeks hurting from laughing and smiling so much, you were met with a sight that broke your heart.

Damian blowing the candles of a cake with your entire family surrounding him, clapping and singing. Your face, just like your heart, fell. You look up at Alfred and whisper, "Did you know?"

To which he responded in a soft voice, "No, my dear, I was helping your friends plan your party. The bake, I did do, but I thought we would wait for you..."

With eyes glazed with unshed tears, you nodded and it took seeing Damian's small smile as Dick bearhugged him to know...you weren't part of them.

You had begun to separate yourself from them and Damian had noticed. He had tried to apologize for your birthdays but you wouldn't listen. What kind of person would forget their twin? After some time, he stopped trying. The ridge between you had started to grow and if you were being stubborn, he wouldn't waste his time.

---

Weeks passed. Months passed. And little old Y/n had been forgotten. Dick was always too busy and only knew how to say "Not now, kid." Jason would wave to you on occasion. You weren't sure if Tim was even aware that you still lived there. Cass only spared you a glance. Stephanie looked pained if you ever tried to talk to her. Barbara was too awkward around you. Bruce had never really tried much with you and that was clear from the start. Damian felt distant each day more and more. Your only solace was ice skating, Alfred, and your mom. Weeks after your birthday, you had sneaked out and contacted your mother. She arrived as soon as she could. She would never deny her baby girl. I mean, the world always wanted Damian, but she, she was hers. There, Y/n told her everything as she broke down into tears. She had been the perfect daughter and sister, yet it would never matter cause they didn't care. Talia, clearly bothered by this, promised to talk with Bruce and Damian yet Y/n reassured her that Alfred had tried so many times and it had never worked. With the promise of finding a solution that didn't involve Bruce or Damian, her mother left.

After a few weeks, Y/n would notice that the watching eyes of her mother would be on her during practice and competitions. It was good to have one parent there. She wouldn't be able to attend most of the time, but she made an effort. Alfred caught her once when she was giving you flowers and Y/n begged for him to keep it a secret.

It was good to have something.

---

Years passed. Birthdays were spent having breakfast with Alfred, avoiding her twin, out with her friends, and occasionally, sneaking out to see her mother. Y/n wasn't heartless, though. Every year she would sneak a present that normally came from her and their mother into Damian's room. He was still her beloved twin after all. She had gotten used to competitions with little company. Even when she had won an award for being a prodigious skater, it was Alfred, the flowers he had bought her, and the ones her mother had sneaked into her house. She was fine, she claimed. Being ignored and forgotten didn't sting her heart as much as it did before, and she definitely didn't cry every time one of her siblings passed by her and acted as if they bumped into a piece of furniture. Hearing Damian refer to Cassandra as sister and only call her by her name didn't shatter her heart, no it only made her so unfocused in practice that she fell in the middle of her choreography. Coming back home after a day with her friends and seeing all of the decorations for Damian's birthday didn't slowly kill her on the inside anymore, no she just played music super loud when she took showers so no one would hear her sobs.

The breaking point? Duke Thomas.

She didn't have something against him directly, no. It was his arrival. Seeing her supposed family, her twin, welcome him with open arms broke her absolutely. Seeing them dine with him, joke around with him, smile with him, celebrate with him, and love him shattered her. It had been five years of this torment and she couldn't bear it anymore. So...she made a call.

"Mother....I think I want to go home.."

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

[tizeline]

So, when Leo's around 10-ish, he accidentally stumbles accross a box filled with a bunch of Lou Jitsu movies (there's even some merch in there!) Which confuses him, considering Draxum had banned anything Lou Jitsu related in their household. He'd shown them some footage from Lou's Battle Nexus fights for research purposes, but his movies were appearently "nothing but human propaganda" so they were strictly off limits..... so why did Draxum even have these?

