#inspiration hit me like a god damn brick

[witches-and-devils]

Okay you guys, I know it's late, but how would ya'll feel about me participating in Kinktober with these complicated men?

[ifonlyitwasmidnight]

What happens when you catch your fiancé flirting with another girl? Hate sex, of course.

WC: 1,618

AFAB Reader CW: Angst, no real comfort at the end, Pet name (sweetheart), Rough sex, fingers (f. receiving), slapping (m. receiving), gaslighting (if you squint), choking (m. receiving), self-edging, unprotected sex. I proofread it for, like, two seconds.

Minors, don't click it. 18+ ONLY

Today's inspiration? Katsuki "no-one-will-fuck-you-like-i-can" Bakugou.

As always, full list of boyfriends I think fits at the end.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Each bag you shoved full of clothes was ripped from your hands and emptied onto the floor. Every time you walked through a door to grab things from another room, you had to shove past the body blocking your way. He was bigger than you, but you were madder.

He grabbed your arms, willing you to "just stop and talk to me like an adult for five god damned minutes!"

"An adult? Were you acting like an adult when you let that girl hang all over you in front of your fiancé and then called that same fiancé a bitch loud enough for everyone to hear when you got called out? Seems pretty fucking childish to me, babe." You spat the nickname at him, ire dripping off every word.

The ring he had given you two years ago, the one he had spent months picking out that you never seemed to take off unless you absolutely had to, was suddenly flying at his face. He grabbed it out of the air before it could connect.

Fuck him and his fast reflexes. You wish it would have hit him, at least a little.

"Could you just calm the fuck down and stop actin' like a—" He started.

"You think about how you're going to finish that sentence, or I swear to —"

"To what, sweetheart? Swear to what?"

Your fist balled at your side. He stood across the living room from you, blocking your way into the back of the house you had shared for the past four years. The house you had built together. Trinkets and hanging pictures evidence of the life you had bled into the foundation of brick and wood to make it home.

The life you had built together, all the days spent learning each other, each and every stupid inside joke and promise hung between you, weighing the air down and charging it full of mutual anger and grief.

His eyes simmered with thinly veiled anger, fingers tapping against his leg as he watched you. Not as a predator would observe prey. Your fiancé knew you better than that. He knew the way you would rip and tear at whatever got in your way. He knew how hot your anger burned under the surface of your skin and how it fueled you forward, looking for that high from a fight.

He held up the fist that clasped your ring, "Want it back?" He teased.

"Go fuck yourself," you said. You knew you shouldn't have walked near him, shouldn't have given him another chance to put his hands on you and pull you back into his embrace.

You shoved your way under his arm and a few steps beyond before his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back to him. You whirled into the pull, your open palm connecting with his cheek, snapping his head to the side.

The sound of the smack echoed off the walls in the hallway was met only with the panting of both your breaths.

He licked the inside of his cheek, the slight tang of copper on his tongue as he slowly turned his gaze back to you. You couldn't help the grim smirk of satisfaction that grazed your lips.

A muscle clenched in your fiancé's jaw, working overtime as he drew in a deep breath through his nose, the air hissing out between his teeth.

The faint thud of your ring dropping to the ground was your only warning.

One of his hands tangled in the hair at the base of your skull and gripped tightly. You yelped as he yanked your head back and slammed his lips against yours, his tongue bullying its way between your lips, fighting for dominance over each other. He pushed you back against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs at the force he used to get you there.

Your hands flew to his shirt, thankful for once that he was wearing a stupid button-down, and pulled. The buttons popped off, hitting against the walls and the floor, the material pooling at your feet when you finally pushed it off his shoulders. You ripped your lips away from his, gasping for breath and hissing between your teeth as his lips met your jaw and kissed your neck, biting hard as he went.

He groaned against your skin as you dug your sharp nails into his hips and pulled tightly, flushing your bodies together. He slipped a leg between your thighs until his knee hit the wall and pushed up hard, forcing you onto your tiptoes.

A loud moan tumbled from his panting lips as you slid your nails up his ribcage, angry red welts quickly forming.

"You sadistic bitch," he laughed.

"You masochistic fuck," you responded, nipping at his jaw.

"So fuckin' glad you decided to wear this stupid little dress today," his hands were rough as they gripped you under the thighs and lifted you, slamming you back against the wall.

"Dick!" You gasped.

"Shut up," he growled as he snaked a hand between your bodies, pulled your panties to the side, and quickly shoved two fingers deep into your soaked cunt.

He was unforgiving in his pace, not caring to give you even a moment before his fingers were scissoring open and curling into your g-spot, the pleasure rising too quickly. Your chest was rising and falling, moans and whimpers falling from your lips urged him on, rushing you towards that cosmic abyss of an orgasm. Your legs trembled around his waist as you tried to hold back, refusing to let him make you cum this quickly.

"Gonn' be like that, baby?" He hissed in your ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth and biting down, "gonn' make me work that sweet cunt, huh? You know it would never be the same with anyone else."

"Fuuck," you groaned as the heel of his palm applied pressure to your neglected clit, "Yeah, just like no one would be able to suck your cock the way I do." You felt yourself clamp down on his fingers and shuttered at the way your orgasm tried to bully its way from you.

His fingers retreated from you, twisting in the material of your panties and pulling tightly, ripping them at the middle. You lurched forward, kissing and sucking on his neck as he undid his belt with one hand, the metal clinking together loudly. His cock was painfully hard and leaking by the time he pulled it from his briefs, pushing the material down below his balls before slamming himself into you.

He placed his hands on the wall, letting his arms carry your weight by settling the backs of your knees into the crooks of his elbows, allowing him to angle your hips up just enough that with each punishing thrust, he would drag along you perfectly. Filling you to the point where you could fill him in the back of your throat each time.

"Eyes, baby," he panted, his teeth gritting, "need to see you."

You lifted your eyes from where you were looking between your bodies, watching as his cock sank in and out of you and held his gaze. His pupils were blown wider than you had ever seen, only the faintest color from his iris left as he reminded you who he was and what he could do to your body.

"Play with your clit," you growled at the command, and his hips slowed, causing you to bounce your head on the wall softly before giving in. Your orgasm was building again from the simmer it had settled to, low in your belly. Your adept fingers drew quick figure eights on your clit while your fiancé fucked you into the wall in perfect timing.

Your other hand wrapped around his throat, just below his jaw, squeezing tightly. His pulse hammered between your fingers, and his hips stuttered slightly as his air was restricted. His eyes never left yours as you squeezed, counting the thrusts in your head before letting go. He sucked in deep gulps of air, new vigor to his thrusts.

"'M sorry, baby," he whimpered against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

"Don't you ever do that shit," your sentence was cut off by a moan he ripped from you as his pace picked up, chasing his release as your pussy clamped down on him. "Don't you ever do that again."

"Promise. Fuck, I promise. Cum for me," he kissed you hard, moaning into the kiss as you finally let yourself come undone on him. Your orgasm ripped through you like a tsunami, wave after wave of pulsing pleasure gripping your body tightly, refusing to let go.

Your fiancé fucked you through your orgasm, spilling himself into you deeply, his cum mixing and spilling out from your abused cunt.

Panting filled the hallway as your breathing returned to normal, and you let slip a gentle moan when he finally pulled himself from your pussy and gently put your feet back on the ground, making sure you were stable before letting go of your hips.

He leaned his body weight over you again, caging you in, refusing to let you move.

"Don't leave," he whispered.

You sighed heavily, looking up at the man who drove you to the brink of insanity. His eyes begging you to hear the things he couldn't say.

"You're a bastard."

He nodded and gripped your hip, "I know."

"If you—"

"I'll make it right. You're my queen, and the world needs to be reminded of that. No one else matters." It was a vow.

One that was said only between the two of you and one he intended to keep.

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

AN: I know I said Katsuki at the beginning, but this is also like... big Mikey energy.

x KATSUKI, Dabi, HAWKS (she's just a fan), Kisuke Urahara, Grimmjow, Stark, Aizen, MIKEY, BAJI, Hanma, toxic Draken, toxic Mitsuya.

[soupbabe]

Old Friend (Bo Sinclair x Male! Reader)

Bo has a bittersweet run in with an old childhood sweetheart.

This idea has been plaguing my mind and notes app for forever, but I'm happy with how it came out <3 fic is inspired by the song Old Friend by Mitski!

Warnings: Mild angst, One sided love, Reader is a father

Tagging: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut

Ever since Bo got the call from Lester, he had to dry his sweaty palms on the rag in his back pocket. The name slipping from the other end of the cellphone hit Bo like a ton of bricks. Memories of sneaking out the house, stolen kisses, and your hands gracefully tracing over his hands brought a smile to his face.

"Y/n L/n, huh?" Bo chuckled at the old, but familiar way your name rolled off his tongue. " Well I'll be damned.. Send him over."

It didn't take too long before he saw the beat up truck, and you through the windshield. You've definitely aged since you were 17. Obviously, but it was a welcomed change to the mechanic's eyes. The tired eyes and scruff was a good look for you. As he made his way over, he saw you get out of the car and reach for something in the middle seat. Getting closer, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of a black, bulky car seat with a child chewing on a silicone ring.

Time really changes people in more than one way, huh.

Despite everything, Bo swallowed his shock and called out to you, "Need any help?" He tipped his hat to you as you nestled the little girl on your hip. You gave a wave and encouraged the baby to say her thanks to Lester before turning to Bo. Laughter rung in Bo's ears, along with your much matured voice. "Nice seeing you too, Bo."

God your smile brought him back 20 years.

He hid his bashful gaze under his hat and gestured to the gas station behind him. "Lester told me about your problem. D'ya mind if we get out of this sun while we talk? I'm sure the lil miss would appreciate it." You simply nodded and followed your friend down the gravel road. You spoke up from behind, "So uh..how's life been treating you?" Bo tucked his hands in his pockets, "Nothin' much, been staying back in Ambrose for a while now. How about you?" He forced out a small smirk as he gestured to the 6 month old in your arms. "Find yourself a wife?" "Husband, actually." You corrected with a light laugh. "We found a surrogate to help with our family."

Bo’s smirk faltered, knowing he might’ve been a phase in your life hurt a lot less than knowing you had a life with a man that could’ve been him. "That's great..." he held the door open as watched and you walked in. "So, what kind of car troubles have you been having?" You were taken back by the abrupt topic change, but you brushed it off. Getting back home before dark was best. "Blown tire. My husband told me to keep a spare in the back, but I didn't think I'd actually need it." Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. Bo chuckled, remembering how you'd constantly watch him work on cars for other Ambrose residents. You'd tell your parents that you were just "studying with a friend," but in reality you kept Bo company and would reward him on his hard work.

After telling him about your car, he went down to the basement of the gas station and found the exact spare tire you needed. Though reaching out to grab it, Bo saw his chair in the corner of his eye. You found yourself back to him, back to Ambrose. The man who he shared all of his firsts with, who gave him more love than mama ever could, came back to him like the Lord answered his prayers.

But you didn't come back you, you came back with a different life. The promise ring he once welded for you is now replaced with a wedding band that some stranger bought for you. Unlike then, you're proud to belong to another man. Even though he was barely mentioned, you spoke of your spouse with a level of love he couldn't give you. Hell, you even have a child to take care of.

And while he entertained the thought of keeping you here, he knew you wouldn't be the same man he held onto for years.

Your life was too good for him to keep to himself, to ruin with his own impulses.

Snapping out of his thoughts were you yelling from the doorway, "Everything alright?" You asked. Bo quickly grabbed the tire and hurriedly yelled back. "Yeah. Mind just blanked. Stay up there, I'm coming! " The two men walked out of the station and into Bo's car. Silence filled the ride to your car, except for the occasional directions given to Bo.

As soon as you three made it to the car, Bo got to work changing your tire. The idea of you leaving him again made him feel sick, but having you stay against your will, never loving him back, hurt more. Changing the tire was quick and he avoided eye contact as soon as you came up to inspect the job. "I can't thank you enough, how much do I owe you?" Bo waved it off, "On the house. Just make it home before dark, got it?" His voice was tender and soft. You nodded and surprised him with a hug. "Thank you... y'know I've missed you, Bo. It was nice seeing you again." Bo takes in a deep breath before giving you a pay on the back.

