#lots of evil plans for him

[glitchtricks94]

Addiction is weirdly cathartic to write because I rarely ever look so forward to ripping someone to shreds using their heart to farm the pain. Gyokko has irked me in ways nobody can really do. I like the idea of taking him down a few notches.

[brekitten]

The Family Plan, dpxdc edition

Danyal Al Ghul walked away from the assassin life when he was 13, just a year after Damian was sent to their father at age 9. Well, “walked away” probably wasn't the best way to describe it. He had escaped, because the Heir to the Demon's Head would never be allowed to simply leave the League of Assassins.

It wasn't too long after he escaped into the United States that he met Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton. She and her parents were attending a scientist convention of some sort, and she had bumped into Danyal at the entrance. Soon enough, she was introducing him to her parents. Danyal Al Ghul soon became Daniel “Danny” Fenton.

He had only planned on using them to craft a fake identity, so the League had less of a chance of finding him. He didn't plan to get attached, but he did. He didn't regret it.

Danny was fourteen when he died in the portal and became Phantom. He was fifteen when the League finally found him. Grandfather and Mother were not pleased.

[sholmeser]

ary scheffer / justus knetch / snake & ocelot

[yujeong]

At the end of the day, this is what's most important to me.

[bonkalore]

Poor little meow meow literally moments before he commits multiple atrocities~ <3 uwu

SPOILERS: he sacrifices Shak and then opens the coffer with all the Dread magic and unleashes hell on earth

[maddymoreau]

Why is everyone in Fallout 3 extremely hot

[xenon-demon]

I... have no idea what this is. No that's a lie I know exactly what this is, it's 2.6k of a Frozen AU with Steve as Elsa and Robin as Anna that I wrote in a fugue state after seeing a friend's production of Frozen: The Musical tonight. I have several WIPs I'm supposed to be working on and this is exactly none of them. Bone apple teeth. (Also I'm genuinely unsure if my usual crew of beloved enablers would even WANT to be tagged in this so... for now I'm not doing a taglist, and if I write any more of this AU I'll do one next time 😂)

“Steve!”

At the sound of his name, the Prince — now King, and boy is Robin going to take a while to get used to that — turns his head towards her. Seeing it's Robin, Steve gives his apologies to whatever noble he was talking to and steps away from their conversation. He makes his way over to Robin in just a few short strides, but his eyes flick back and forth between Robin and her new... well. She doesn't really want to think about what Eddie now is to her. In any case, she can already see a questioning frown start to brew on Steve's face, meaning this will be a much harder sell than she expected.

“Robin!” Steve exclaims, his gaze almost immediately sliding over to Eddie and giving him a once-over. He sounds markedly more subdued when he continues, “I see you've... made a friend.”

“Well, I wouldn't say a friend exactly!” Robin laughs, shrill and stilted, and gives Eddie's arm a pointed squeeze when he doesn't immediately join in. Getting the hint, Eddie finally starts laughing along. Hopefully Steve didn't notice her hinting, since she's had her arm wrapped around Eddie's since before she even called him over.

Steve raises an eyebrow at her, and shit does she need to keep this moving.

“This,” Robin announces, using the hand that's not around Eddie's arm to do a quick flourish in the direction of his face, “is Prince Edward of the Kingdom of Forest-Upon-Hills. We met at the ball tonight.”

“It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” says Eddie, trying his best to show the proper respect and bow as he does so. Robin's death grip on his arm prevents him from getting very far.

“Likewise,” Steve replies, sounding incredibly skeptical of this whole conversation. He then shoots Robin a look, which, rude, but also entirely warranted given what she's about to ask him.

Steeling herself, Robin begins to say, “Prince Edward and I-”

“Just Eddie is fine,” Eddie interrupts her, leaning in a little bit closer to her as he whispers. He's got terrible volume control, however, so she wouldn't know it was meant to be a whisper if she hadn't spent the past two hours talking to him.

“Not one for formalities, Prince Eddie?” Steve asks, the weight of his gaze finally leaving Robin's shoulders for a moment. God, she often wishes her brother was easier to read, but never as strongly as she does right now.

Eddie, meanwhile, straightens up so quickly it's like he's been electrocuted.

“Uh, not particularly, no. They grate on me,” Eddie says. He pauses for a moment, and Robin can see the deliberation on his face before he adds, “Your Majesty.”

“I'm not one for formalities either, Prince Eddie,” Steve says. His mouth twitches into a very small smile. “I prefer Steve.”

