#i feel like i go in cycles

[hekateinhell]

Vamptember, Day 23

Armand/Daniel | Rating: E | Prompt: College AU | Word Count: 1.2k

PWP/College AU only in that it's Devil's Minion era and Armand's in a cheerleader outfit. Canon-compliant smut. That's it. This is from when I was taking Vamptember prompt requests (not that I would've needed an excuse to get here eventually).

[READ HERE OR ON AO3]

Meet me at the corner of King Street & 6th Avenue. Eight o' clock. I know you will be awake before then. — A

Well, fucking good for him. Good for him for knowing Daniel's sleep patterns better than Daniel knows them himself.

It's 7:32pm on the dot when he’s sitting up on the rumpled sheets, glancing over Armand's note, then staggering to the shower. Decides to humor his demon familiar tonight.

Why not? He's in a decent mood, and a night out with Armand promises to be exciting, if nothing else.

Showered, shaven, and decent (by Daniel's standards anyway; Armand might beg to differ), he makes it to King and 6th with precisely five minutes to spare. Turns out he's just in time, if the red BMW screeching to a stop right by the curb was anything to go by.

"Get in," Armand's voice commands him through the rolled-down window.

"Yes, sir."

Peels away before Daniel even has a chance to shut the door properly. "Jesus Christ, what's the goddamn hurry?"

The usual indulgent smile and a languid wave of a hand is his only answer. "Seatbelt, beloved. I really would prefer it if you did not get hurt tonight."

"I want to get hurt tonight," he counters, snapping the buckle into place.

Armand's in exceptionally good spirits as well, he laughs out loud. An impish, human laugh; made all the more real by the ruddiness of his cheeks, the red tint of his lips, the heat Daniel can practically feel radiating off him.

Delicious.

"My masochistic lover," he murmurs, so low Daniel almost doesn't hear it, but Armand's still smiling. Getting away from the hustle and bustle of downtown, the streetlamps and traffic lights illuminating them in flashes as Armand barreled through, braking harshly when needed.

Daniel looks him over for clues as to where they're going, wondering what might be in store between now and 6am. Armand's hair has been left in its usual angel's mane tonight except for the bangs that are curled to his eyebrows in an artificial sort of way, the rest pulled back loosely to the nap of his neck and fastened with a dark blue ribbon. Recreating an old style, perhaps?

Oh, you might say that.

The sparkle in his dark eyes is playful, teasing, but Daniel doesn't have time to think about it before they're turning into a parking building, Armand looping around five flights with reckless speed before abruptly pulling into a corner spot.

Kills the engine, and Daniel hasn't even fully grasped the handle to exit before Armand reaches for his sleeve. "You're not going anywhere."

He opens his mouth to ask the obvious question before his brain, and other parts, catch on to the blatant seductiveness in Armand's honeyed voice, the uncharacteristically coy downward turn of his lashes.

A different question then—because under this lighting, having finally gotten the full visual—Daniel is starting to glean an idea of why Armand brought him here.

"I saw it in your mind, if you recall, your memory?" Armand's answering before he even strings the words together.

Of course, Daniel remembers.

Armand’s hair spread out over his lap, his large doll-eyes mixing with the alcohol in Daniel’s system, and suddenly he’s sixteen again—another beautiful red-head, bouncing up and down in his lap in the back of his dad’s ‘69 Chevy. 

"And that's why...?" He leans over, daring and impatient tonight, to grab at Armand's waist, bunching up the pleated fabric.

"I saw it in a film. Your cheerleaders and their outfits."

It's entirely possible that's the first time in his life Armand's ever said the word cheerleader, from the way he enunciates it. "And your girl in your head... she was a cheerleader, yes? Why else would she dress this way?"

Sounds like he genuinely wants to know, but Daniel's heard enough, more than. Doesn't know how far Armand will let him go, with this, in a fucking BMW, but he's willing to find out. Alternately fumbles beneath the varsity sweater and the little skirt while nipping Armand's lips.

Warm, too warm, feverish.