"You got no idea..stay safe, Y/n."

[nixie-writes]

So I sent an ask but im gonna assume tumblr ate it since i got no response

Headcanons for lucifer and lilith adopting a fallen angel child (like 13-14 years old) i was kinda inspired by the one you made of lucifer and lilith adopting an imp so-

I'm glad you liked that one! I got a liiiiitle carried away with this one but oh well!

Lucifer and Lilith Adopt Fallen Angel Child

After God shattered your Halo you wandered the streets of Hell for a few weeks, trying to hide your angel wings and broken Halo.

Things felt hopeless. You were in a bar - not to drink, you were too young, but to be around other demons and hopefully get enough change for a soda. In entered a demon clad in white with an apple-adorned walking stick and every demon bowed their heads, refusing to look in his direction. You were confused.

Being a clueless teenager you strolled straight up to the man and asked, "excuse me, why is no one looking at you?" He let out a wicked cackle and swung his cane. "Oh you sweet innocent child, I can't help but adore how silly you are! You never heard the rumors of the Fallen Angel?" It hits you like a brick. You were speaking to Lucifer.

You scuttled back, bowing by instinct. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't-" He stopped you by pressing a clawed finger to your lips. "Hush child. Why were you damned? You're too young to be here." You sighed and shook your head. "I rebelled against God and told him I'd rather rot than serve him, so I'm here". Lucifer smiled. "You were right to come here, then. Follow me, I'll give you a tour of Hell".

Lucifer took you to many places. An arcade, a cinema and somewhere fancy to eat where you could request all the food you wanted, you were half starved. He paid for it all and considered it a pocket change. At the end of your lovely day he made a proposition.

"Come live with me, my wife and my daughter. You'll love it." He suggested. He was offering just like that? "It's a little fishy," you admitted. Lucifer smiled. "Smart child. But I'm no stranger to you and you'll be well taken care of. Give me a chance?" He pulled those puppy dog eyes no demon could resist. Being an angel you could have said no but you couldn't refuse good care in your state. "Okay," you replied. "Another child it is!" He declared and took your hand, leading you to his home.

***

Upon reaching his home Lucifer introduced you to his wife, Lilith.

"Oh you poor thing, so dirty and hungry! Let me see your Halo," she leaned in and broke the shards from your head. It hurt like a bitch but you obeyed her order to stay still.

"There, now you're fully a demon with wings." She declared with a sweet smile. "Charlie, come meet your new sibling!" Lucifer called down a hallway. A friendly voice replied and a minute later a young woman resembling her father in appearance and her mother in hair and body shape arrived with a puzzled expression. "A fallen angel?" She inquired. Lucifer nodded.

"I found them begging for change in a bar and thought, what could be more powerful than another fallen angel? She'll do great for us!" He laughed heartily.

Charlie held out her hand to you and you took it. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she spoke to you. You nodded your head in agreement, a little shy around this new demoness.

"Shall I show you to your room, Miss?" An imp spoke up. You smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, that would be lovely. I'll be going to bed now, I hope to see you all tomorrow," you bid farewell as you were led to your room by the imp.

[bubblystinkfreak]

what’s your take on the boys personalities? I’ve seen so many of them and I can’t really pin point yours yet!

This is a great question because I never really talked about it before tbh,, hopefully the way I’ll explain it will make sense.

For brick I wanted to mix my three favorite fan interpretations of his personalities into one, The narcissistic asshole who is surprisingly just as smart blossom, the amazing big brother/dad figure, and the goofy lowdown little shit (like in the original). I literally used to fight myself wondering WHICH PERSONALITY DOES HE HAVE,, but then I said fuck it and mixed the bitches.

The best way to describe him is a guy who loves his brothers with all his heart, who works his ass off to provide for them AND A GUY WHOS A MAJOR ASSHOLE. Like the fucker will buy you a present with his damn life savings one minute but the call you a ugly ass wrench and tell you to kill yourself the next. Like idk, I love that kind of personality for him. I imagine that he’s the kinda dude to put his all into the things he loves like his car, his brothers, and later on blossom. Idk I just feel like the lil dude is a perfectionist. I know if you hurt anything that he loves he will kill you, then your family, maybe even the dog if you have one🤷‍♀️. Yeah that’s right, real king shit, he ain’t feared for no reason.

Now let’s move on to Butch.

In my version of him, I literally just made him a crazy ass himbo. Like the man is the sweetest thing when you get to know him but other than that he is an absolute MASS TYRANT,, HE WILL KILL WITH NO MERCY (the only thing he might spare are kids) THATS IT. GOD PRAY YOU ARE NOT THIS MAN’S ENEMY. I like to think that even though he’s actually a really nice guy, he still have urges to hurt/hit things, even when he turns “good”. (Thank mth for that). Idk I just feel like it would make the most sense. But don’t forget, even with those urges he just likes making others around him smile and stuff; he also still really cares about his brothers and puts them above ANYONE else, even buttercup sometimes.

And finally, the last but certainly not least, Boomer.

Now for boomer, I really wanted to give him a different personality than what I usually see with him. In my version I made him a introverted reserved sweetheart who just likes to read books and play games. I just love the thought of the little man doing everything he can to stay out the spotlight to the point he’ll just make a fool of himself. I think I was really inspired to do this because of a character named, Marc, on miraculous.

I feel like he’ll really act like this due to to his anxiety and insecurities. Even though the boys were only joking, the “dumbest of the dumb” stuff used to really get to him when he was young. Plus he’s just a shy dude, and for some reason he think he’s the ugly one out of the brothers… and the dumbest… when butch’s STANKY ASS is right there but you know,, he’s just a insecure teen. Bubbles and brick will help with that later.

Also random bonus: I also love the thought of this dude literally running away from everyone thinking they hate him or something when most people just think he’s super cute and mysterious. Like imagine him talking to bubbles and saying, “omg why are they staring at me like that, did I do something wrong!??” But homie is just pretty and shit. Like oblivious boomer is the best boomer, prove me wrong.

If you want more examples of their personalities then here’s a old comic I made last year that can help, even if it’s short.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| 15. Overstimulation ||

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

Warnings: masturbation.

Author's note: this one is very much inspired by @briefcasejuice , and I really flippin enjoyed myself writing it 😁

"What's the matter, Devil boy?" Frank growls right in his ear, voice grinding as hard as his thick thigh between Matt's legs, right up against his crotch.

"Too much for ya, huh? Too real?"

Matt tries to disguise his moan as one of pain but he's only fooling himself, nevermind anyone else. The two of them had kicked each other's asses up and down his rooftop for what seemed like hours, trading punches, kicks, and headbutts like they were all just innocent flirting touches before they had ended up here. Matt pinned up against the bricks of the staircase wall, heaving and breathless, trapped under Frank's imposing solid frame. His head is spinning, and not just because of probable concussion from all the hits he'd taken (damn Frank was strong…). No, his body is vibrating, brimming with peaked adrenaline from the fight, all of his nerve endings dancing, electric and alight. But there's too much information, too much stimulation coming in from all of his senses. He can't pick it apart, doesn't know what it means.

"Fuckin' knew it…"

Frank is all he can feel. His skin itches like there's hot needles stuck all over him but at every point of contact Frank's body is making with his, it's blazing white hot pokers shoved in, burning and branding him.

"You like that, huh?"

Frank is all he can smell. His distinctive odour of gun oil, blood, dirt, and the underlying scent of cheap drugstore body wash impregnates his clothes, fills his head. He's repulsed by it, or maybe he’s attracted to it… he doesn't even know anymore.

"God, I'd love to be there when you tell your priest ‘bout this one…"

Frank is all he can hear. Oh fuck, wasn't that just the cherry on top. That gruff drawl spitting and snarling at him, telling him he was no better than he was, mocking him, teasing him. Altar boy. Doc. Red.

In the haze of all this Matt realised he'd never call him by his actual name, maybe he couldn't, maybe that would make it too real for him.

"Still with me, pretty boy?"

Matt's head snaps up at the sudden clarity of the rough question, his own voice as he answers distant and almost unrecognisable to him as he tries to parse it out from the overwhelming white noise of his other senses.

"Yeah, yeah…"

And then there’s the taste of him. Both of their flavours fresh on his bloodied lips. That was how it all started. Frank had him held up against the wall, right in his space, so close that his harsh breath warmed Matt's face against the December chill. So close that all he had to do was tilt his head up and…

"Fuck Red, how d'ya even piss in this thing…"

Matt came back to his senses, or tried to. Grasping around in the dark for some sense of- God, this was too much, not enough… no definitely too much. What was even happening? He's panting hard. His cock aches. Oh fuck. When he tries to move it just gets worse, the sensation flowing like a sine wave, sharp then dull then sharp again. Fuck, he's burning up. Are his legs shaking? Is he even standing? He can't tell, his sensory processing is a complete white out, his 'world on fire' is an inferno.

His head lolls back, something scratches rough at his neck. He moans. He can taste salt water, was he crying? Oh god his cock hurts. He reaches down to touch it but he's already holding it. No, it's not his hand. It's bigger, it’s moving. He tries to focus but there's too much damn feeling. It's gripping him, winding him around and coiling every atom of him up so densely he'll implode. The devil in him is silent, laying and lounging at the back of his brain and watching all this unfold, grinning like a fucking idiot.

"You want more?"

He finds himself nodding, moaning, crying. He can't control it, he’s never the one in control here. Warmth explodes through him, pulsing and throbbing through his veins. His mouth is so dry, his throat rough as sandpaper from his harsh vocalisations, but he manages to croak out a prayer to whoever will listen.

"Oh god…"

The feel of Frank's fist around him sharpens, all of those scents, those tastes and touches flickering into super fucking 4K high definition as he finally understands what's happening.

He comes unashamedly at the touch of his… lover? Is that what this is? Either way he finally lets himself feel it all, his torrid release dripping, flowing warm over the other man's cock and fingers as they slow their movements, merging and mixing with his own.

Frank leans his forehead against his.

"Nah, s'just me."

[long-in-the-tooth32]

3D Country - Geese

When I realized I was going to be reviewing an album, one album this year immediately came to my mind. I originally thought maybe it wasn't what I should write about. Sure it's my most listened to album, sure it's probably my favorite record of the year, but at the end of the day 3D Country is only a rock record. But I think the conclusion I've come to, is that a rock record is all this album needs to be

3D Country by Brooklyn based outfit geese, as mentioned a moment before, is a rock record. No addendums, no post-, not art-rock, an argument could be made for experimental but using that genre label for anything and everything new robs it off it's meaning to me. No geese made an honest to god blues inspired rock revival record in 2023. If you're familiar with similar efforts of the past few years, you may be as scared as I am about anyone claiming to make new classic rock. I can assure you though, geese are anything but copycats who seek to replicate the music of 50 years ago. This is something wholly new.

The album opens with the absolutely vicious '2122', an absolutely ballistic and manic track that hits you in the face like 20 lbs of bricks right from the jump. The bands makes very clear they are not here to make friends, they're here to tear shit up like nothing else. And then immediately one of the greatest flourishes in the track listing occurs. We go from there to the more toned down title track. A more reflective piece, with lyrics evoking our main character's regrets and tribulation. The first track almost appears as boasting now, false bravado that is more so a defense mechanism than an act of war. This switch really encapsulates one of the most amazing things this record accomplishes. It refuses to be pinned down. Tonally, lyrically, and even within the confines of the bands own compositions.

These songs whip and thrash around, riff after awe inspiring riff coming down like machine gun fire on the listener. And then within these riffs are improvisations and subversion. The more I've listened to the record the more I've noticed, the infinite amount of minute details become more and more apparent to me. And with this a realization that this band is something truly special.

There's a chemistry between the members of this band that I have not heard in a very long time. They play in respect to each other, allowing the music to ebb and flow with each spontaneous addition or modulation. And I think an interesting question that really gets to the heart of this album is why do they play like this, with such fast and loose rules. I think the answer is obvious and quite straightforward, it's too much god damn fun for the band to be convinced to play otherwise.

This isn't to say the album is perfect. I think that there are some weaker points, specifically some decisions that seem ill advised. Undoer, the longest track on the runtime, clocking in at 7 minutes, is far too long. A song of this length almost feels out of place here, I even feel like there's a moment about 4 minutes in where the song naturally concludes but then the band just keeps going for about 3 minutes. As well as this I don't particularly love the track Domoto. It's chorus is a really great one, but the rest of the track never really stuck with me in any meaningful way.