There's a pause, then, where Steve and Eddie are locked into some strange stare-down, while Robin looks on in vague exasperation. She's pretty sure she could strip naked and swing from the chandelier in the center of the ballroom and neither of them would take any notice of her. She's about to intervene, actually, because they really do not have time for whatever this is, when Eddie miraculously breaks the spell himself. He blinks a bit, looking away from Steve and back to Robin, face significantly more flushed than it was a minute ago.

“I believe you were saying something to K- to Steve, Princess?” Eddie asks, just about tripping over Steve's new title on instinct before catching himself.

Robin just barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes. She really is the bravest, most long-suffering warrior in all of Hawkins.

Putting her brave face back on, Robin turns to her brother and says, “Yes I was, thank you Eddie, I was saying that Prince Eddie and I-” and here she falters, because Steve looks back at her and meets her gaze. She swallows, trying to be subtle, and looks very pointedly at Steve's forehead instead of his eyes. She can't do this if she's looking him in the eye.

She takes another half second to compose herself, then rips the band-aid off.

“Prince Eddie and I seek your blessing for our marriage.”

“Excuse me?” Steve says, more like demands, almost choking on nothing. Robin's never seen her brother this off-kilter in her life. He doesn't even try to compose himself at  all before he says, “Robin, can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?”

Robin swallows guiltily, knowing he'll see straight through her if she agrees.

“No. Anything you want to say to me, you can say to both of us,” Robin says, and how her voice stays steady, she doesn't even know. It probably helps that she's still not looking Steve in the eye.

“Robin- I don't-” Steve interrupts himself to run his gloved hands down his face. He pauses for a moment, face completely covered by his hands, and takes a deep sigh. When he removes his hands and starts speaking again, his voice is measured. Calm. Deadly.

“Rob, you can't marry a man you just met,” Steve states. The word man falls heavy off his tongue, and Robin knew she would regret coming out as a lesbian, she just didn't think it would be like this. Squaring herself up for the best performance of her life, Robin begins her improvised speech full of bullshit to convince her brother to let her do this.

Before she can, however, Eddie chimes in with, "You can if it's true love." Steve doesn't even spare Eddie a glance, but his frown does deepen significantly. Shit.

“Steve,” Robin begins, trying very hard to stay calm, “Eddie and I have a connection unlike any I've ever felt before. I lo-love him”—shit, she could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat saying that, and judging by the almost-imperceptible twitch in Steve's eye, he knows too—“and I think it's time I start giving back to the Kingdom of Hawkins.”

“Giving back?” Steve asks, and fuck he's folding his arms across his chest now. “How exactly is this giving back to the kingdom? What you're doing is running headfirst into the first bad decision you can find.”

”I'm a bad decision?” Eddie asks. Both Robin and Steve ignore him.

“No, Steve, I'm giving back by giving the kingdom a new celebration to look forward to after your coronation,” Robin hisses. “A royal wedding is another opportunity to open the castle gates and bring the kingdom together-”

“Absolutely not,” Steve snaps, interrupting her. “We are not opening up the castle gates again for a long time.”

“Why not, Steve?” Robin snaps back. “Tonight's been great for the kingdom's morale, it's been great for you to see people and actually socialize-”

“You have no idea what's good for me, Robin,” Steve says, making her stop dead. It hurts, hearing Steve say that like it's obvious and she's stupid for not knowing it already. What hurts more is that it’s true.

Once it's clear Robin won't keep talking, Steve continues, “You asked for my blessing, and I do not give it. I don't approve of this, and if you're doing this in some misguided attempt to make me happy- quite frankly you've gone insane if you think this would make me happy.”

With that, he turns to walk away.

Okay, sure, she has no idea what Steve's whole deal is or why he's always shutting her out, but Robin is sure she knows what will help.

Sure, part of this crazy scheme is the vague idea that if Robin has a picture-perfect capable-of-bearing-children partnership, then Steve will be under less pressure himself to marry someone who can produce an heir. Maybe, with less scrutiny on his personal choices, he'll learn to relax and open up more over time. That idea falls apart pretty quickly, however, as the thought of producing an heir with a man - even one as fun to talk to as Eddie - makes her want to gouge her own eyes out. No, the real reasoning behind Robin's (admittedly insane) plan to marry someone she met two hours ago at her brother's coronation is so she has an ironclad reason for Steve to open the gates again. Sure, ideally it would've been a woman who caught her eye tonight, but she can't be picky. Robin doesn't meet anyone, especially with the castle locked up like it always is, and she has yet to think of something other than a wedding that would convince Steve to open the gates. Then Eddie came along, laughing and flirting (she thinks, at least; Robin's tried to black that part out) and professing his undying true love to her, and this was the best opportunity she was ever going to get.