Leo knew that he'd definitely get in trouble if he watched them and his dad found out but.... if this is the guy who appearently kidnapped his Long Lost Brother, then he should know more about him, right? If Leo was gonna save the softshell from the evil clutches of Lou Jitsu one day, he needs to prepare. So he decides to watch the movies, y'know, for research purposes.

So he does that and uh-

Okay, so in this AU, Leo is a HUGE Lou Jitsu fanboy, and he hates himself for it. Cuz on one hand, he's clearly evil and responsible for taking his softshell brother away from them, but DAMMIT he's just so cool! And Leo appearently has this guy's DNA!? How awesome is that!?

He manages to hide his Lou Jitsu obsession from his family, and being introduced to his movies led to Leo seeking out other human media as well. There are a couple of different reasons why Leo is the first to go against Draxums evil plan and one of those is that, unlike his brothers, Leo is quite familiar with human society and culture. Him being able to teleport also leads to him sneaking to the surface sometimes find out more about humans. All of this leads him to eventually realize that humans really aren't that different from yokai, uh oh, are we the baddies?

[pomefioredove]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do the Dormleaders' reactions to Yuu who, given that they're from another world, is immune to any and all magic spells.

Example: Riddle's 'Off With Your Head' doesn't make a collar on their neck, 'King's Roar' doesn't affect them at all, 'It's A Deal' doesn't take anything from Yuu and acts like any ordinary contract, etc.

However, this means any healing spells has no effect, forcing Yuu to heal on their own.

Thank you for reading this!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ magic immune reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

out of all the dorm leaders, Riddle would be the most annoyed

...not that 'Off With Your Head' would've done much, anyway

you have no magic to take away

but... it's the meaning!

it's symbolic!

even a plain old collar would be punishment enough

but he can't even do that!

hopefully, you're not the type to misbehave, so he won't have to worry about it

if you are...

...expect to spend a lot of your week trimming the hedges around Heartslabyul as punishment

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona doesn't even know until his overblot

...well...

until after his overblot

everyone keeps going on about how lucky you are

(personally, he doesn't see what's so great about being magic-repellent, but sure)

he's... glad you're okay

not that he'd ever admit that...

just don't let it get to your head, alright?

being immune to magic means both bad and good spells

and he's not going to be sanding you again anytime soon

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul is PISSSSSED lmao

all that work he's put into his latest business venture

and for what??

you're not even BOUND by his contracts!

he has a hard time saying goodbye to Ramshackle...

what a nice cafe it would have made...

but, still

there's got to be some way he can use this to his advantage

he's an adaptable man

and he's always looking for a new assistant

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim is only a little disappointed

first, you can't even cast a spell

now you can't have any cast on you?

you're missing out on all his great party tricks!!!

but... oh, well

he thinks of it as an adventure, or a fun challenge

magicless parties sound kinda cool, right?

and Jamil says it's probably for the better, and Kalim trusts his judgment

(...for now, at least, cough cough)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

not counting the... VDC incident, Vil doesn't care

unlike your annoying friends, he has no reason to curse you

and he can certainly think of many magicless punishments should you ever misbehave

so, no

not really something that crosses his mind

even when you're unwell (because, of course, he's the first to tend to you), he prefers using natural remedies before magical ones

to him, it's just another piece of the strange puzzle that is you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

honestly what is Idia going to do

open the gates of hell on you?

nah

even boring spells would be too much effort for a guy like him

he does find you kinda interesting, though

I mean, being immune to magic in this place is a total buff!

imagine a group of NPCs firing magic at you, and you're like, wham! whew! zoooom!

...in his own words, anyway

(it's not actually that cool)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Malleus...

where do I even start?

he's so reliant using magic that he can almost sense there's something different about you right away

one on hand, it's a good thing

he worries about you, you know? the students at this school can get... unruly

on the other hand, knowing that you won't respond to magical healing is... worrying

he tries not to think about it so much

his overblot is a different story, though

if he can't put you to sleep, what can he do? trap you at NRC with him forever?

actually... I take it back, he'd totally do that