All in all, to say that 3d country is a triumph would be putting it lightly for me. This album is a spectacle. A truly amazing through and through rock record, one that remembers the joy that made rock an incredible genre in the first place.

[alexandria-is-my-firstname]

More sketches as always,,,

First one would be a Charles Raisinburger sketch, didn't like his boss form and felt like making him more menacing,,, perhaps having boss phases, starting with this Chainsaw Man inspired design as his half or mid-form,,,

(Raisinburger having his hammer as a head that could combust like a rocket aand having a chainsaw-attached gun arm, a mix of Denji's chainsaw and Gut's prosthetic arm)

Second yet supposedly first sketch,,,

Monster Ethan wearing a bigass bath robe cause there's nothing else he could wear in that form, was kinda inspired by Lady D,,, in a way,,, (couldn't find a thicker pencil, reason why the sketch doesn't look visible)

Third sketch,,,

Fairy God-mother and Meowy, Rose's two besties. Ethan's dynamic with Meowy is basically the dad who doesn't want pets but ends up becoming bros, as well Ethan sorta mimicking Meowy without realization (really deepens the Catboy Ethan headcanon, damn),,, (I did had an idea where Ethan - before getting booted to death - was allergic to cats, reason why he isn't fond of cats nor' having any pets nor' there were any pets shown in his and Mia's house)

Idea of Meowy started from here,,,

Lastly,,, the continu-angst-tion,,,

Last sketches were supposed to be drawn for a previous post but artblock hit me like a brick, but here we are,,,

Sketch 1-5: Thought about Ethan saying something that resulted Mia to stare and have interest in him, the quote "the rain sure is beautiful, surely an angel is near" was both from my mom who believes the rain were led by angels, and from a cultural belief where rain brings good luck (mostly for farmers) and kudos to my friend who turns it into a dialogue,,,

Sketch 6-11: I think Ethan watches a lot of movies, being the geek one in the office while Mia barely watches any movies, giving a reason for the two to hang out and afterwards date,,, (edit: it was supposed to be Ethan saying "we should have a movie night", damn my dialogue-forgetting arse)

Sketch 12-15: Imagine the happiest moment and the most painful moment drawn in one paper,,,

Sketch 16-19: Dunno what to write,,, so, for the people of RE7,,,

Sketch 20-23: for 20-21, Ethan and Mia were about to plant a flower (dunno know what else to say),,,

Sketch 24: Alas,,, they snuggled,,,

Origin of the last sketches,,,

Before ending it for today, Ethan being a systems engineer and geeky everyman to becoming the megamycete's host and the second-coming of the black god felt like something particularly out of Devilman, the protagonist who once lived a normal everyman or avarage joe life only to become a devilman yet who's heart still retain humanity and love.

I mean, Mia and other characters aside,,, imagine being Ethan's co-worker from the beginning of RE7, your acquaintance or perhaps office buddy called you and informed that he found his presumed-dead-wife's location,,, and of course, you'd be surprised by the news yet skeptic knowing that 3 years had passed and how would your office buddy's wife survived all those years?,,, and,,, after the call, your office buddy was never seen nor' heard again except for the article/newspaper relating to the Bakers' estate,,, and you were the last person to hear your office buddy,,, and as years passed by, you're not aware that your ol' buddy turned out to be a moldy corpse, had a mushroom-messiah-daughter and (in the continuation) became a mold god,,, shit escelated hard,,, and you're just a human continuing your joey days til' your dead,,,

To make it short, the concept of some normal guy being put in a situation where they develop into a dangerous entity who's heart is still pure really fascinates me as both artist and writer (I do have original works involving with that concept but i'll share later),,,

And alas, Mia putting Ethan in varies dangers - resulting him becoming a moldy boi - and feeling overwhelming guilt yet still being loved by Ethan after all the painful events is really something,,, can't find the right words to describe it but yeah (LIES!! IT'S THE SONG "Juan Karlos - Kalawakan" THAT HAS THE VIBE!!). That's it for today,,,

.

.

.

And yes,,, Ethan's now a god and here's how,,,

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

our flag means death 1.09 & 1.10 thoughts

it is hilarious to me that i was like “i need this cute sweet show to balance out the suffering that killing eve is going to cause me!” let me just say: NOW I BETTER GET MY FAR LESS COMPLICATED OTP EVE AND VILLANELLE LIVING HAPPILY EVER AFTER, BLISSFULLY IN LOVE!!!!!!!! holy eff, i can’t really remember being THIS hurt by a television show or a story in general in a long time. pulling no punches, david jenkins, you heartbreaking bastard, you master of emotions! wow, wow.

real talk, i think i may have felt literally every emotion watching these two episodes??????? holy f.

like!!! the LOVE the “...you.” the KISSING the PLANNING TO RUN AWAY TOGETHER!!!!! the SWEETNESS the LOVE!

the PAIN!

everything about them thinking of each other in 1.10!!!!!! the love epiphany montage while mary was talking about love!!!!!!! “HIS NAME IS ED” RIGHT AS ED IS REVERTING INTO BLACKBEARD!!!!!! why won’t someone punch me in the face and end my suffering?!?!?!?!

and then -- and i did not actually clock this while i was watching, but it hit me like a ton of bricks afterwards -- stede pulled the same move on ed that he did on mary, i.e. abandoning him out of nowhere!!!!! but it was so much worse with ed because he and ed were actually in love!!! the contrast of mary living her best life and ed living his most heartbroken life and then just having a total freaking sanity break after izzy pushed him, oof.

the presence of toxic masculinity and abusive fathers has in this series is so fascinating to me and so visceral. (visceral!) the way that both stede and ed are grappling with it and SO deeply wounded by it, and the way it is the force that pulls them apart from each other, is just so painful, especially in a narrative about queer men. i feel like izzy just completely triggered all of ed’s abusive dad trauma there, paralleling stede’s lifelong trauma of being shamed over ~not being a man~. (that last shot of him SOBBING??????? so this show is supposed to be a comedy, huh??????????? taika’s supposed to be a comedic actor, huh??????) the fact that ed was finding a way to be happy with the crew and express himself even through his heartbreak over stede leaving and then falling back into that horrible, horrible brutality and darkness ........ fricking hell guys, this is gonna haunt me. such dark storytelling, so vulnerable and painful. which i guess makes a lot of sense and is tonally appropriate in a show that is, after all, about blackbeard!

related note to the above: i loved stede’s breakdown when he was confronted by ... guy who played frankenstein’s monster on penny dreadful (you can’t expect me to remember names at a time like this!), and how stede fully believed he was cursed and a monster. the parallel with ed, ow, OW!!!

(i also thought it was interesting that stede finally got some validation from his fellow men, and that partly they just seemed so impressed and inspired that he chose to do ANYTHING new in middle age after feeling trapped in the everydayness of life!)

sorry izzy, i’m GLAD ed made you eat your toe. you full on chewed up ya own toe and you deserved to! if anyone’s earned it, it’s ye!!!!! (i’m just gonna be an izzy hater because he ruined my life. i get that ed is responsible for his own actions but also i’m insane with grief right now, so. F U, IZZY!!!!!!!! but also good job being such an epic antagonist. but also, my god, i hate you. i hate you. eat all your toes, bitch!!!! and then your god damn elbows or something!!!!!!!!!!)

i refuse to believe lucius is dead until i see a body!!!!! they wouldn’t actually take lucius from us, would they? D: or from his babe black pete??

the books :’( the books that ed loved the presence of so much :’(

it’s hard to remember the happy feelings after that ending (THAT ENDING! NO!!!!!), but yayyyyyy jim and oluwande! what a good otp! now terribly torn asunder like ALL the otps!

i really liked how this episode did so right by mary and gave us such a look into her perspective and gave her such a voice. this show is very light on women but i REALLY liked how from early on it painted stede as in the wrong for having the privilege of totally checking out from his marriage and not trying (kind of a mr. bennet-y move) and i just LOVED getting to see what her life became after he “died.” what a great character she is!! the widow bonnet, rock on. <3

stede’s faked death was basically me dealing with my emotions re: the ed story developments. and then the piano fell on me!

genuinely cannot imagine what will become of me, of us all, if they cancel this one here, folks. aw, crap. i’m legit scared for us as a fandom society. :( prayer circle that hbo max has mercy on fandom for this one. i wonder if david jenkins is worried about us tonight. because HE SHOULD BE!!!!!!! (affectionate)

i’ll just be over here trying to understand how the blackbeard’s bar and grill snakery snackery flirting scene came from the same show as THIS.

i feel like i should be watching the pirates have an adorable talent show right now and stede get back to the ship so he can embrace ed joyfully. and instead we got this!!!!!!!!!! somebody bring me some therapy on a platter posthaste!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh god guys what if it doesn’t get renewed

also, i had a terrible red eye flight a few nights ago and i spent it deliriously writing random bits of a fic where ed and stede build a blanket fort together and so ed moping in a blanket fort having the ghosted-by-my-bf blues genuinely shocked me a little. i am at one with the ofmd-iverse. my version was much happier however. (but omg, everybody’s reaction to his song lyrics!!!!!!!! ed sweetheart come back!!!!!!)

SEASON TWO, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE!!!!!!!

stede pretending to talk to ed at the dinner table when all he had was the petrified orange they found on their treasure hunt date! :’(

someone please help me. i’m gonna barf. at least on an emotional level.

tomorrow’s gonna be fun for us here on tumblr.com! aaaaaaah!

can you imagine how painful season two is going to be

can you imagine the effing interactions stede and ed are going to have

but to be without it would be a far deeper pain

is this a comedy

i am not well

p.s. the title makes more sense now

now i get why david jenkins was like “we need more seasons to fully tell this story” i bet he feels TERRIBLE FOR US. maybe he didn’t expect anybody to care quite this much!!!!! cut to: us, devastated.

[mxchellesworld]

swim

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings; smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, degradation, light choking, creampies, slight thigh riding

Synopsis; during a night out with your friends you spot a tall man in a dark suit with an even darker look in his eyes

a/n; this is literally just smut with very little plot lmaoo uhh i’ve been struggling in my smut writing/writing in general so here’s this, hope its not completely trash and you enjoy!

fic inspired by swim by chase atlantic, bc god knows i can't write anything original sdhfdh

***

It was 10 o’clock when your girlfriends rounded you up for a night out, hopefully full of sweet drinks and good company. By 11:30 you were happily buzzed and the feelings of warm bodies around you brought a heat to your lower stomach. Maybe tonight you’d go home with someone, wake up the next morning with that delicious sense of soreness between your legs. The only task at hand was finding a companion.

Once the current song ended you walked over to the bar grabbing a water and taking a seat next to your friends.

“How are the prospects lookin tonight y/n/n?” Jessica, the short brunette you’d known for years asked. Being around her had rubbed some of her boldness onto you. Hopefully that could make an appearance tonight.

“No luck so far,” you sighed “but my eyes are wide open.” You brought the straw to your lips, gulping down the cool water as you looked around the dimly lit room.

“Woah check out suit and tie over there. He’s been checking you out for a while,” chimed Erika. While she has happily taken, that didn’t stop her from going out with you guys and pushing you into random laps.

You looked up to see the darkest pair of brown eyes on yours. Maybe it was the lighting but here was something in them. Lust perhaps? His eyes travelled down your frame as you stood up. The tight lilac dress you had on hugging each of your curves perfectly.

"I'm gonna get some air, let me know if you guys wanna head out," you said never letting your eyes drift away from the handsome stranger a few feet away.

Once outside you let your back hit the brick wall. The music from the building could be felt vibrating through the cracks. You looked up seeing the stars barley visible through the city lights.

"Contrary to popular belief you can never see millions of stars, they simply aren't close and bright enough. On a really exceptional night, with no moon and far from any source of lights, a person with very good eyesight may be able to see 2000-2500 stars at any one time."

You turned to see the same man from inside. He was gorgeous, a light stubble grazing his cheeks, long hair falling past his ears. He was a lot taller than you had thought probably taller than 6'0 but all that made you think about was him towering over you.

"Did you make that up off the top of your head? Or do you approach all your conquests with astronomy facts?"