And she has to convince her brother to open the gates again. Steve's been thriving tonight. He clearly loves the thrum of people, all of them dancing and laughing and enjoying themselves, and he's slowly coming out of his shell with every conversation he has with their subjects. Robin's spent more time talking to her brother tonight than she has in a long, long time. Too long for her to try to quantify it without crying.

Watching her brother turn away from her, the promise of a relationship with him going forward about to slip through her fingers, she knows she has to do something.

“Steve, wait-” Robin says, reaching out for Steve. She grabs him by the hand, feeling the soft cotton of the white gloves he always, always wears.

“Enough, Robin,” Steve says, not even looking back as he yanks his hand out of her grip. She's trying to hold on, though, so she's left holding his glove as Steve pulls his now-bare hand away from her. God, how upsetting is it that it's been years since she saw the back of her own brother's hands?

Steve swears, then, under his breath. Robin almost doesn't hear it; almost.

“Robin, give me my glove.” Steve's not asking; he's demanding. Robin can work with this.

“Not unless you talk to me about why you won't open the gates. Look at how tonight went, it's been so good for you-”

“This isn't up for debate, Robin, give me my glove,” and Steve reaches for it then, but Robin quickly holds the glove up high above her head before he can grab it.

“Why isn't it up for debate? Why do you isolate yourself all the time?” Robin's almost dancing now, twisting and turning as she tries to keep the glove away from Steve's grabbing hands. It doesn't help that he's taller than her, but she's more agile than people think, especially since Steve's in full coronation regalia right now. The material's stiff as a board at the best of times.

“You wouldn't understand, just give me the- ugh!” Steve's stopped trying to grab the glove, instead trying to restrain her and make it easier to grab.

“Maybe I would understand if you'd talk to me instead of shutting me out all the time-” Steve's almost got her in a headlock, but Robin ducks out from underneath it and quickly steps away and out of Steve's reach.

“Robin, that's enough!” Steve shouts, and then several things happen consecutively.

Steve reaches out towards Robin with his right hand, the one missing the glove.

Robin thinks she's going crazy, but- what look like snowflakes shoot out from Steve's hand where he's reached for her.

The crowd, most of whom had turned to look at Steve's shout, gasp, almost in unison.

“I- Steve-” Robin says, not quite sure where to start with the -- actually quite sizable -- pile of snow now on the ballroom floor.

“No,” Steve gasps, and Robin's never heard her brother so distraught. It makes something keen inside her, the sheer anguish in his voice. “No, no no no, this can't be happening, this can't-” Steve reaches up to pull at this hair, but more snow and ice shoots out from his hand as soon as it's pointing towards the ceiling. He flinches away from his own hand, sheer terror on his face, but with every movement Steve makes more and more snow and ice surrounds him. Within a few seconds, there's a wind picking up as well, and it's like a snowstorm is starting to form right there in the castle dining room.

The crowd, originally shocked into silence, starts to move again. Robin hears screaming, people running, shouting from the guards about an evacuation plan, but it's all faint and distorted like she's underwater. All she can focus on right now is Steve, the way his terror is only worsening by the moment.

“Steve, let me help you,” Robin calls over the roar of the crowd and the storm, taking a few steps towards him. She needs to get his attention before getting closer, the last thing she wants to do right now is startle him.

“Stay away from me!” Steve yells, holding up his hands in an instinctive 'stay back' gesture. Yet more ice shoots out towards Robin as he does so. “I’m not safe!”

“I don't care! You're my brother!” Robin shouts back, but Steve doesn't seem to hear her. He's looking down at his hands in horror, then at the waist-high line of ice between the two of them.

Robin somehow knows what he's going to do the moment before he does it.

“Steve!” Robin screams, breaking into a run. Steve's faster than her, always has been, so he makes it to the doors of the ballroom well before she can catch him. It also helps that people, even the guards posted at the doors, part to make room for him whenever he draws near. Seeing Steve push open the ballroom doors just enough to slip through them, Robin yells again, “Steve! Stop!”

“Princess Robin!” Someone crashes into Robin then, nearly sending the two of them flying. (Robin mentally thanks whatever God there may be that she wore pants and not a dress.) After regaining her footing, Robin looks at her assailant to find- oh, it's that guy. The Duke of one of their main trading partners, Tommy something. Haggard? Halfwit? Yeah, something like that.

“Princess Robin,” Tommy Hapless says, bending over with one hand on his knees and the other holding Robin's elbow as he catches his breath. God, Robin does not have time for this. “Princess, you can't- we need guidance. We need someone to... to lead us while the King is... indisposed.”

