#me in public settings forcing my eyes open so people will think i’m friendly

[morifinwes]

wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

OR

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

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

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

 

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

 

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

 

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

 

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Winning the Championship Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 夺冠之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ Released on 28 September 2021 ]

The vibrations of my phone rouse me from the tediously long document. After looking at the caller, I answer it hurriedly.

MC: Gavin? Has your mission ended?

Gavin (on the phone): Soon. I’ll be back before the weekend. I should be able to make it in time for that café event you mentioned.

I suddenly recall how I had mentioned this event to Gavin before he left for the mission last month, but...

MC: Sob sob. I can’t go this weekend. I’m producing a new show, so I’ve been busier lately.

Gavin (on the phone): Is it a difficult show?

MC: A little bit... Come to think of it, Gavin, what type of sports shows appeal to you?

Gavin (on the phone): ...appeal to me? Competitive sports with commentators.

Just as I’m hesitating on whether to tell him about the problems I’m facing, someone on the other end of the line seems to be calling for him.

MC: Go and do your thing. I’m not facing any issues.

Gavin (on the phone): Okay. Contact me anytime if needed.

Right after hanging up, Minor knocks on the door and comes in.

Minor: Boss, I’ve made the arrangements for the collaborative filming of “Life’s Limits” with the City Sports and Culture Bureau. As per your request, I’ve selected a group of amateur racing hobbyists. The name list and materials have been sent to your e-mail.

MC: You’ve worked hard.

Minor: Boss, why don’t you take a break? Your dark circles have appeared.

MC: The company competing with us for this project is Light Media, and it’s much more experienced in producing sports shows as compared to us. We can’t let our guard down.

After more than half a month of research, I locked in my decision regarding the filming site - Hurricane Club.

This club is very well-known amongst motorcycle enthusiasts, and often organises competitions for amateurs.

This weekend, the club will be conducting a three-day training, and participants will be guided by professional coaches. There will even be a friendly race at the end.

The competition has a very novel format - it’s a three-person relay.

I intend to search for three photogenic motorists to form a small team. By following their daily experiences throughout the entire process, including their training sessions and the race, I’d produce a story about the team.

Minor: Boss, according to your request, isn’t the best choice Bro Gavin?

MC: That’s true...

During the initial planning stage, the first person I thought of was actually Gavin.

However, he doesn’t like appearing on shows, and was only willing to appear in previous shows because of me.

Moreover, he’s been away for a mission which lasted close to a month, and should get a proper rest over the weekend.

MC: In short, he... doesn’t quite fit the standard. You can leave work for now.

After sending Minor away, I re-focus on the thick stack of materials in front of me.

-

Before the peak hour on Friday, I head towards Hurricane Club in a rental car. While doing pre-filming checks, I answer the phone.

Minor: Boss, the three people we agreed on have set out. I’ve also found a suitable substitute. After careful selection, he’s definitely a top quality choice. I can guarantee that nothing will go wrong! You’ll get to see him once you reach the club! Boss, thanks for your hard work!

Before I have a chance to probe further, the dial tone sounds in the next second.

MC: This fellow is once again acting first before reporting afterwards... there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Upon reaching the club, I meet up with the three team members we had contacted earlier.

Based on background research conducted by the company, they are generally outstanding, and are very enthusiastic when it comes to racing.

One of them is a young participant called Kelly, who obtained an amateur championship title in the past.

I quickly introduce the details of the shoot to them.

MC: Bro Liu, Xiao Yu, Kelly, thank you all for participating in this shoot. Afterwards, the club will be allocating you to your coaches for guidance. Even though this team was put together at short notice, I hope everyone can have faith in each other, and motivate each other. We also prepared a substitute team member...

??: Sorry I’m late.

A familiar voice drifts from behind me, and I immediately turn around.

Sunlight falls on every step Gavin takes towards me. The pair of eyes looking at me are bright and clear.

Gavin: I’m the substitute team member, Gavin. I’ve kept you waiting, Producer.

-

After the club assigns the coaches and enters the test run phase, I finally digest the “unexpected surprise” of Gavin’s sudden appearance.