"That depends do you usually let strange men corner you behind bars or am I just special?" he said walking closer to where you stood.

"Touche Mr."

"Doctor actually."

There was a brief pause where you both let out a giggle. The dark eyes from before seemed lighter and you cold almost make out a blush on his cheeks. The lack of alcohol on his breath told you it was from the conversation, though there was nothing to be flushed about yet.

“But seriously a pretty girl walking out to a back alley late at night is just a recipe for disaster,” he finished scanning both ends.

“Well do you plan on hurting me doctor?" you said coyly. You did you best to flutter your lashes looking up at him.

"Is that what you want?" he said letting one of his hands tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. That same hand ended up resting loosely around you neck making you gulp.

"Yes," you breathed out, "please doctor."

He wasted no time in crashing his lips to yours. You moaned into his mouth as he slid his thigh in between your own. His unoccupied hand went down to your hip, slowly guiding the pace of your frantic rutting.

Your lips parted as your head tilted back onto the brick wall. A symphony of whimpers leaving your mouth.

"Look how desperate you are for me. I haven't even done anything and you're already such a mess," he said leaving wet kisses, cooling on your scorching neck.

"Oh fuck doctor," you said clinging onto his arms, "need y'to fuck."

The power he had over you turned your brain to mush. It was sad how quickly he had you melted in the palm of hand without even doing much but kissing. At this point you didn't even care. The only thought swimming in your head was having him inside you.

A pout formed on your lips as his hands dropped from your frame. However it was quickly wiped away as you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling.

"Is this what you needed baby? You need my cock to stretch you out?" he said pulling your hips closer to his.

You looked up at him for permission before you reached forward to pump your hand along his shaft. He lifted your right leg, hooking it over his arm as he pulled the thin material separating the both of you to the side.

Guiding his length to your glistening folds was a sight you'd want engraved in your brain forever. The first intrusion of his fat tip in your tight hole had you mewling a mix of curses and his title.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as his thrusts gained speed. The sound of your skin slapping luckily wouldn't have been heard through the door with the loud music playing inside. But anyone who walked by the alley or decided it was time for a breath of air would surly be in for a show.

"Fuck you're such a good little whore for me," he said gruffly against the skin of your shoulder, "letting me fuck you out here where anyone could see."

Your pussy clenched at his words and your moans amplified as he continued to pound into you. The curve of his cock hitting the spot inside of you that had you seeing all the stars in the sky contrary to what he said before.

"More doctor! Please wanna cum," you whined.

He made a noise of disapproval before pushing you back farther into the wall. At this point you and the red bricks were one. You were sure to have crescent marks on how hard he was holding up your thigh.

"Greedy little whore aren't you," he gritted out, "You take whatever I wanna give you."

"Please I need it! Need t'cum please please please," you rushed out bucking your hips to meet each one of his thrusts.

His hold on your hip got tighter as he started drilling into you. You could feel his heavy breathes on your shoulder and the way his cock was throbbing inside you ready to fill you up.

Your mind was dizzy. It felt like you were in a bubble of him, the scent of his cologne trapped in your senses. Your nerves were on fire, any pressure on your neglected bud would be sure to set you off.

It was as if the gods had answered your prayers when he spoke, "I can feel you clenching around me baby. Go ahead and touch yourself for me," he rasped out.

Reaching between yourself you felt the slippery mess where you both connected and started rubbing at your stiff clit. Your fingers sent lighting strikes through your body, breaking the damn that was building in your lower tummy.

"Gonna cum! I'm oh god cumming doctor," you all but yelled out. If people walking around the corner were unaware of the spectacle they sure would be now.

"That's it.. such a good girl."

Your arms around his neck let up as you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. His lips swallowing the moans you let out as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

"Where do you want-," he tried to speak out but you cut him off.

"Inside," you begged, "Need to feel you cum inside." His thrusts turned frantic as you spoke against his lips. Pleading for hum to fill you to the brim with his seed.

You sighed as you finally felt the warm liquid coat your walls, his thrusts continuing to pump into you.

He pulled out stepping back to watch the creamy mess spill down your center before be swiped it away with his fingers, bringing them up to your awaiting mouth.

Happily you took his fingers in your mouth, moaning around them at the salty taste of your mixed release. You looked up at him keeping your gaze on the sliver of brown around his dilated pupils.

_

Walking back into the bar Jessica and Erika's eyes nearly popped out of their heads as they took in the limp in your walk and your disheveled hair.

"You whore!," Erika screamed out greeting you with pats on the shoulder.

"Shut up," you said looking down feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

Jessica giggled handing you her compact mirror, "Yeah I bet we're not the only ones who called her that," she finished with a raise of her brow.

Looking back up across the bar you saw the same dark eyes from before staring at you with a smug smile, proud how much of mess he left you in. If the little business card tucked in your bra told you anything, it was that the stunt from outside would be far from the last.

[hotdamnhunnam]

I Wanna Be Your Slave

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which you and Jax are locked in a cellar and he ties you to a whipping post and whips your ass lol. Master/slave roleplay but in this fic (unlike some of my other Kinkfest fics...) Jax is actually a good guy not an absolute asshole. Title is inspired by the Måneskin song at the below link! **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, degradation, dom!Jax, bondage, master/slave kink, spanking, whipping Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~3.8k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂 ALSO note that this fic is just straight up shitty – I wrote most of it years ago without giving a fuck and am not bothering with improving the quality, I sort of used to rhyme back then but not consistently so it’s a shitshow really, I’m just shoving Jax into the setup for this fic with zero context literally, and I realize that the kinks in this fic are totally not mainstream and super filthy, so for once it’s really refreshing that I’m not gonna be sitting around hoping that people will shower my writing with praises or that this fic will explode in popularity 🙃

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

***************

You're trapped in a cellar. 

With Jax Fucking Teller.

There's a whole fucking story behind how the two of you got here—some shit involving stolen guns, some rival gang that hates the Sons, your father being all politically significant and powerful enough that you're now being held as ransom—and honestly you should be crippled with fear. But this tall blonde bastard is so fucking handsome. You've been crushing on him for years. And nothing else matters right now when you're so fucking horny for him that you're damn near to tears.

He looks and smells goddamn divine. You know that's not the kind of thought that should be running through your mind. Not here, stricken with fear for your safety. It's crazy. But losing yourself in desire for Jax just feels... fucking unreal. So damn good. Better than it should. It's comforting, or something. Dangerously comforting. In his presence, you don't even care if it doesn't make sense.

Ever since you got stuck in this mess, you've been clinging to him in the darkness. Clutching his flannel-clad arms in a tight grasp which quickly turns into a desperate caress. Through the cloth you can feel the incredible bulge of his biceps and God it's just...

"It's okay, darlin'," he says. Shifts to give you the comfort you crave as you bury your face in his broad sculpted chest. Presence warming and calming. Even after what's happened this morning, you somehow feel safe in the arms of the crown prince of Charming. It's totally fucked to be honest. "Hey, I'll get us out of this. Promise."

The silent answer in your head is beyond shameless. But here with your cheek pressed against his firm pecs... shuddering in bliss as you breathe in his mouthwatering manly essence... flooding between your legs, 'cause he is pure fucking sex... you could honestly just live and die in this man's godlike presence. You bite your tongue to fight the shit you really want to say, keeping it back. Please don't, Jax... don't get us out of this—I want to stay...

Neither of you has any clue yet that you're bound to serve Jax Teller in this cellar as his filthy little slave today.

With one hand still gripping his strong upper arm you reach up with the other, wrapping it over his leather-bound shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck and clinging to his strong sturdy body like ivy to brick. You can feel a faint layer of sweat on his neck that you're instantly dying to lick.

Your senses are reeling. Here, with him as you give voice to a wild irrational fear, you can't deny that dread isn't the only thing you're feeling. You'll take life-threatening danger if it comes with the reward of you and Jax fucking. "... are they gonna sell us as sex slaves or something?"

The hottest sound you've ever heard bursts softly from his throat. It's low and quiet, caught between a breathy laugh and breathless groan. You bite down on your lip then to stifle your own slutty moan. His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can feel the heat burning beneath, and from the way his tongue traces along the edges of his teeth, you can tell the answer to your question is no.

That's not the answer you want, though. It's precious that Jax doesn't already know. Some part of him probably does but hell if it won't take a little more for him to let it show.

You're gonna give him more than just a little more.

With a bat of your lashes, your flirtiest dirtiest smile flashes; you drop to your knees before him like a whore.

"Oh f—" he mutter, too shocked to even utter the full curse, sapphire eyes wide in wonder, "what are..."

"Practice," you purr as you lick your lips, eager hands framing his hips. "If I'm gonna be a sex slave then I think I should practice performing... service..."

Jax sucks in a sharp hiss as you bury your face in the crotch of his jeans, massaging his dick through the denim with your doting mouth till he's harder than he's ever been.

"Practice makes... perfect, doesn't it?" you say as you savor the smell and the feel of his meat. Good enough to eat. "Though you already are, Jax. Every inch of you is perfect. That's a hard fucking fact."

Jax throws his head back, huge cock throbbing with a luscious twitch. "Son of a bitch..."

"Mmm, make me your bitch, Jax. Please. I wanna be your slave. Serve you in every way. It's what the slut inside me needs... and craves..." you shamelessly confess as your hands set to work on his fly to unleash the glory of Jax Teller. "Nothing else even matters today. We're here now all alone together, in this shady little cellar..."

When his cock springs free you could swear that this piece of meat is your entire life's purpose. All set to be worshiped and serviced, because his delicious existence demands and deserves it. He's so. Fucking. Perfect.

You gaze up at his gorgeous face as you melt in his presence, and finish your sentence. "... so let's make it fucking worth it."

*************** 

The first order you take from Jax Teller, as he finally falls into his role as your master right here in this cellar... is to get your filthy hands off of his dick. You are not to touch it till you've fucking earned it. Like a dog, like the bitch that you are, he tells you to just sit. 

To stay down on your knees and to not move an inch, not even turn your head as he strides toward the far wall behind you, brutally keeping his beautiful self beyond your field of vision for a minute. 

You bite your lip, listening to the footsteps and movements that he won't let you witness. Rustling noises. You hope that he's stripping off his stupid clothes. That when you see him next, he'll be towering over you gorgeously naked.

And God yes, he is, when he returns at last to stand before his bitch. You groan in sheer bliss as your awestruck eyes try to take in every last flawless inch of his smooth, glowing skin. There is just... too much perfection. You couldn't even process the divine glory of Jax in a whole damn lifetime, let alone one split second.

Hypnotized though you are by him, your gaze then shifts to notice what he's holding, and... holy shit. Apparently he hadn't gone to the far wall just to undress. 

He had taken stock of the supplies and other items stored down in this shady cellar and he has returned bearing gifts: a coil of rope, long and thick, and a wicked-looking leather whip.

"Like what you see, huh?" he taunts, no doubt referring to both his new toys and his nude body, especially his dick. "Kinky little bitch. Now get up and strip."

"Yes, Master," you blurt out, rising to your feet, hastening to obey his order.

"Bad slave. You are not to speak until I say you can," Jax commands, taking a deliberate step toward you. With both rope and whip clutched in one fist, he reaches to cup your chin with his other hand. "Do you fucking understand?"

Fighting your burning urge to scream yes sir, somehow you keep your lips sealed and just nod your head.

Jax's blazing blue gaze devours your face as his fingers descend to frame your jawbone, then to close around your throat. "That's a good slut. Keep that dirty mouth shut. Or else you're gonna suffer some serious punishment."

Fuck—hearing him talk like this, while he strangles your neck in his dominant fist, is too much. You've become a trembling mess beneath his touch.

"Mmm, look at you shaking. Desperate piece of shit. I'm starting to think that maybe punishment…" he whispers in your ear as he tightens his grip around your neck, "...is what you fucking want."

Oh God, your inner voice grunts, struggling not to say it aloud. In the most painfully perfect way, the fact that he's choking you now actually makes it easier to stay silent.

His husky growl and twisted words are sending waves of pleasure through your body, hitting all the spots you never knew you had and soaking up your cunt.

"Yeah, you're begging for it. Already ignoring your master's orders. Disobedient bitch," he scoffs, shoving you up against a nearby wall, his every movement rough and quick. "Didn't I tell you to strip?"