“I really don't have time for this,” Robin snaps, brushing his hand off her elbow. “Steve's my brother, I have to find him before he gets hurt!”

“I don't think... he's the one who'll be getting hurt,” Tommy Hanger-On says between gasps, quietly, but not so quiet Robin doesn't hear. She makes a point to stomp on his toes as she stalks off towards Eddie, who is doing his best to help people follow the evacuation advice. He looks faintly queasy, and very much like he would rather be literally anywhere else, but he's actually doing a pretty good job of guiding people where the guards want them.

Eddie doesn't notice her coming, so he jumps when Robin grabs him by the shoulder. She turns him around to face her, then grabs him by the other shoulder as well so she's looking him right in the eyes.

“I need to find Steve,” Robin says, not waiting for Eddie to finish whatever question he's opened his mouth to ask before continuing, “Can you take care of the kingdom until we get back?”

Eddie goes pale instantly. “What? I can't-”

“You're a prince, right? I know Forest-Upon-Hills is a pretty small kingdom, but how different can Hawkins really be?” Eddie doesn't look reassured, but Robin cares very little about that right now. She claps him on both shoulders in what she hopes is an encouraging gesture.

She grabs Eddie's hand and thrusts it up into the air, shouting, “Prince Eddie is in charge until I return!”

She then drops his hand before turning and running out into the night, ignoring the chaos behind her and the faint sounds of Eddie's confused protests.

Nothing matters to her now except for finding Steve.

[gigi-does-art]

Quickly going into Code Veronica for Steve! I’ve heard he isn’t the most well liked character in Resident Evil but I felt like he deserved a design. Really loved how he turned out! I now plan on designing re5 and re6 characters at some point, those might take a while though qwq.

Design fact: He’s a tortie! I thought it would fit him a lot and look nice. The design can be simplified however! The spots and everything don’t have to look exact.

[i3utterflyeffect]

After managing to survive the witch fight (by mostly hiding and being kept out of the fight) he then gets captured after being betrayed by his kids' friend. This man does not get a break. I wonder how he reacts the moment he realizes he's getting taken somewhere in the nether. He just wants to go home with his kids.

King stops after putting green in their cell just to poke Alan and make sure he's like. alive. because he's just laying face-down on the ground. but no he's just miserable and wants a break.

[worstloki]

I don’t think Mu Qing glares at people I think he looks at them with a neutral expression that can’t really be interpreted so they feel threatened by the ‘weird behaviour’

[gayrogues]

there is no fucking way that tom king's shitty oneshot, featuring the most out-of-character riddler known to man and a batman who breaks his no kill rule and waterboards people, got nominated for an eisner award...

[asheoninactive]

Sorry for more AU posting but here’s more quick strega ken sketches I did at work. Featuring Chidori cuz I love her dearly and I think their relationship in the AU would be neat

[thealwriteytrashdump]

Chapter Two; A Cold lie or a Witch's curse

Albert Wesker x Reader Smut

“Don’t touch anything.”

He barked as he locked the front door, taking off his nice corduroy coat, meticulously putting his expensive leather loafers away, and hanging his coat in his closet for coats. You do as he asked, anxiety bubbling in your throat, as he approached you, cornering against his bookshelves. He was an intimidating man, tall, muscular, and he still wore those darkened sunglasses on his face despite it being literally midnight.

His handsome face set in a permanent scowl, as he smoothed back his gelled back locks. He had the power to bend and break you and that made you tremble slightly. Unfortunately, he offered to pay for the evening and there was nothing you could do about it.

He towered over you, his gloved hand shooting out and gripping your jaw a little too hard. He angled your face to the left and to the right, studying your features intensely. You closed your eyes instinctively, waiting for him to do something to you, hoping to God, he won’t bruise or hurt you too badly.

“Open your eyes, whore. I want to see them.” He tightened his grip on your face painfully, forcing a hiss of pain out of you as you obeyed him, looking at him as he angled you to face him. The corner of his lips raised in what you supposed could be a smile but nothing about it was friendly. In fact, it was the opposite, he seemed like a tough client and you mentally recounted your exits. He lived on a high floor of an expensive building, so your best bet to get away would be the front door he locked. It was futile, knowing the precious few seconds it took to unlock and escape could mean life or death.

Even if you managed to incapacitate him and escape, word on the street was he’s a high-ranking police officer. That would be digging your own grave in this godforsaken city.

You looked into his sunglasses, trying your hardest not to appear fearful, to act like you were in control. His little smirk suggested that he knew you were terrified, though.