"Backseat, gotta get in the back," panting like he's a horny sixteen-year-old about to blow a load in his jeans in front of a pretty girl. Again.

My, my, how crude, Daniel.

But to his surprise, Armand dips much too quickly and easily onto the backseat; the absolutely filthy grin on his face at odds with the innocent, girlish image he's pieced together as he waits for Daniel to catch up.

"I think you like crude," Daniel whispers as he climbs in after him, albeit much less gracefully.

It's a roomy vehicle, and thank God for that because he hasn't even fully landed on the cushions before Armand's glassy nails are pressing into the skin of his hipbones as he yanks Daniel's pants off, and then his underwear, flinging them into the passenger seat.

Laps up the little beads of blood his talons left behind, stopping to suckle at the spot right over Daniel's pelvic bone. Oh, it's sinful how sweet and demure Armand makes himself appear right as he lowers his head to take him into the wet, hot clutch of his mouth.

Every motion exaggerated, sloppier and wetter than need be, while Armand stares up at him from his cramped position on the car carpets.

Entertaining the very notion of submission as he lets Daniel twist his fingers through his curls, tugging at them harshly to hold him in place. Oh god, oh fuck, fuck, fuck... he never lasts long with Armand, how can he? Could you?

Where, Daniel?

"What?" He manages to gasp out as Armand's powerful hands come to gently pin down his hips, stopping his thrusts and shattering the illusion.

Daniel still has his hands full of his hair though, and Armand allows him to lift him up off his cock and pull him over his lap as if he were a limp, pliant thing.

"You heard me, darling," Armand purrs in his ear, straddling him now so that the short skirt slides to cover Daniel's cock as well, the swollen head pressing against Armand's inner thigh and a much rougher seam of fabric.

Where would you like to finish?

That question, combined with a quick bite to his earlobe, is almost enough to make the decision for him right then and there.

"Could I...? Could you...?"

He's trying to get Armand's underwear off—something white and cotton dotted with tiny blue flowers, oh dear god—at the same he's trying to spread his ass cheeks apart. Obviously, it not working. "Armand, please..." Desperate, and Armand knows it.

Swears Armand fucking giggles as he turns his head to drag his tongue over Daniel’s cheek while he makes quick work of the offending article. He curls up and tucks his head under his chin as he spreads his legs once more, taking him in hand and rubbing his cock against his hole, catching it on the rim.

There's more than enough precum that it's slippery, easy for Daniel to just barely push through. And apparently, that's all he needs before he's groaning, arms constricting tight around Armand's waist over where the pale skin peeks through between the skirt and the sweater—as if Daniel could hope to contain him, as if he had the strength to pull Armand down hard enough to make him take every last drop of semen into his body.

The lingering kisses to his throat slowly draw him back to reality, and reality is the sweaty leather seats of a BMW in a parking structure by the Hudson pier. He pets Armand's head softly, a silent thank you.

Feels a smirk curving up against his skin before sharp teeth sink in; sudden pain followed a throbbing warmth.

Go, Team.

[asaethiel]

horror movie twins/gansey's magicians/etc

[uncanny-tranny]

Whenever people who are entrenched in diet culture talk about how terrible chemicals are, I just want to whip out this:

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

there is something so so so Appealing about angry/irritated Barnaby. it scratches an itch in my brain. somethin somethin comic relief characters getting to break their mold and be outwardly unhappy

[skeletoninthemelonland]

"The Exocannis Ressurection"

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

SET SIX - ROUND ONE - MATCH THREE

"Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate" (1997 - John Boskovich) / "Untitled" (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)" (1991 - Félix González-Torres)

ELECTRIC FAN (FEEL IT MOTHERFUCKERS): it makes me literally insane that’s all that’s left of him and he made sure it would stay remembered, something something the last trace of a breath immortalized the only way it could be. Feel it, motherfuckers. (courfeyracs-swordcane) (also submitted by callixton and weeweewhirlwind)