Before you can even manage to nod at him, still just staring, Jax's hand drops from your neck down to the fabric of the fancy buttoned cardigan you're wearing. Your daddy is rich, so you typically dress like a spoiled little bitch.

"Need me to show you how to do it? You that fucking stupid?" he sneers, suddenly yanking it off you with just a few effortless jerks of his wrist. "Now take off the rest. And then go stand against that beam. Hands on the wood, head down, with your ass facing me."

Jax steps away, sharp blue glare dark and daunting as he watches his slave scurry to obey. In a matter of seconds, your clothes and shoes have been flung off, and you practically throw yourself against the wooden beam, grabbing the jagged surface desperately, wincing as the splinters graze your fingers. Even that sharp little sting feels good, because this is what Jax wanted.

You keep your head bent low, bowed submissively per your master's orders, breathing shallow as you feel his presence coming toward you from behind, steady and slow. A gasp slips past your throat when you feel his calloused hands upon your wrists, binding your hands to the beam with the thick, heavy rope. The knots securing you in place are strong and tight, expertly tied. This must not be his first time doing this, you realize, beyond turned on by his well-practiced dominance. By just what a masterful master he is.

"Mmm. You look so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, leaning over your body with his massive cock grinding into your ass, sliding against the crack so that you can feel the tip of it, swollen and wet, hovering over the small of your back. One of his hands tugs at your hair, arching your neck backward a bit as his lips attack the soft skin of your throat in a harsh, biting kiss. "Beautiful baby girl, all bound up naked and aching to be punished. You gonna take it? Good and hard, just like the slave you know you are? Gonna be a good little bitch?"

His hot mouth teases at the corner of your lips, knowing how badly you want to kiss him, to taste him, fucking torturing you with it. Though his firm grip on your hair is anchoring your head right where he pleases, you're sure that he can feel the way you struggle now to bob it up and down, to give him your wholehearted yes.

"Yeah, that's it. Ever done this before, you dirty whore? This sweet ass ever taken a beating?"

You're not quite sure how to answer that—certain guys from your past have given your ass a few smacks, here and there, when you asked... but you don't know if that kind of thing really counts as a beating. The dynamic with them was never nearly as brutal and degrading. And they had only ever used their hands; no toys or torture instruments.

"Can't even answer the question? Dumb little bitch," Jax snickers as his face moves away from your neck, standing to his full height behind you, then stepping back so that his dick is no longer brushing against your crack, leaving you feeling emptier than ever at his absence. "Not that it matters. 'Cause I'm sure you ain't ever been beaten like this."

Ohhh shit, you think, inhaling through your teeth with a loud hiss as you feel the first soft touch of leather on your skin, his wicked fucking whip. For now he is just devilishly teasing you with it, tracing lines down your back with the tip.

"This what you want, slut? Gonna need to hear you beg for it," he orders, his other hand still tangled in your hair, pulling your skull more sharply back. "Go on. Open that filthy fucking mouth and tell me what you want."

"Thank you, Master," you whimper, letting all your shameless words fall out. "I want you. God, I want you to beat me. Hurt me. Please. I want pain, if it will bring you pleasure, sir. I want my punishment."

"Mmmmn," Jax growls, clearly incredibly aroused, and you could seriously cum just from that sound. "Bet you do, bitch. Let's see just how bad you want it, huh? See how wet you've gotten. Needy little cunt."

You've already been dripping now, for more minutes than you can count. The next sound you hear is a soft thud, which you're guessing is the whip having been cast down to the ground. Jax needs his right hand free to start going to town on your pussy.

The words that have just come out of his mouth, coupled with the feeling of his fingers making contact with your slick mound, sliding over your clit, slipping into your slit and stirring you up, swirling your wet heat around, then plunging three digits in knuckles deep, pushing in and back out slowly first before he starts to fucking pound... this just brings all the walls inside you crashing down. Floodgates in you burst open on the instant as your arousal uncontrollably gushes out. It's killing you to stay silent through all of this, but you don't dare disobey his orders, don't dare make a sound.

"Holy fuuuck," Jax grunts as he pulls his hand off of your cunt. "So wet. Tight pussy squirting all over your master. Such a dirty fucking slut."

He reaches over you to shove his sloppy, sticky fingers in your mouth, your cheek pressing against the wooden beam, as you obediently suck them clean. You're not usually one to enjoy your own flavor that much, but fuck, it tastes better than ever now that you are being fed by him, the sex god of your dreams.

Then as soon as his fingers pull out, he leans in and angles your head toward him so that he can kiss your mouth, and holy—wow. 

You know right away that you could never get enough of the feel of his full, luscious lips against yours, the taste of his talented tongue as it fucking invades and explores. He hums and groans into the kiss, sending resonant vibrations of his dominance down your throat and all over your mouth, and damn, you kind of really want to die right now.

But you don't. Of course, not yet. More than anything you're still desperate for your punishment.

"Fucking perfect little slave," Jax snarls as he pulls away, and you can hear him squatting down behind you to pick up his whip. 

Before he does, while he's down there on his haunches, he takes the chance to manhandle your ass cheeks, groping firmly and then biting down on one of them, pausing to admire the mark that he made on your flesh with his ravenous teeth, then giving that spot a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and finally a sharp, stinging slap. Your knees buckle from how much you fucking liked that.

"Slut," he chuckles as he gives that cheek a few more smacks, each harder than the last. He makes sure to give the same sweet kinky treatment to the other cheek, biting and kissing then spanking both halves with his big, sturdy hands before he finally picks up his whip, one palm still groping your ass as he stands.

"Ready to feel this whip lashing your pretty little ass?" Jax dominantly asks. "Tell me, slave. How many do you want."

You're so blissed out right now that you barely have control over your lolling tongue. "Uh... uh—a lot."

"That's not a number, slut. Give me a number you can fucking count."

"Ughhhh..." you groan out as he trails the strip of leather wickedly against your ass, "...umm, a hundred?"

A soft laugh escapes his throat. "That's cute. You must be new to this, darlin'. I'm not about to beat you dead."

Some part of you right now kind of likes the sound of that. Which is maybe... sort of... bad? Jax is still talking, so for better or for worse, you don't have time to dwell on that.

"I can do a hundred. But only if each one is... weak... and soft..." he tells you, bending over your body to press his lips against your face again, kissing your cheek, tender and sweet. "Is that what you want? Or does this filthy bitch want it hard?"

His mouth has descended to bite down on your neck as he says it, causing you to cry out in bliss. "Fuck yes, please—hard!"

Jax huffs out another sexy little laugh. "That's what I fucking thought. I'm gonna give you ten to start," he offers, leaving wet kisses on the smooth skin that he'd bitten. "Ten nice and hard. That sound good, baby girl? And you just tell me if you want more. Or... if it's too much, if you ever want me to lighten up, or stop—"

"I won't," you blurt out. "God, Jax, I want... I need you to just fucking beat my ass off."

"Mmmn. Babe, you are fucking amazing, you know that?" he growls, fondly nuzzling your neck for a second before he pulls back, standing behind you, with his rock hard cock once again hovering over your crack. "But Jax ain't my name right now. Is it. What do you call me, slut."

You cringe at your own unforgivable error. "Master. I'm so sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you better be, bitch," he snarls, as the whip that has been gliding delicately over your body suddenly lifts away from your skin. "Fucking take it."

Holy—fucking—shit. The sharp, searing pain that you feel in that instant is so goddamn perfect. Electric, explosive, exquisite. Everything Jax is. Your life as you know it is finished; you live only to serve and to worship this god of a man who deals out such sweet punishment. You love it. You love him.

The rugged velvet sound of his voice in this moment just deepens your love for him, heightens your pleasure. "Count 'em for me, whore," he orders ruthlessly. "Want more?"

"One... Thank you, sir," you sigh, hazy from the incredible high. "Please, Master. More."

For a hell of a long time, Jax gives you everything you beg him for. And every second of the pleasurable pain is so damn dirty, so damn pure, completely perfect. But you both know that, given what a desperate slut and dedicated slave you are, you will literally never want him to stop. So Jax is the one who hits pause, when he decides he should. 

You never wanted it to end, but this is what your master wants—so as much as it saddens you, still you just give in, and still it feels good.

"Damn, baby," he breathes, dropping the whip, gently kneading your ass as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up your spine with his soft, sinful lips. "Guess I should've known better than to ask you for a number. Such a good little slave. But we're gonna stop here, okay?"

"Yes, Master," you whisper.

"You know why we're gonna stop?" he teases as his mouth reaches the back of your neck. "It's not just because I'm done with beating you. Nah, the real reason is that... there's something even better I've been dying to do."

Part of you already knows what it is. And all of you wants it. Needs it.

Jax tilts your head to claim your mouth in a kiss, as his huge dick aligns with your soaking wet slit. "Mmmn. That's it, bitch," he moans into your lips. "Gonna fucking fuck you."

Every damn thing about Jax Teller is literally magic. So, as his massive cock basically breaks your body in half, as his heavy balls slap up against your cunt with each ferocious thrust so hard and fast, as his dominant hands grope and grab all over your just beaten ass... every inch of you feels so damn blessed upon contact. 

You can't imagine any better way to recover from your punishment. Not that you ever really want to recover from it—mostly you just want more and more of it—but no matter what you want, healing is what you need. 

And Jax heals just as well as he hurts. Even better, in fact. 

Once he's done fucking your pussy rough and dirty, shooting his divine cum deep inside you just the way you beg him to, he unties your ropes and then spends the next hour or so kissing and caressing and cuddling with you, massaging your ravaged ass cheeks with his hands and mouth, taking you to heaven when that sweet mouth eats you out, and even when he lets you worship his cock the way you've been dying to do, even when he grabs your head and fucks your face before he explodes down your throat, even then it still feels like healing. You both really needed that feeling.

He lifts you up to kiss you, deep and slow, on the lips before you are even done swallowing his cum. You let yourself drown in that beautiful face, hoping that Jax knows how damn good he tastes. How perfect he is in every way. That he is a fucking god, that everyone on earth should kneel before him as his slave.

When the kiss finally ends, as you both try to catch your breath for a few seconds, the cold hard fact of your predicament sets in again.

"We should probably put some clothes on, babe," he says, coming down from the high of his sex-heated haze. "Then I've gotta work out a way to escape."

You can tell that Jax sincerely meant it, when he'd promised he would save you from this place, and you don't doubt it for a minute. 

Still, there's no denying that you two are stuck in the middle of some serious deep shit. But after having experienced such punishment and pain and pleasure, such submission and service, such sex and love with Jax Teller, today down in this cellar—which you're pretty sure would not have happened under any other circumstances ever...

"Well," you sigh, breathing in his scent for what you hope won't have to be the final time before you die, "whatever happens next, Jax, this was..."

"Definitely," he cuts in to interrupt you with a few passionate kisses, then smiles down at you so devilishly it's delicious. So hellish it's heavenly. Finishes your sentence and it's just so fucking perfect. "Fucking worth it."

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

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[itsbeenahellofayear]

what we got, it don't come easy

Summary: Some things are easy, some things aren't. It can take time to learn what is important.

Warnings: Smut. Maybe not as much as you'd expect from a story thats pretty much only about sex. Some feelings. Language.

Author's Note: It took a while to get this one across the line. The first segment has been written for weeks, but I lacked inspiration, motivation, and was a little burnt out on anything Leaf related for a little bit there. RIP 2021 season....

Thanks to all of you who kept checking in and were enthusiastic about the little snippet I posted. Kind of kicked my writing into gear today!

I crave your feedback - this is weird and disjointed and very personal in a lot of ways, so I'd love to hear what you think!

---

Sex with Auston is easy - that's never been the issue between you.

This thing started with sex - you connected on tinder, got to talking for a couple of days, then went out for drinks.... That wound up with him in your bed, having arguably the best sex of your life.

That first night, lying hot and sweaty and completely satiated, you'd be lying if the thought didn't cross your mind that you could do this for the rest of your life.

It was that good.

-

You don't keep a list of things to try, but you kind of keep a list of things to try.

-

Some things that make the sex with Auston so good:

He's the first guy to encourage you to use your vibrator on your clit while he's fucking you - it's not every single time - sometimes coordination isn't possible when he's fucking into you so good but those times when he's pressing deep into you, hands on your breasts, grip firm just the way you like, and you've just got your vibe pressed to your clit on a low setting and you just shake apart.... Those are good times.