Terrified the moment he showed his S.T.A.R.S. badge off to you. The flirtatious look, the smile, and your confidence, all wiped off your face in a split second, and you looked at him like he grew several heads, stepping away from the car quickly like the metal burned you. His smug smile only grew as he explained to you what he desired.

A night with you to unwind and destress, only a few hours but he was willing to pay for longer. You tried to refuse, but he only laughed, politely threatening that if you did not get into his car, he would take you in and charge you for illegal prostitution.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just take the money, Dearheart?” His tone was light like he didn’t care what choice you made but with a sharp hint of a threat. His sunglasses hid his eyes from you, as he wolfishly smiled, baring his fangs at you, the prey.

“Get in the car.”

He clicked his tongue at you, seemingly disappointed in your appearance now that he took a moment to study you further. He released you, forcefully flicking your face away as he sighed dramatically, stepping away.

“Take off those dingy heels, and come with me.” There was barely any time to do as he said before he roughly took hold of your arm, nearly dragging you to his bathroom. He shoved you in,

“You smell like a dirty toilet, whore. Strip and wash off the filth for me. Don’t you dare use my products, if you do, I’ll smell it and consider this little meeting paid in full. Do I make myself clear?” He spat, slamming the door as he left the bathroom.

You quickly looked around the large and nice bathroom. He had a shower stall and a massive bathtub that looked like a small hot tub with a nice window overlooking the city. The sink counter was made of finished granite and the walls were tiled in a nice light gray slate. This bathroom alone looked more expensive and larger than your old shoebox apartment. How did this guy afford any of this shit on a policeman’s salary?

You stripped off your dingy white slip dress, not wearing any underwear as you lost them a while ago. You searched for a towel in his dirty laundry hamper, too frightened to look in his cabinets. You folded your slip neatly, before trying to figure out the shower, quickly turning it on and slipping in with a sigh. It had been some time since the last time you showered, taking advantage and trying to rub off the dirt of the street quickly. You spotted a bar of plain soap, a quick sniff test determined it was scentless. It was just a bar of soap, not any of the ‘products’ he forbade you to use.

Using this to your advantage, you quickly washed your hair, and scrubbed your body down quickly, lest he come back and get angry over you using his singular bar of soap. You placed it back where you found it and turned off the shower, stepping out and drying yourself quickly.

“I expected you to be done quicker than this, dear.” You nearly jumped out of your skin, holding up the towel in defense,

“I-”

“Continue,” he leaned against the door frame as you slowly but surely went back to drying yourself, roughly rubbing out the water from your hair. Nervous, you didn’t look at him; trying to be confident in yourself like you usually were even with the more difficult clients.

He watched you quietly, judging your every move under the sunglasses. The quiet of the bathroom accentuated by the occasional drip of the faucet. Your feet tapped against the floor as you awkwardly fumbled around his bathroom. He was just so silent, so stoic. His lack of a reaction to your body made you feel anxious, and self-conscious, like he was unimpressed with you.

Meekly, you watched him out of the corner of your eye, noticing he changed into something more casual, a white t-shirt and some sweatpants. He was a handsome man, looking to be in his late twenties, early thirties at the most, with slicked-back sandy blonde locks and a muscular frame. He still had the sunglasses on for some reason, wearing them even in his own home.

After drying your hair, combing your fingers through the wet knots a little, you used the dirty towel to dry down your body. Squeezing parts of yourself and softly panting, mostly for his benefit. As you slowly spun to show off your body, dragging the towel over your chest, pinching your nipples, and biting your lip with a soft moan. The man obviously wanted a show, and luckily for him, you knew how to give one.

At least in the general sense.

Even as you dragged the towel between your legs, he did not react at all, just watching you as you dried yourself, rubbing your slit as you bent over for him, reaching back to pull apart your cheeks to show him what he paid for.

Nothing.

Usually, that gets something, even if it was nonverbal, but he was as still as a stature casually leaning against the doorframe, sunglasses hiding his eyes behind the unimpressed firm set line of his mouth.

Huffing quietly, you finished drying yourself, bending in a way that had your cunt high in the air for him, as you straighten back up, you felt a warm large palm on your ass. A small, satisfied, and smug smirk crept onto your lips as he stepped closer to you, gripping your hips lightly as he rubbed your cheeks over the hardening tent in his sweats.

Finally, a reaction.

He said nothing as he pulled you back against him, holding firm as you arched uncomfortably for him with a soft moan, looking back at him as you tossed the towel to the hamper. He was still stoic, seemingly uncaring about your performance as he snatched your hair roughly. Yelping as he gripped hard, pulling and forcing you to your knees, dragging you to face him.