I initially think of finding a chance to talk to him privately, but the coaches who arrive one after another leave me with no choice but to retract the gaze which keeps straying towards that figure.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on my current task. By the time all the filming angles are checked, most of the morning has already gone by.

Scanning my surroundings, I don’t see Gavin anywhere.

MC: ...where is he?

-

Walking along the racetrack and towards the vending machine, I decide to get a bottle of coffee to fill myself up before looking for Gavin.

Perhaps because I didn’t have breakfast, I suddenly feel dizzy after taking a few sips.

By the time I regain my senses, I’m carried over to a long bench by a familiar force. Meeting Gavin’s evidently frantic gaze, I quickly tug the corners of my lips upwards into a smile.

MC: Gavin, I was just about to look for you. Turns out you were here.

He doesn’t speak. Lifting his hand, he wipes away the thin sheen of sweat on my forehead lightly. Then, a breeze envelops me gently, warm and comforting.

He takes the coffee in my hand smoothly, then retrieves soya milk and a sandwich from the bag in his hand.

Gavin: Eat your breakfast.

MC: ...okay, I’ll listen to Sir Gavin.

I munch on the sandwich obediently, occasionally blinking at Gavin to convey a message which says, “I feel much better, so there’s no need to worry”.

Gavin’s slightly furrowed brows finally arch subconsciously.

Gavin: I heard from Minor that you’ve been working overnight to prepare for this show.

MC: Haha, don’t listen to his nonsense. It isn’t that exaggerated...

Gavin: I also heard that I didn’t fit the standard. What standard did you set?

MC: ...

I clench my fists in secret, condemning Minor from the bottom of my heart for his “heinous act” of betraying me.

MC: I can explain! You don’t like appearing on camera, and your identity in STF is a pretty sensitive topic...

Gavin: Mm, you’re right.

Gavin deliberately elongates his words, as though he doesn’t plan to let the matter go just like this.

Gavin: So what’s your standard?

MC: ...we hope for the motorists to have a certain level of professional competence, to be sufficiently photogenic, and most importantly, to have an enthusiastic heart. But I really didn’t mean to say that you didn’t fit this standard!

Gavin is finally unable to suppress the upward turn of his lips.

Gavin: Once you’re done today, sleep early tonight.

-

The training proceeds methodically, and filming goes very smoothly.

The roar of motors drift from the club’s racetrack, and motorcycles of every hue speed freely along the racetrack.

In the camera lens, two blue and white motorcycles seem to be speeding at the same pace, as though they’d break through the finish line at the same time.

Kelly: Have you ever participated in professional racing?

Gavin: Nope.

Kelly: The way you cornered the motorcycle a few times - you can’t do that with ease without a few years of experience. How did you do it?

Gavin: I just drive often.

Kelly: Let’s find a chance to ride together some time.

Kelly pats him on the shoulder before continuing the training. Gavin walks over to me, twisting open a bottle of water before taking a sip.

Gavin: Is filming going well?

MC: There’s too much footage from the training sessions. I might consider adding a special segment for interviews.

While speaking, I’m struck with an idea.

MC: Mr Gavin, why don’t you have a pre-interview with me to test out the effects?

I lift a bottle of water towards Gavin. 

MC: What made you like motorcycles?

Gavin: I don’t have a precise answer. By the time I realised it, I already liked them.

MC: In that case, are there any motorcycle-related experiences which left a deep impression on you?

Gavin is silent for a moment. He seems to think of something, then chuckles softly.

Gavin: The time it overturned.

MC: Overturned? When did that happen? You can tell me in secret - this will definitely not be disclosed to the public.

Gavin looks at me, and he speaks in a volume only the both of us can hear -

Gavin: [whispers] The time when I rode on a snowmobile with the girl I like.

The snow field in my memories is cold, but the breath at my ear causes the temperature of my ear to rise.

[Note] This is a reference to Snow Mountain Date

MC: [blushing] Cough, that was...

All of a sudden, a clamour from the racetrack interrupts my words. The both of us stand up, only to discover that a motorcycle has overturned on the track.

Many people are standing at the side, and some call out for the medical staff.

Gavin: That seems to be Old Liu. Let’s go over to have a look.