His dick is huge. Like he's big to start, but then he grows. It honestly took a bit of work to find angles that didn't have him ramming your cervix each time, but once you did... He fills you up so good.

He loves to eat you out. You've had your fair share of mediocre oral, but there's something about the way he just goes for it, lets you twist your fingers in his too long hair, makes these little noises into you, that just really does it for you. He'll open you up with his thumbs and just dive his tongue deep inside of you, then move up and basically caress your clit with his tongue. If you're honest you can't even fathom what he's actually doing, it just feels insane.

He lets you ride his face. Now, it's not an every time thing, mostly because if you're going to expend energy on riding him, really what you want is his cock buried inside your aching slit. But sometimes, he'll settle himself on the bed, and you'll just climb on top of him, grip the headboard, and just ride.

-

You might love him.

(Maybe that's why it's good)

-

So the sex has never been the problem.

The problem lies in the in between bits.

In the moments when you're feeling insecure about his fame, and his looks, and the company he keeps. You're not a party girl - you'll go out to the bar once in a while, but people, everywhere, is not really your scene. You know he likes to go out, especially after wins. You know he likes to drink. And sure, sometimes he'll text you, and he'll end up at your place late at night. But sometimes he won't. And so you wonder.

It's also the moments where he just shuts down, internalizes, and won't communicate. You're not one for talking about your feelings, but you do believe in communicating when it's about things that affect someone else! Case in point: you send him a message in the morning on what you know is his off day - he doesn't even read it let alone respond until 8pm. You had asked him if he wanted to meet up for afternoon drinks.

It's also the moments when he says stupid immature shit, when you realize that, no matter how great a family he comes from, he's still a rich, entitled man-child that doesn't really understand the value of a dollar. And that irks you.

A lot.

-

But.

You're just fooling around - keeping it casual.

But.

-

He takes you out to the cottage with some of his boys. The season ended in heartbreak, they're splitting up for the summer, they want to blow off some steam.

You spend the days lazing by the lake, lying in hammocks in the yard, sneaking off for a "picnic" in the woods. And by picnic you mean Auston laid you out on a blanket and ate you out until you couldn't take it.

You spend the nights getting high sitting out by the fire, leaving unsubtly to go back inside to fuck.

It's probably around day 3 when you realize you're legitimately, 100% in love with this guy.

Day 5 you head back to the city, and haven't really talked to him about how you feel.

He leaves for Arizona the next morning.

-

He's not your boyfriend.

He doesn't know you fell for him.

-

The first night you had sex with him – the first night of the rest of your life – you remember thinking you've never felt this full.

Now, months later, you feel like you're empty.

Anytime you think of him, it's like your pussy just clenches involuntarily around what it thinks should be there, inside of you.

You want him so badly, so deeply, and you don't even have a real claim to him because you couldn't open up and tell him that something had changed.

You catch yourself scrolling insta late at night, looking to see if he's posted something that might hint he's out with someone else.

You hate that you're like this.

-

(You never see anything, for the record)

-

He comes back to Toronto in August.

That honestly catches you by surprise.

More so because you're just home on a Saturday afternoon, watching TV when he knocks on your door. Pretty much the last person you were expecting to see, but you can't deny that your heart ends up in your throat at the sight of him, tanned, bulked up, and looking at you like THAT.

"What..." you start.

"Faith" he breathes out.

You don't understand.

He walks forward into your apartment, crowding you back against the other wall of your tiny entryway.

You're still so caught up in him being here. The way he said your name...

You look up at him.

He just presses himself against you and crushes you to him in a hug. You feel him everywhere. The faint spicy scent of his cologne, the heat of his body, the puff of his breath against your neck where his head is pressing.

Engulfed - your brain provides.

"I missed you" he mutters into your neck.

-

Your brain is going a mile a minute.

How is he here? Why didn't he tell you he was coming back? He doesn't need to be back for weeks. Why is he here? What is happening?

You push him back a little. Not off of you entirely, just enough to give you some space to breathe.

"Auston, what?" You try again.

He looks down at you.

Swallows.

"I..." He starts.

Swallows again.

"I needed to see you, Faith."

He looks... Nervous?

"Aus... What's going on?" You ask him, heart racing out of your chest.

He swears.

"I might be reading this thing wrong, this thing we have, but... I want you to be mine."

You feel like you've been hit with a brick.

All you can do is stare at him as your mind struggles to keep up. You feel yourself reaching for him.

"Aus. Yes. Of course."

He blinks. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You reach for his hand and pull him to the bedroom.

-

Sex is easy, with you and Auston.

You've never been afraid to ask for what you want. He's never been shy to ask for what he wants. And usually that lines up.

But for the first time since all this started, you feel almost shy with him.

Without discussing it, you both get naked pretty damn quickly. There's a second or twenty where you're just looking at him, drinking in his broad shoulders, his stomach muscles, his trim hips and his thick thighs. God, do you want him.

You might say that last part out loud, from the way he laughs and just picks you up and tosses you on the bed.

You've been soaked since you opened your door, and you're impatient to feel him again. He looks at you and you just whimper his name and he smiles, hitches up your legs, and slides slowly, so slowly, inside you

“Fuck, Aus" you hear yourself.

"You feel so good, baby" he groans out, letting you get used to him stretching you out, leaning down to press a filthy open-mouthed kiss to your lips. He bites at your lips as he starts to move, driving into you in a rhythm that makes you feel so good, hitting you just right.

It’s not enough.

But before you can say anything, Auston pulls back, and changes the angle that your hips are lined up with his and suddenly he’s impossibly deeper, and you just can’t breathe with how good he feels and his hands are on your breasts, and he’s pinching your nipples just right, and you are moaning his name almost like a prayer, and it just slips out.

“Aus, I love you.”

You don’t even realize what you said until he stills for a moment, eyes snapping to yours, and he makes this noise.

“Do you mean it,” he asks.

Its not the time for it, but you’re never going to be his open another time so… “Yeah.”

“God, baby. Yes. I love you too. It’s why I came back. I just wasn’t sure…”

He moves back so he can kiss you, deep and filthy. You feel him, deep inside you, and you just… cling to him. He starts fucking into you in earnest - hard and fast, kissing you the whole time, though it ends up being more like just panting into each others mouths but you can’t get enough of him.

“I’m so close,” you manage to get out.

Auston gets a hand between you and presses his thumb to your clit and you just hear yourself keening.

“I love how you feel around me,” he groans out. “Come for me.”

It doesn’t take long.

You shake apart underneath him, and you feel him pulse inside you and it’s just so much and you can feel tears leaking out from the corner of your eyes, and you just feel so much in that moment.

It’s so much.

-

So sex has never been an issue.

But now it is so much more.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.  

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.  

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”  

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.  

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

[neonponders]

Here’s part 1 and the soulmates comic that inspired all this.

I’d also like to thank the Harringrove community for giving me mutuals who enable the worst best part of me 💞 You’re all fantastic 💗

• • • • • • •

Steve’s teeth clenched as his shoulder blades hit the brick walls of the alley between the gymnasium and school building.

Their English class was only two doors down from an exit, and Billy Hargrove, of all people, gripped Steve’s jacket the moment he passed out of the classroom door, and hauled his ass outside.

Now Steve had a face full of California freckles that made the accompanying blue eyes look like tropical waters. Billy had been a menace ever since he got to this town, and all of Hawkins’ fields didn’t leave enough room for the both of them, apparently. Shoving Steve around during gym. Parking next to him like the noise of his frigging Camaro would eclipse the humble BMW’s existence.

Billy released him but stayed crowded in his space as he ordered, “Get a pen.”

“What?”

“A pen, Harrington. I know you have one.”

Yeah, I just failed a test with it, he thought bitterly, but he’d also been using it to talk to Billy Freaking Hargrove all morning. He pulled it out of his binder and bit the cap to push the end into it -

“OW. Don’t - ” Steve shoved him back a step, interrupting the zagged line Billy was scoring into his hand. Into Steve’s hand. “ - press that hard. Jesus Christ.”

He waved said hand in front of Billy’s face. “It’s real, all right? It’s me. It’s me! What? Did you expect to be taller than me or some - ”

Steve’s head knocked the brick this time when Billy shoved him back, fisting his shirt to the point of stretching the fibers

And kissing Steve’s mouth like he had the water in a desert.

Everything Billy did was aggressive, so he supposed this shouldn’t be much of a surprise, but 

But the stubble scraping against Steve’s chin sent sparks launching down his spine. Soft lips with a little edge of teeth, and Billy’s warmth radiating through their shirts into Steve’s chest...

He tried to lean forward, to adjust the kiss, to give his neck some space, but Billy caged him in. Steve’s nose pressed into his cheek and his hands found Billy’s denim jacket to get his own grip and shoved Billy back by his own kiss.

But the guy who doodled on his body, an artist who couldn’t eat cake and liked authors who waxed romantically - Steve’s special person - was a slab of muscle dressed in denim and leather. He held onto Steve’s front while his other hand framed his jaw and man-handled him back into place.

“Billy,” Steve tried. He stopped just shy of Steve’s mouth, like he intended to claim Steve’s oxygen as well as his space. “Gimme some space. There are bricks back here.”

Steve registers Billy’s pretty, long, long and pretty lashes moving before he sees the expression behind them. The look Billy has. Like he’s deciding between one type of aggression and another.

“You’ve been in my skin for years. You can handle some bricks.”

He starts kissing Steve again, and for all the good he’s giving, he gets spittle and laughter in return. When he finally retreats back to those millimeters of space, Steve giggles, “You’re so conceited, I swear to god.”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been.”

“I thought you were so sweet. Always drawing me things.”

“I have my moods.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Steve laughed breathily and pivoted his face before Billy could kiss him again. He wedged his jaw beside Billy’s neck and held onto the back of his jacket as he made the guy carry his weight.

“What are you doing?”

“Hugging you.”

“I always knew you were a sap.”

Steve smiled a little even if Billy did not see it. He leaned his head into Billy’s, feeling the soft pillow of his hair, the curve of his ear. “I didn’t think I’d ever meet you. I’m glad I did.”

Like Billy’s marking on his skin, Steve listened to his silence but felt his fingertips drawing on his backside.

And if Steve expected Billy to relax or be nicer to him

He was dead wrong.

Billy got worse.

Steve had been told more than once that he was needy, touchy-feely, thrived on attention, but Billy was something else. Steve woke up with a full rose drawn on his forehead. He was almost late to school from washing it off. Then Billy stole his lunch. Outright took Steve’s tray off the table and went who-knows-where; Steve had to get back to world geography class or he’d fail the class for too many skips.

Then came gym. Word had clearly spread that Steve and Billy were spoken for, and Steve had never witnessed teenage boys shower faster in his life. Steve glanced around, just now moving his soap bar over his arm while Billy smirked fondly at him from under his own nozzle. "For no reason, have you ever done anything sexy in public?"

"Ate a girl out during a homecoming game."

That knocked Billy's features down a notch, and Steve laughed, "I'm not blowing you in these disgusting bathrooms."

Billy scoffed and twisted his water off. "I guess it should've landed that you were a prude when you had to be somewhere without markings on your body."

Steve flicked his eyes at the ceiling, because Billy was hot - a fact he already knew, but now he had hours of experience writing all over that rippling skin. And Billy’s hair curled really pretty when it was wet.

Steve liked to practice decency, okay.

He did let his gaze drift and fall to land on him, though, when he replied, “I have standards. High ones. Maybe stop complaining and consider yourself fortunate.”

Billy lingered for a while longer, just absorbing that before strolling out of the communal shower.

Billy definitely got worse.

Grinding pens into his hand until Steve threw himself out of bed in the middle of the night to turn his light on and read: Come outside. Pool. 

And yeah, Steve marched his ass downstairs in his slippers and robe because it was his own damn house and he liked soft things. And because he genuinely didn’t know if Billy would or would not throw a rock at his window if he didn’t get dressed fast enough.

Billy had already found the control panel and turned the pool lights on. He took lethargic steps around the water as Steve slid the glass door closed and crossed his arms. “You know, I’m all for staying up late, but not for my sleep being interrupted.”