“Open.” he commands, angling your head painfully with one hand as he rubs his erection over the sweatpants with the other.

Once.

twice.

You caught yourself a little, holding onto the cabinets under the sink, complying as you open wide, sticking your tongue out for effect. Looking up to the sunglasses, unable to see past the unchanged expression he had on. He kept his hand entangled in your hair tight, the other hand pulling down his sweats and letting his cock spring out, heavy and hard.

He pulled you toward him, but for a split second, you hesitated. He’s much larger than your regulars; hell, he’d be the largest you’d taken in a hot minute, long and curved. You resisted a little, remembering a time in which you were physically destroyed by a larger than average penis and man’s uncaring nature.

He stopped, noticing your hesitation, clicking his tongue. You mentally prepared yourself for a rough night. To be handled painfully, bruised, and tossed away. Closing your eyes, you relaxed in his grip, ready to take him.

But to your surprise, he let go of your hair, huffing a sigh quietly and as you opened your eyes, he spoke.

“What’s wrong? Afraid?” he smirked as you looked up to him in confusion. He jerked himself nice and slow, waiting for you.

“Well? I thought you were a professional whore.” he says as he angled his tip to you again, pushing his hips forward and shaking his member in your face. Glancing down to it, you lick your lips, preparing to take him. Summoning spit to lube up this monster, you steadied yourself once again. Eyes flickered up to his face as you puckered your lips and kissed the hot meaty tip, spitting out saliva and smearing the drool over his head.

Watching for a reaction, you caught an eyebrow quirk, a crack in his mask as you kissed and slurped down the length slowly, barely ghosting your soft, slightly chapped, lips over him. Breathing in his musk, and taking the spit covered head in your fingers, you gently stroked your palm down with your lips, properly lubing up his cock.

He breathed out a hiss of impatience, another crack in the mask. His hand entangled into your hair again, as he guided your lips to his tip again, nudging it into your mouth.

Pleased with the familiarity of his insistence, you opened your jaw wider and wider as he pushed in. He held your face as he thrusts shallowly, watching you take every inch slowly.

You drooled more, sticking out your tongue, careful about how he thrust into your face. Don’t want to use teeth yet.

Taking his lazy thrusts and going further, you took a deep breath and forced more of him down your throat, readjusting your legs to tuck under you and give you the leverage to take control if needed. He let you take more of him, as you glanced up back at his face. There were no more signs of his facade cracking, but he eagerly held your hair away from your face in an almost too tight grip as his controlled movements lessened. You continued his slow controlled pace but with each thrust, you licked his meaty head with the rough topside of your tongue, sucking hard as you slowly but surely, took more and more of him into your mouth.

With the sheer girth, it was nearly too hard to suck properly without teeth interfering but you tried anyway. Slurping away excess spit only to push it back out onto his penis and begin again.

The bathroom was deathly quiet, save for your loud affections. He was so quiet but you knew he was focused on you, on the way your mouth pleasured him. You could feel the springed tension he was holding back. Letting you tease him with how methodically you worshiped him.

His vice grip on your hair seemingly tightened as he quietly conceded, lightly tugging to get you to go faster but you would not.

Still teasing him with the rough side of your tongue and just about bottomed out into the patch of dirty blonde pubes, neatly cut into a diamond shape that trailed up to just below his belly button. Watching like a hawk for any more signs of his pleasure.

He drew in another breath, more ragged than before as his abdomen muscles clenched and unclenched uselessly.

If you could smirk around his cock, you would. You knew the type, the Dr. Jenkyl-Mr. Hyde type. Wanting control– NEEDING to act on his darker base urges but never allowing himself to enact his freaky desires in polite society, except only with someone he paid to take it– that he paid to break and control. He probably had a wife, someone he genuinely didn’t want to see this side of him, but the desire to do this probably drove him mad.

You swallowed hard around his cock, keeping him fully into your mouth as you hummed out insults to him. You began to suck harder, bobbing your head faster down his shaft.

Pathetic, gross, stupid man. Weak-willed. Cheating lowlife. Betting that if you could see his eyes, you’d see the confliction, the worries, the lust pushing him to commit adultery. See him destroy his entire life for just one night with you, and take out that rage on you, punishing you like you did it to him. You glared up at him, as he took control back. Hating him for using you like this.

You let him set the pace, taking and sucking hard on him as he pushed your head down to meet his desperate thrusts. Holding on for dear life as he brutally bruised the back of your throat repeatedly. He clenched his teeth, hissing small breaths of pleasure. Sounds that traveled down your belly into your core.