-

Doctor: There are soft tissue injuries to your wrist and leg. Recuperate properly over this duration, and don’t engage in any intense activities.

Bro Liu: What about the competition tomorrow...

MC: Bro Liu, just recuperate. The doctor said that once your injuries are healed, you can still ride motorcycles in the future.

Bro Liu glances at Gavin.

Bro Liu: I guess I must admit that I’m getting old. It’s time to hand the baton to the young.

After contacting Minor and telling him about what happened, Gavin and I leave the hospital.

MC: Bro Liu worked so hard over the past two days. He must have really wanted to participate in tomorrow’s competition...

Gavin: In that case, we’ll work hard together with his effort. This is when the substitute steps in.

-

It’s the night before the competition, and I’m looking through the contents of the edited shoot over the past two days in my room.

After cutting the cornering training, I modify it into a slow-motion feature, then insert a few casual interactions between the team members as embellishments.

But no matter how I edit it, the clip is unable to convey the feelings I hoped it would.

I grab my hair in frustration, unwilling to accept my defeat. I locate the original video, watching it from the start.

The sound of the doorbell interrupts my slightly muddy train of thoughts. Opening the door, I see Gavin standing outside.

Gavin: I saw that the lights were still on in your room, so I came over to take a look. Why aren’t you sleeping?

MC: Gavin...

Hearing the gloominess in my tone, he takes my hand and pulls me over to sit down on the sofa.

Gavin: Filming didn’t go well?

Placing the notebook laptop between us, I play the recording.

MC: For this shoot, I wanted to edit it into a small unscripted story to showcase the competitiveness and fun of being a racer. As of now, the story aspect is going smoothly, and the interactions between people are interesting too. But I think it’s missing something which can grab one’s attention immediately...

Gavin looks at the screen and ponders for a moment. Then, he suddenly asks me a question.

Gavin: Want to go for a stroll? It’s too stuffy in the room. Getting some fresh air might give you new inspiration.

-

Likely to conserve energy for the competition tomorrow, everyone has returned to rest very early, and the racetrack is completely empty.

Gavin leaps onto the bleachers, then reaches out to me.

Gavin: Let’s go for a spin.

He takes my hand, guiding me onto the vehicle. Then, he puts on a helmet for me, teaching me how to grab the throttle and brakes.

MC: Gavin, are you sure this is okay?

Gavin: You can’t go onto the road, but we’re still within the venue. After filming for days, don’t you want to experience it yourself?

MC: I want to!

Gavin sits behind me, two arms securing me steadily in his arms.

Along with the familiar sound of the engine, the motorcycle moves. The speed is incredibly steady, and is just right for enjoying the pleasant evening breeze.

MC: Gavin, can we go a little faster?

Gavin: We can. Sit tight.

A loud roar drifts to my ears, and the motorcycle flies forward like an arrow leaving a bow.

Very soon, the most difficult part of the racetrack appears, comprising of consecutive bends. During the training sessions, many motorists faced many trials at this area.

Gavin grips my hand, loosening the throttle, causing the the motorcycle to slow down.

MC: There’s no need to step on the brakes?

Gavin: No need. Engine braking is enough to reduce the speed.

While speaking, the motorcycle tilts at an unbelievable angle at a turn. Gavin controls the direction with composure, air currents at the side keeping the motorcycle steady.

The motorcycle dangerously yet steadily completes the curved track, returning onto a straight track and picking up speed once again.

Gavin: MC, can you see where the cameras are? That’s the goal. On the racetrack, that’s the only thing in a racer’s eyes.

The sound of wind at my ears seems to quieten down. The moment we charge past the finishing line, I suddenly have a feeling that a full stop has been drawn on the racetrack.

Even after the motorcycle makes its gradual halt, I’m unable to return to my senses.

Seeming to understand my silence, Gavin doesn’t speak. He simply pushes the motorcycle that I'm on patiently, walking slowly.

MC: Gavin, I know what this story is missing. Stirring the emotions of viewers requires the most important thing which can make them seethe with excitement -

Gavin: Winning the championship.