Billy ignored that to kneel down and wave a hand through the water. “Didn’t know you had a pool.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got a bed too. You wanna use it?”

Billy laughed and stood back up - to start removing his clothes. “I want to go swimming first.”

Steve exhaled tiredly and let his face fall into his hands. “Billy, why am I out here?”

He got his answer in the form of Billy gripping the sash around his waist. He didn’t undo it, but pulled so Steve’s hips lurched forward. “What’s under this?”

“My tired ass that wants to sleep so I can keep up with the new kid in Hawkins.”

Billy chuckled and slipped his hand inside the folds. Steve bowed a little against the cooler hand wandering his bare skin. Cradling his naked waist. “What’s he like?”

“The wrong kind of pain in my ass.”

He’d caught Billy off guard with that one. Billy coughed a laugh and his chuckles dwindled as he let his perusal of Steve’s body loosen the robe. Then he pulled Steve to him so his mouth could press slow kisses over the slope of his shoulder. Steve’s head fell back when those lips found the tiny moles on his throat.

Steve’s arms encompassed him and he felt the familiar, soft press of Billy’s ear against his cheek. “I’m tired.”

“I want to swim.”

“You’re already naked. Go ahead.”

“You can’t think you’re going back inside without getting wet.”

“And you’re not getting in bed with me before rinsing in the shower. We’re both high maintenance.”

Steve swam in the pool.

Billy wore his robe and slippers into the house.

They showered together and, to Steve’s delight, Billy snuggled in close without putting his damp hair on Steve’s chest. The latter fell asleep with a large arm over his diaphragm and ocean breaths in his ear.

Steve woke up to the wet sensation of Billy drawing on his chest with his markers. Instead of opening his eyes, Steve mumbled, “If you’re drawing more penises...”

Billy hummed with mirth. “Just some unicorns humping each other.”

Steve earned a yelp when he reared up and tackled Billy to the bed. He kissed him silly and tasted his soul mate’s skin in his own bed. He made Billy’s hair a fluffy nightmare by the time he was through, and licked and sucked all of his muscles into jelly before he went to the bathroom to relieve himself...

Two birds under his collarbones framed a script spanning over his chest.

I can’t say sweet things. But you are beautiful.

[ill-skillsgard]

I need Faust and Faith's reunion after he's done touring 👉👈 No pressure or anything. I just miss them a lot!

I always miss Fausty boy! I have some other prompts I wanted to incorporate into this one, but it was getting too long. I hope you enjoy!

+

Warning: 18+ mentions of public sex, mature language, anti-religious overtones, mentions of blood, violence, death, and drug use.

Summary: Faith goes to her first black metal show and asks Faust about the black circle.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

The duelling guitars screeched through twin stacks of speakers and filled the auditorium with malfeasance. Faith had never witnessed such a carnal reaction. As she watched from the side stage, the crowd below opened into a whirling pit of black-clad showgoers, pushing, jumping and banging against each other. The drums kicked into a blistering rhythm, and her attention turned toward the man she barely recognized with white and black makeup painting his face like the ghost of a demon.

Faust punished his drumkit with expert precision, his arms blurring in the chaos of their first song. His black hair swung as he banged his head without missing a beat. Horned and studded limbs spilled over the metal barricade, tongues lolled, and eyes lit with blissful fury. The singer's growls seemed to rise from the depths of hell, a monster shrieking at its thralls for more destruction.

Even with earplugs in, Faith felt the music blowing back in waves, shaking the column of her throat and turning her brain to mush. She dared slip one plug out to hear the true volume and quickly stuffed it back in when the intensity struck.

During the ambient interludes between songs, the crowd roared still. A few hundred people raised their hands, praising the men on stage. It reminded her of church, how they would let their eyes roll back, chanting the hymns and facing their palms skyward. This was no church she had ever set foot inside. The walls were painted black, the floor sticky from spilled beer, and its congregation made her gathering's displays of loyalty seem demure. The air reeked of salty skin and malt embedded in the paint from nights like this.

Faith saw people wearing shirts with Faust's band logo on the front, and a burst of pride warmed her belly. Though she was remarkably out of place, there was an odd sense of welcome. She could run headfirst into the crowd and get swallowed up and spit out like anyone else.

When they finished their set, Faust retired his drumsticks to a holder, chugged an entire bottle of beer and took a brief bow to the crowd before walking off stage. Faith bounced as he approached and scooped her off the floor, smearing her face with paint from around his mouth. When he set her down, his lips were partially visible through the now grey muck.

"How was it?" Faust asked.

"You guys are amazing. That's was so cool, babe!"

"Ah, you're just saying that."

"No, really! I can't believe how crazy they went for you!"

Faust sneered playfully, though their reception had been one for the books. "Probably 'cause half the crowd are friends of ours."

"Doesn't matter. You still kicked ass."

Faust's smile was unbreakable from a show well played and seeing his girlfriend waiting for him at the side of the stage. He led her to the green room as stagehands and managers nodded them through and let her dab the corpse paint off her face in the bathroom. Faust sopped up the sweat in his hair with a towel and changed his stage clothes before Faith returned. His bandmates soon joined them, and the chatter was unintelligible. People from other bands came in to talk and congratulate the young group on their first cross-country tour, and soon the back was filled with people hanging VIP badges from their pockets.

Faust pulled Faith from the bedlam before the room grew too hot. They made their way to the main floor and the rows of merchandise tables. Faith couldn't help but feel privileged to have access to the other side of the tables where Faust told her she could stash her coat and purse while a lineup of fans waited to purchase t-shirts and albums. Admirers pulled Faust away several times to take photos and shake hands. Faith watched in awe as people took turns posing with her boyfriend, who stayed looking stoic in his half-melted face paint. Her boyfriend. People from all walks of life wanted proof they'd met him, asking him to sign album covers and tour posters.

When Faust broke away from the clamour of excited metal fans, he took Faith's hand and pulled her through the crowd to a stairwell guarded by security. He flashed his tour badge, and the guard permitted them to the balcony where a few other musicians sat in a less crowded area.

"Come on, let's go outside. I need a fucking smoke," Faust said.

They went through a set of metal doors to an outdoor balcony where two men leaned against the railing, passing a joint and chatting. One spotted Faust, and a smile cracked over his face.

"Hey, Faust. Great show, man. We watched from the balcony. You guys were fucking killer," the man passed the joint to the drummer.

He hauled a significant bout of smoke into his lungs, then expelled it into the night air, handing it back with a nod.

The man refused. "Pass it to the lady."

"She's good," Faust said.

"I'll take a hit," Faith countered.

Faust glanced at her, brow raised high. "You sure?" He chuckled.

"Yes. I'll be fine."

Faust handed her the joint and turned to his fellow musicians. "Thanks. Glad you guys enjoyed the set."

As Faith inhaled, the other man turned to her and offered his hand to shake. "Hey, I'm Janne."

"Faith," she mouthed around a lungful of searing smoke.

"This is Yosh," Janne gestured at the man who'd initially offered Faust the joint. "Good to meet you."

"Is this your girlfriend, Fausty?"

"Yeah. She's my girl."

"Aw, that's cute. Didn't take you for the relationship type, to be honest. You like this scary son of a bitch?" Yosh asked.

Faith giggled as she looked up at the towering man dressed in black while he lit a cigarette. "He's not that scary. At least not to me," said Faith.

"Good man to have by your side at a show. You might get trampled down there."

"This is actually my first show."

Yosh choked on a hit and coughed, "really? And you came to a black metal show? That's ballsy."

"Well, it's not really my thing, but I wanted to see them play. I came from out of town just to be here tonight," Faith said proudly.

"Oh, right. You guys are from the green belt, right? Or should I say, the black circle?" Janne tittered.

Faust's eyes grew stony. "No. I'm not part of that shit. Bunch of fucking posers."

"We were just talking about the church fire there a couple weeks ago. You guys are known for that, aren't you?"

"I don't know. Guess so," Faust shrugged.

"They said there was a body found after they put out the fire, and it was nailed to some pieces of wood...like a cross or something. Can you believe that shit? How metal is that?"

Faith swallowed. She had heard the news break the day after the fire before they announced the unidentified body and after Faust had surprised her at the bus stop. They had prayed about it in church the following week and set up a collection to bulldoze the wreckage and reconstruct the chapel even bigger than before. Her mother was so stricken from the news that Faith had to spend a night at her parents' house consoling her while her father bad-mouthed the city's youth.

Bunch of heathen Satan-worshippers in this town. If I'd have known how disgusting some of these people are, I'd have never moved us out here.

Faith, her sisters and their mother all huddled on the sofa watching reruns of Full House while Stan stood hard-backed at the front window, peering out every few minutes as if the culprit might attack them next.

Oh, Stan, you don't know who did it. You can't point the finger when the police haven't even updated the community. Give the embers a chanced to cool. Besides, it's places like these that need the most help. We'll raise the money. I just hope to God they catch the people who did this.

All Faith could think about as she ate her sundae next to her sister was what she was doing the night after the fire. While the fire department was busy putting out the flames across town, she was pressed against a brick wall getting fucked by one of the heathen Satan-worshippers her father despised. She tried not to connect dots that had no business forming any kind of picture. Faust's appearance had been a coincidence.

I'll tell you who did this... It's that damned black circle. They've done it before, and they'll do it again.

Faust waved a hand in front of Faith's face, and she flinched from her reveries. "Babe? You there?"

"Oh, sorry," she laughed. "Kind of zoned out."

"Wanna head back inside?"

Faith didn't realize she was shivering until Faust rubbed her upper arms. "Sure. Yeah, let's do that."

"One puff of a joint, and you're on another planet, huh? Good seeing you Janne, Yosh... We should tour again."

"Yeah, man. As soon as possible. We're always on the road. We'd love to have you out for as many gigs as you guys can handle."

Faust nodded and clasped hands with both men before urging Faith along with a palm on her bottom. Once they made it inside, he snuck his fingers under her skirt and pinched her hard enough to give her a jolt but not to hurt.

"Faust!"

"What? No one's looking. Hey, you wanna check out our tour bus?"

Faith went to the balcony railing and saw the next band setting up their gear. She pointed below and turned to Faust. "Won't we miss the next band?"

"You actually wanna stay and watch?"

"Uh, yeah! This is my first show. I wanna see all the bands."

"All right. We can stay up here or go to the floor. But I'm warning you, it can get ruthless down there."

"I want to go down. It looks fun."

"Then we have to go now. We'll try to get right up front where you won't get swallowed in a circle pit."

"Really?" Faith gasped. "Like, right up front at the barricade?"

"Sure, why not? If you want the full experience. I'll stand right behind you and make sure crowd-surfers don't land on your head. Then after, I'll show you the bus, and...I dunno...Probably fuck."

"Oh my goodness, Faust. Yeah, right!"

"I'm serious. I'd fuck you right here if there weren't people around."

Emboldened by his suggestion, Faith whirled around and stared up at him with her brows lowered. "What's all this about the black circle?"

Faust scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"I've heard it mentioned before and that you're part of it. I just wanna know. Is it some kind of gang?"

"Do I look like I'm in a fucking gang? No. It's just some dumb shit they made up in high school."

"They as in your friends?"

"It's stupid and means nothing."

Faith stood in place. "Well, they're saying that church burned down because of your friends. Aren't you afraid someone might ask you questions?"

"I'm not afraid of shit because I've been on tour this whole time."

"Faust—"

"What did I tell you about the twenty questions? Now, do you wanna go watch the show or do you wanna keep talking about irrelevant shit?"

Dissatisfied with his response, Faith clammed up and followed Faust to the main floor. They wriggled through the tightening crowd and got upfront before the lights lowered, and a gust of smoke covered the stage. Ominous chanting heralded in a band dressed in black hoods. Faith watched, awestruck, but in the back of her mind, thoughts of the black circle fermented, giving off a foul smell she couldn't ignore.

After the headlining band opened with pyrotechnics and the frontman tossing a skull of pig's blood over the crowd, Faust took Faith around back, where the tour buses formed a barrier between the street and the venue. He led her inside and turned on the light to reveal the interior in a state of disarray. Beer bottles overflowed in the sink, ramen noodle wrappers littered the floor, and spiked leather decorum hung over seats and tables. There was a shredded porn magazine, its contents pinned to the wall and drawn over with a black marker, breasts shooting fire and snakes slithering out of places that made Faith blush.