This was your life. You hated it, hated that each night was a different man. Tried to fight it, tried to get out of it, but fell right back in each time. It didn’t help that you’d just lost your apartment and would’ve died on the street from the Midwest exposure. So you took it, groaning out more insults that got him to make his first sound of genuine pleasure. A shaky groan that came from deep in his chest.

The intensity of his wild thrusting made your eyes water and the cheap mascara run down your cheeks. The noise he made set your tummy fluttering with hopeful butterflies as he slowed and pulled out quickly, eagerly and lightly twitching as he focused on not spilling his load.

You pulled back and coughed a bit, blinking back the tears, going back to keeping your mouth open to him in hopes he does spill so you can make your escape.

“Get up, we are not done,” he growled, jerking himself slowly as he waited for you to comply.

You gently took over his movements, kissing his tip lightly as you stood, but he swatted you away harshly, shoving you hard against the counter.

“Bend over.” he hissed, trying to force you down against the cold counter. You stumbled to turn around as he impatiently pushed and shoved. A quiet squeal escaped your lips as the cold smoothness of the countertop laid against your belly, against the stiff peaked nipples. Everything was just so cold, but he didn’t care, he lined up behind you. Holding you down as he nudged your cunt, trying to find your hole.

“Do I have to tell you everything?” He muttered as he kicked your legs apart, pulling your cheeks apart. “Hold it open.” He hissed.

Doing as he said, you reached back to hold yourself open to him. Glancing back up to him, His sunglasses slid down a little, but it was still hard to see his eyes from this angle.

Not that it mattered because as soon as he felt your opening, he eagerly slid in. A guttural moan slipped past his lips while a pained cry left yours. He stretched you open, his cock reaching deeply into you, uncomfortably pushing up on the bulbous nub of your cervix. He held your waist as he pressed his weight down on you unknowingly, seemingly reveling in the feeling of your walls desperately trying to squeeze out his invasive protrusion.

“Surprising, Dear. I thought you used but…” he stuttered to a stop as he squeezed your sides harshly, seemingly choking on air. He moved slowly, mostly for his benefit as once again, he sighed out a breathy noise. Every drag of his cock on your walls was delicious agony. The burn of the stretch sent little bursts of fire shocking up your nerves. His tip nudged your cervix as his entire body twitched and flinched with the pleasure he felt. The feeling twisted pain and pleasure into knots in your head, confusing as you attempted to hold back the involuntary whine as he gently rocked back into your cunt. His eagerness to feel your body around him was ego-boosting, exhilarating to your senses as he began to pace himself. Your body responded naturally, relaxing in his grip as he began to chase his pleasure.

Each time he pulled back, the relief flooded in, only to get squished back out when he bottomed out against your hips again. The delicious burn turned pleasurable as his tip pushed down against the spongy nerve of your vaginal canal, poking against the nubby bulb of flesh deep within you for only a moment before he pulled back out again.

He muttered to himself, mostly backhanded compliments you couldn’t understand. You’d long since stopped feeling the cold countertop, only felt his hot hands holding you down and his hot cock methodically fucking you fast but controlled. Unconsciously, your hands flew the smooth stone in an attempt to hold steady against the storm of pleasure he rocked into your body. The heavy drag of his hand curved up your spine and held firm as he angled you to your tippy toes, reaching even further beyond.

Time felt like it stopped for you and for him. He openly grunted into your ear, losing his careful control to the pulsing pleasure he felt from your body. The sunglasses slid dangerously low on the bridge of his nose but he didn’t care, he was too busy watching how your body jiggled with each hard slap of his hips against yours. Watching the ripple of flesh travel up your backside as you cried out more and arched harder. The momentary tightening of your pussy sent electricity spiking into him and commanded him to move harder, faster to chase the sparks.

He dug his fingertips into the soft flesh of your hips, unconsciously closing his eyes but desperately wanting to keep them open to watch the rhythmic wet slap of skin against skin, to watch his cock disappear into your cunt. He nearly lost it when he watched you tease him with your plump lips and felt the intensity of needing to paint your face with his seed. Now he was on the verge of losing himself again in the tightness of your soft velvet walls. His base desires nearly devoured him as he missed the telltale cue of his pleasure peaking.

He felt his release mid thrust as he wanted to hold himself deep in your cunt. His basic human need to sire offspring nearly won against his common sense as he pulled out quickly, smearing his semen out against your ass and back. He shuddered, almost violently as a ragged groan burned his throat. He squeezed the flesh of your ass hard as he came down from his pleasure.