MC: That’s right. All the effort from before is meant for the final sprint towards the goal. Winning the championship is the core of a competitive spirit, and is also what the show’s theme of “limit” is seeking after. But... Gavin, do you think we have a chance at winning the championship tomorrow?

Gavin: Yes. But while we’re improving, others are improving as well. Everyone on the racetrack will be aiming towards victory. The people you selected are very outstanding. Believe in them, and believe in yourself.

MC: Mm, everyone has already worked very hard. When it comes to winning, it’s good enough if they try their best.

Gavin parks the motorcycle properly, then carries me down from it.

Gavin: Go back and have a good sleep. You don’t have to worry too much about the competition tomorrow.

-

It’s finally time for the competition. Seeing the filled audience seats, I feel incredibly nervous.

Kelly: I didn't expect to see so many people.

MC: It’s a Sunday, and the club decided to open the venue to the public as publicity.

I take a deep breath to calm my emotions.

MC: Let’s enjoy the fun of racing to our heart’s content! Shall we do a pre-competition ceremony?

While speaking, I stretch out my hand. Gavin cooperates, placing his palm over the back of my hand. He gives it a gentle pinch, and it feels as though an endless stream of strength is being transmitted.

It’s a sense of security belonging only to Gavin.

MC: Safety first, the competition second. Everyone, all the best!

All the motorists have taken their places at the starting line. Based on prior suggestions by the club, I’ve arranged Kelly to take on the first battle, and Gavin will be the finale.

With the green light signalling the start of the competition, twenty motorcycles which have been waiting for action seem to sprint forward at the same time.

The sound of motor engines causes everyone’s adrenaline to spike, and the crowd becomes immersed in the competition.

I’m positioned closest to the audience seats. This is the first time I’m viewing a competition from such a close distance. Even though it’s an amateur competition, it’s sufficiently astounding.

Xiao Yu makes a few minor mistakes at the bends, causing the team to lag behind temporarily.

Carefully observing the changes on the racetrack, I don’t feel overly anxious.

Because it’d be Gavin’s turn next. With him around, I always feel exceptionally at ease.

I look at Gavin as he waits at the handover area with a helmet over his head. He seems to sense my gaze, and turns around to see my thumbs up.

In the next second, his motorcycle charges into the racetrack.

The blue and white motorcycle courses past the bends nimbly in almost “L” shape movements.

As compared to my experience last night, I can see Gavin’s cornering techniques even more clearly from the audience seats.

Although the camera is unable to capture his expression, it isn’t difficult to imagine his focused and bright eyes from underneath the helmet.

When the competition enters its final round, Gavin has already reached the second place, and there’s hardly any difference between him and the first competitor.

The audience’s emotions are stirred by this intense competition, and the sound of cheers surge forward like a tide.

I find myself being influenced as well, staring fixedly at that sprinting figure.

After the upcoming bend, the goal will not be far.

Unexpectedly, a motorcycle behind suddenly accelerates towards the bend, using its full strength to make a last effort.

However, the motorcycle tilts too much. It’s clear that the centre of gravity was not controlled properly, sending the motorist collapsing onto the track.

At this point, Gavin’s motorcycle is already over half of the bend. He controls the dip of the motorcycle, barely avoiding the fallen vehicle.

Because of this incident, some distance is pulled between himself and the motorist in first place.

On the straight road, Gavin’s motorcycle suddenly accelerates, keeping pace with the motorist in front.

In this moment, time seems to slow down. I hold my breath, feeling as though my spirit has become one with that sprinting figure.

The rustling of leaves, the flapping wings of birds, the yelling of the audience, the checkered flag waving mid-air... all of them gather into one voice-

Announcer: The first place goes to No. 07!

On the big screen, Gavin’s name is listed impressively at the top.

At the final moment, he attained first place with a 0.06 second difference, winning the championship.

Gavin did it!

The motorcycle comes to a gradual halt. Gavin removes his helmet, droplets of sweat reflecting bright rays of light beneath the sunlight.

The smile on his face is sparkling and dazzling, bringing with it the confidence belonging to a victor.

Such a result is both unexpected yet within my expectations.

Gavin turns around, looking squarely in my direction.

He shakes his head casually, which has gotten messy from his helmet, and says two words.

Gavin: We won.