"Sorry about the smell. Touring always has a distinct odour of unwashed balls and puke."

Faith tried not to touch any surface until Faust showed her to the back lounge area, where they sat and looked at each other in prolonged silence. Faith reined in a smile while her boyfriend sat back and studied her face.

"I'm glad you came. Sorry that it's probably more chaotic than you expected."

"It's okay. I'm having fun."

"You sure? I know it's not really your scene."

"You're my scene," Faith said.

He reached for her hand. Faith thought he meant to hold her, but he tugged her closer instead, straddling her over his lap. His hands came up under her skirt and over her ass while they kissed. Faust pulled away as she rocked her hips forth and placed his hands on her hips.

"So, how's school?"

"You're really asking me about school when we haven't seen each other in weeks?"

"What? Is there something else you wanna do?"

"I think you know what I want."

"Yeah, but I want you to say it."

Faith peered down the hall, past the bunks, toward the front of the bus. "What if someone comes in?"

"Not like my band hasn't walked in on you sucking my cock before."

"Oh my gosh, don't remind me."

Faust darkened, pulled air through his teeth. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course, I missed you. How is that even a question?"

He tilted his hips up and let Faith drop when he relaxed. She tugged his shirt up to appreciate the trail of hair leading down from his navel.

"What did you miss the most?"

"Your big, throbbing heart," Faith giggled. "I missed cuddling with you and going on walks together. Waking up with you beside me. Your cooking."

Faust pulled her down for a hug. "All right, all right. I get it. You wanna fuck, just not in the bus."

"Do your bandmates fuck girls in here?"

Laughter burst from his mouth as he rocked Faith back and forth. "They fucking wish."

The couple chuckled until another silence proceeded. Faith saw the fiery look in Faust's eyes, the appetite for her body that never tapered, his joy from having her there on his tour bus. Yet, all Faith saw was a building on fire, flames flickering behind his green stare. She smothered the thoughts with a kiss Faust took for permission to explore under her skirt again. Maybe she could kill her suspicions by reminding herself how much he loved her, the lengths he would go to protect her.

Voices yelled outside the bus, distracting Faith but not Faust, who rolled beneath her hips, oblivious to the arousal shooting through his groin.

"Yeah, come on, baby. Pull my cock out and sit on it for me. It'll be quick."

"Faust!" Someone shouted outside of the bus.

Faith pushed on his chest and perked toward the sound.

"Where the fuck is that asshole? First, he fucks off for an entire day, loses his phone, makes us cancel a show, and now the prick can't be dicked to help load out because his bitch is here? Getting real fucking sick of the bullshit, Ola."

"Mordy, chill out, man."

The bus door opened, followed by a waft of cigarette smoke. Boot tread hammered across the floor, and Mordy swayed through to the back, scoffing when he saw Faust with his girlfriend perched on his lap.

"You wanna take apart your drumkit, or are you just gonna let it sit in the way of everyone's gear? Oh, sorry, should have known you were too busy to be fucking bothered."

Faust lifted Faith off his thighs, and she bounced on the sofa as he shot up and stared Mordy down. The bass player didn't flinch.

"What? What're you gonna do, Faust? Punch me out? Good thing it's our last show. Wouldn't want your personal business getting in the way of the biggest tour of our fucking lives so far."

"You don't know shit, so I suggest you shut your mouth."

"No, I'm not gonna shut my mouth. Someone has to stand up to you, and none of these pussies will. Go load out your fucking gear, man!"

Faust smelled whiskey on Mordy's breath. He was far too sober to start a fight with the bass player and nodded, shouldering past him. Mordy crashed into the wall and cursed as the drummer stomped off the bus, leaving Faith fidgeting with the edge of her skirt and unsure if she should follow. Mordy scoffed at her and exited the bus after Faust, shouting until she no longer heard him.

When Faust returned, Faith stood up and wrang her wrists. "Should I leave?"

"We're both leaving," Faust muttered as he tore open the zipper on his backpack and scrounged up his clothes and stage effects to stuff inside. He ducked into the small fridge and took four bottles of beer, sticking two in the holders of his bag and pocketing the other two inside his leather jacket.

"Come on. We're out of here."

"But, neither of us have a car, and we're far from home," Faith said.

"Call a cab."

Outside of the bus, guitar cases and boxes of merch waited for loading. Faust opened a tote, wrenched open a steel moneybox and took some of the cash inside. He found Faith's coat and purse and passed them to her before kicking a hole into the plastic container. Mordy and Ola noticed this as Faust walked away with Faith in tow.

"Hey, asshole! What do you think you're doing? You can't just fucking take off with the merch money!"

Faust turned around, grabbed his crotch and flipped them off. "Suck my dick, fuckbags. Find a new drummer."

[shorkbrian]

The game had been rigged from the start.

Prelude- Inspired by that one scene in Pirates Of The Caribbean where those two pirate lumps find Elizabeth hiding in a cupboard lol.

Had this flipping song stuck inside my stupid meme brain while doing this https://youtu.be/k4V3Mo61fJM

Pairing - Bakugou/Fem!Reader/Todoroki

Warnings - Implied NSFW, but no descriptions

Hope you enjoy :) Thank you for reading!

- Brick

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You opened your mouth slightly, trying to calm yourself and ease your breathing. You had heard somewhere that breathing through your mouth made it so there was no noise, and right now you were trying to be as quiet and still as possible. Squished into the blanket storage in the living room, it was hard to see any light through the crack in the door,  but that just made this a better hiding place. It’d be pointless if someone would be able to see you just by giving the living room a quick once-over. You felt like crying, your heart slamming against your chest every time you heard hushed voices, or the sound of doors being opened and then slammed.  It felt like forever since you crawled into the tiny space. You hoped to god they didn’t find you. Even just thinking about the possibility of them finding you sent a vicious shiver through your body, making you aware of the pins and needles forming in your cramped legs. You could handle numbness. It’d be a small price to pay for some respite from the attention of your two captors.

Bakugou had come home in a bad mood, slamming the door and causing you to flinch in surprise. Todoroki had barely looked up from his book, one hand still gently petting your hair. While you were still unused to the blonde’s violatile moods, the man holding you firmly against his side while he read a book was not.

“Should I even ask what set you off this time?”

Bakugou kicked off his shoes, giving such an intense glare in Todoroki’s direction that you would honestly not be surprised if the heterochromatic man didn’t burst into flames.

“Shit doesn’t “set me off”  you fucking peppermint.” Bakugou seethed. He stomped over to the armchair that was closest to the couch you and Todoroki occupied before collapsing into it with a huff.  He crossed his arms over his chest, giving you a once over that had you pressing closer to Todoroki. You hated both of your kidnappers, but (most of the time) Todoroki tried his best to not cause you pain. 

“Had to deal with god-awful Deku again.”  Bakugou continued, “His asshat of an agency wants him and I to team up for some promotional pansy-ass campaign or something. Hell if I know. All I know is I ain’t doin’ shit with that goddamn loser.”

“I see.”

Todoroki wasn’t listening. When it came to Bakugou? You wish you didn’t have to listen either. But when the blonde man gestured for you to come sit on his lap with a curl of his lip and a flick of his hand, you knew better than to ignore him. 

You had learned the hard way that the two (especially Bakugou, the sadistic little cunt.) handed out cruel punishments at the slightest slip up. Even though their system made absolutely no sense. Some days you would be punished for not taking a shower with one of them, even if you had been sleeping, or for looking at the tv if a movie was playing, because you should’ve been focusing on them. Like how being cuddled be a reward one day, and a punishment the next. They were fickle men, always changing their rules and expectations, and expecting you to reach impossible and confusing standards.

Bakugou had held you for a while as he calmed down, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones underneath your oversized tee. You squirmed when they wandered too far, fingering the waistband of your shorts. Bakugou would huff good-naturedly, then return to smoothing the skin above your hipbones.  It was only when he started laying sloppy, open mouthed kisses along your neck, beginning to encroach on your shoulder and collarbone, did you try to wriggle out his grasp. By the steadily-growing bulge pressing against the small of your back, you could tell where this was going.

“Ple-ase don’t Kats-“

“Shut the fuck up. You’ll enjoy this.”

You knew for fact that if you felt any pleasure, it would only be because he would force it out of you.

“Bakugou, I’ve already played with her several times today. She’s probably sore.” You hadn’t been expecting Todoroki to chime in. His duo-colored eyes were fixated on the scene that you and Bakugou made, a slight flush marring his otherwise impeccable appearance. He had been watching Bakugou grope you.

“Fuckin’ ”played with her” eh? Well I’ve been working all damn day and I want a little playtime too.” 

That’s how the arrangement went. They traded off each day, one of them staying home with you while the other went and worked. They were still Pro-Heros.

Your face immediately heated up as Bakugou continued to handle you roughly. Todoroki had indeed, “played with you” and you were very, very sore.  He had made you shower together, then he had bent you over the kitchen counter in the middle of helping you make lunch. The man had even played with you while the two of you watched an incredibly cheesy romance movie, making you cry as his lust seemed insatiable. 

Todoroki set down his book,  crossing his legs gracefully as Bakugou spun you around so you were face-to-face with the muscular blonde. “What if we played a game? Hide and seek?…… if she stays hidden long enough she can go to bed? If we find her we’ll carry on with our…. evening activities.”

Bakugou grunted, his hands slipping underneath your oversized tee to palm roughly at your chest. You tried to keep your hiccuping sobs quiet. When had you started crying?

“Shit, you’d really leave me out to dry like that Half-N-Half?”

Todoroki shrugged.

“I doubt she’d win. In the event that she did, I wouldn’t mind helping you out.” Bakugou’s wandering hands never paused, but you could see the wheels turning in his head while he weighed the pros and cons of the situation. After a second he sighed heavily, before withdrawing his hands and roughly yanking your shirt back into place. 

“Hm, alright. Let’s fucking play a game.”

That’s how you ended up in the blanket cabinet, knees scrunched to your chest, trying to breathe as quietly as you could and hoping that you weren’t found before the kitchen timer rang. You had watched Bakugou set it to 20 minutes, and while it seemed entirely too long, the second you had opened your mouth to protest the blonde had shot you a feral grin, adjusting it so that there was now only 19 minutes. You got the memo and clamped your jaw shut with an audible click.

You could’ve sworn more time than that had passed.

Were you surprised when they found you? Not really. You knew it would happen at some point. You had just thought that the timer would ring before one of them dragged you out of the cupboard. Bakugou had found you, the man crouching as he opened up the door, his red eyes glinting with desire the second they fell on you. You had almost crumpled then, and basically did, except the shock of being suddenly pulled free and then hefted into Bakugou’s strong arms had you reeling and struggling to orient yourself. The fuzzy pain as your legs regained feeling distracted you from Bakugou’s breathless rambling about what the rest of the evening was going to look like. It was probably for the best that you weren’t able to listen.

“Icyhot! Get your ass in here!” Bakugou yelled over his shoulder, setting you down gently on the kitchen counter. A moment later, Todoroki sauntered in, the look in his eyes as they roved over you making your stomach go queasy. Bakugou had a smirk on his face as he reached for your shirt, only getting it halfway off and tangled in your arms before you were whining for him to stop.

“Wait! Wait I- please! Can I- Bakugou wait plea-“

“Holy shit, what now? Me and freedom M&Ms over here won fair ’n square.”

“I was in there for more than twenty minutes, I swear! Please, did the - did the timer go off?? And we didn’t hear it??”  You gestured towards your last hope, the kitchen timer settled on a different countertop. Todoroki picked it up, his nimble fingers dancing around it as he turned it over.

“Huh, funny…….”  He tossed it over his shoulder, barely flinching as it hit the ground with a loud crack. Your brow furrowed in confusion as he stalked towards you, his hands coming to rest on the tops of your thighs. Four predatory hands were on you now, and you shivered as the two men seemed to inch closer, invading every single inch of your personal space.   “I guess I forgot to press start….”  

Bakugou’s smirk turned into a full-on smile, his hands whipping off your shirt faster than you could blink as you cried out. Todoroki started working on your shorts, and you started sobbing and trying to push their hands away, despite knowing that it would do absolutely nothing.

The two men were going to have you.

The game had been rigged from the start.