He was vaguely aware that his sunglasses were gone, but he didn’t care as he panted hard, feeling the last sparks of pleasure shoot into his brain. He didn’t realize he closed his eyes but when he opened them again, he saw the art he made on you. The way his cock nestled in the cleft of your cheeks. The way you shuddered and pushed against him, seemingly feeling something akin to his own pleasure. He glanced up into the mirror first at himself, at his bare chest, watching the way he breathed heavily. He glanced up to his own eyes, to the sweat dripping down his face.

He hated that he felt this way, that he needed to feel this way as a part of his very human nature. He noticed strands of his hair fell out of place and he reached up to smooth it back. He tried to ignore this human need all his life. He tried to focus on his scientific work and didn't want to feel like he was just like everyone else who was lesser. Didn’t like feeling as if he required human companionship to function. A physical or romantic relationship just distracted him from his goals, and he was disgusted with it.

It was unnecessary but he couldn’t escape it either. He failed yet again and that pissed him off. He spent years ignoring the growing frustration, the feelings of jealousy when William mentioned he was dating and eventually marrying Annette. When one of the other researchers talked about their partners within the facility. He managed to keep to himself for 32 years, but then that military seductress tricked him. Casted her succubus spell on him, and he was forced to admit he lost sight of his goals for a time while he dreamt of a life with her. When she shattered the illusion and disappeared, he came back to his senses thankfully. The notion of a life outside of the goals he set for himself was absolute nonsense. Unfortunately, that witch left one final curse on him, one he could not expel or ignore anymore.

The animalistic need to breed, to feel the pleasure of coupling with another. He despised it and wanted to despise the woman who tricked him into loving it.

The stirring movement of the whore he bought caught his attention as he looked down at your face reflected in the mirror, your eyes watching him with mild curiosity. You moved slowly, resting on your arms, as the beauty of his eyes caught your attention, and so you studied his face.

Well so much for the anonymity of his sunglasses, he thought as he let go and backed away from you. He wiped the sweat off his face with his hand, immediately regretting it as he smeared his own already cold cum on his cheek. You pulled up shakily, feeling his drying semen crack on your backside. The more wet globs began to slide with gravity, making you cringe and shiver.

You tried to stand on your jellied legs, long since numb from being bent over. You were right about being destroyed but didn’t expect your orgasm. Granted he didn’t make the effort himself to bring you to one, but he placed just the right amount of pressure against your back, squished you just right, held you just right.

Unexpected but not unwelcome.

Before you could stand on your own two feet, however, he pushed you back down gently, taking the dirty towel you used, he wordlessly but roughly wiped away his cum from your backside. He smeared it up your back as he dragged the towel harshly between your sensitive folds, making you cry out involuntarily.

Once he was satisfied with what he’d done, he tossed it back into the hamper and left the bathroom. Seemingly uninterested as you grabbed your slip, slipping it back on. You crept to the door, glancing out and seeing his chiseled bare bottom ass as he pulled money out of his wallet.

“Take this and get out. I have no more use for you,” he said as he held out the mash of bills, he was already looking for something else. You quickly took it and counted it. A quick count told you that he was short. Huffing quietly, you contemplated asking him for the rest.

“This is not enough, you’re missing a few twenties.” You called out, he stopped and glared back at you, standing at his full height, naked as the day he was born. He sneered at you, giving you a once-over before speaking,

“I gave you what you’re worth, dear. Now get out.” He turned to you, giving a small malicious smile. “Unless you’d like to stay the night in Raccoon City's finest jail cell. I can certainly make arrangements.” he drawled, you bit your tongue. He stepped closer, leaning down as he kept eye contact, smug, knowing there was really nothing you could do.

“Take the money, and leave.” His tone suggested he was being generous, telling you to take the deal. You conceded, defeated as you turned to leave quickly.

Never again, you thought bitterly as you quickly grabbed your heels and rushed to the door. Unlocking it and escaping into the night, but slamming it to release the frustration you felt. Instead of taking the elevator, you took the stairs, escaping out the back, back to the empty streets.

[picturejasper20]

Danny Phantom frustrates me as a series because it has some amazing fantastic concepts and character conflict but, because of some reason, those said ideas were never allowed to be developed beyond more than one or two episodes and the character conflicts have to end in the same episode they were introduced.

[obisamya]

you cursed out my name tried to light it aflame going on and on about your love (tainted love, isaac dunbar)

[juniestar]

Oh my god one last thing my ex took me to outside lands and when we tried to watch lana del rey he laid down on the grass and had a “panic attack” (this was after months of him talking about how he didn’t like her) so we went to see foo fighters after a bit and he was FINE