UNTITLED (PORTRAIT OF ROSS IN L.A.): It fucks me up SO MUCH. The artist's partner was named Ross, and died of AIDS in the same year this was created. The ideal weight is roughly the average of an adult man. The allegory there... people taking the candy, decreasing the weight, the same way people took away from Ross and every other victim of the AIDS crisis by refusing to help, to do anything at all. Except this has an "endless supply" of candy. People can take and take and it keeps coming back. They can't get rid of us forever. We will prevail and we will rebuild and I WILL be fucked up about this forever (ceaseless-rambler)

("Electric Fan (Feel It Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate" is an electric fan encased in plexiglass with vinyl faux etching and a plexiglass base with casters by gay American artist John Boskovich--Stephen Earanbino's partner. It was the last item left in Stephen Earabino's estate after his death by AIDS and measures 56 7/8 x 22 3/4 x 12 1/2 in. (144.5 x 57.8 x 31.8 cm). It is held by The Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles.

"Untitled (Portrait of Ross in LA)" is a modern art installation consisting of wrapped candies (constantly removed and replaced) by gay Cuban-American artist Félix González-Torres after the death of his partner, Ross, by AIDS. The weight is equivalent to a healthy human male - approximately 175 lbs (79kg). It is located at the Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago.)

[infiniteorangethethird]

ik the common agreement in neurodivergent circles seems to be that we all function better at night but here's to the ones who are on the opposite end of the spectrum. To the early birds who wake at 7 and can't stay up past 10pm. To the ones who are left out of almost every social event bc everything seems to be happening after 8 but you're normally in bed by that point. To the ones who are made fun of bc "only little kids go to bed that early". To the ones who, even if they wanted to, can never seem to find their place among others bc of society's expectation that the real fun only begins after midnight. I see you, I feel you, and I wish you a very same

[maskedchip]

ryuu doodle dump :]

[front-facing-pokemon]

[persephoneist]

what if a guy was at sea for 10 years. would that be fucked up or what

Notes under the cut

odysseus has very small/beady eyes and a persistent smile, even when he's being serious

wavy hair to look like the waves of the sea, has gray at the temples that looks like sea foam

scar on his cheek is actually from his late adolescence/time in Sparta, not the war

Penelope has blue-green eyes like the sea.

earrings are made to look like loom weights

the diadem is actually odysseus/laertes', not her own

theyre actually the same height, odysseus is very physically unassuming

[enby-opera]

OH SHE IS FERAL ART GIRLIE

I’m so proud of her like look how happy she is 🥹🥹

And beem looks so proud of her too 🥹🥹🥹

[variksel]

taking a DEEP BREATH yeah but have you considered that taylor broke the cycle in the exact way than his friends did, through love, and his character development might have been more subtle yeah but it was still extremely there and taylors ending was SUCH a good addition to the message at the core of season 2 because it says "hey your parents fucked up and YOU DONT HAVE TO FORGIVE THEM"

taylors character development was realizing that his dad FUCKED UP massively. and maybe he had justified reasons for it, even. just like the other dads, he had reasons for why he did what he did. but that doesnt erase the fact that it was fucked up, and that nicky hurt taylor, and that the damage is irreversible. and taylor doesnt have to forgive that, he doesnt have to put up with it.

i think its so good and important that linc and norm for example forgave their dads and love them at the end of all of s2. they chose their fucked up dads and they broke the cycle of fucking up, but its equally as important that taylor did that too by choosing to NOT forgive his dad. and at the end of the day he broke it by choosing love, by seeing who his dad really is and choosing to love his mom who was always there for him instead of the deadbeat with good intentions

"this is as good as it gets." and for taylor, that wasnt good enough

[girlboyburger]

wish i had a consistent character to show for this, but since i don't i just used icons :0]

blank template for those that want it under the cut

[communistkenobi]

I’ve started saying le epic to myself recently. what do we think the over under is on rage comic lingo being ironically revived. probably another five years at least right

[lemongogo]

little ch.19 ww redraw or smth

[iightwoodbane]

opal accepting adam's watch without hesitation after rejecting aurora's rose.......the implications of this are insane