-

The employees push the motorcycles back to the venue. Gavin heads over to the referee’s seat, lowers his head and says a few things before walking to me.

The gold medal in his hand dangles slightly, reflecting a dazzling light.

Cheers from the surroundings grow brighter as he draws closer. Separated by the bleachers, he stretches out his hand towards me -

He leans over the bleachers slightly. As he draws closer, I can detect the scent belonging only to Gavin.

Gavin hangs the medal around my neck, announcing our victory.

Gavin: The champion title - we’ve got it.

My mouth opens, but I have no idea what to say. My body reacts faster than my brain. I stretch out both arms, hugging him with all the strength in my body.

Scorching warmth and the dampness of sweat from the competition linger on him.

Gavin returns the embrace. It’s as though this hug is enough for us to understand each other’s sentiments.

Gavin: I think I heard you cheering me on.

MC: I did it so softly, but you could hear it?

Gavin: Mm, the wind told me. Everything you say - I can hear them.

MC: There’s still one thing the wind hasn’t had the time to tell you. I’ll say it myself right now.

Turning my face to the side, I bring it close to his ear.

MC: Gavin, you’ll always be the only champion in my heart.

🏍 Call and Moments: here

🏍 Art based on this date: here

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[candyflosstoxicity]

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

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

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

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

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

[theodora3022]

Playing tricks with the trickster

Summary: Failed escape attempt from yandere Childe. He lets you play your cards, even playing along, just for his own amusement.

Notes: My first genshin piece yay... I had a sweet and terrible dream of me running from Childe in the woods. Also some inspiration was drawn from @cinnamonest‘s this post, one big virtual hug to her! I hope I did Childe justice, what can I say I love manipulative smiling boys. It has become a pattern as I dash from one fandom to another. This is had turned out to be longer then I expected...Ginger boy demands my time and energy too much omg. Mind the warnings, although there is nothing extreme in this.

Fun fact, I was looping to Nintendo game by Alessia Cara when writing this down. I believe it fits the theme of this fic quite well.

Tagging: @akutaguagua a great friend who patiently beta-read this mess of a horror dream and gave me lots of kind praises! 

(Offical art belongs to miHoYo! This is a cover page of this video, if there is any issues, contact me and I will remove it at once)

Warnings: Implied past abduction,dub-con touching, mild degradation, drugging(not on reader), implied non-con/dub-con at the end, this is not healthy love and I do not condone this irl.

It has been nearly a month since the youngest Fatui Harbinger had “taken you in”. After a few tries, you were too horrified by the punishments to continuously fight him. You learned on the first day that Childe’s smiling, the friendly mask would come off towards you. Your behaviour would decide if that is a curse or a “blessing”.

So you had quieted down, struggling to restrain yourself from yelling or screaming, carefully not to provoke his anger. Despite being compliant to his orders, you never truly showed him any affection either. Sure, you would sit on his lap if he asked, but you never initiated anything intimate with him. No matter how much Tartaglia spoiled you with clothes, books, jewelry or other luxuries, he is still the one who holds the commanding end of your shackles. It’s the best not to get used to all of that when your sight is set on the door.

Although he has taken your freedom away, you are not kept in a windowless room. On the contrary, you have too many outings now. Wherever he goes, you have to be present in a 2m radius, including meetings. Being a Harbinger is no easy job, so he prefers not having to worry about your safetly during buisness hours. The best way to do that is never let you out of his sight.

“Love, no one should witness our little problems. Well, no one alive that is.” Of course you wouldn’t want to put innocent people's lives at stake. You never dared to act out when you two are in public, and no one would bat an eye if a Fatui had taken a lover. 

You had taken an emotionless approach towards him. If Childe wants a kiss on the cheek, you’ll give him a quick light peck. If he wants breakfast, you’ll go make some pancakes with the topping he likes. Luckily, Childe had not done anything too extreme yet. If cuddling to sleep does not count as extreme that is. The only time you slipped up is when he suddenly hugs you from behind when you’re cooking.  

You thought maybe, just maybe, by being as boring and dull as you could, this bastard might just get tired of you and let you go. Childe only loves the fun of it right? Or maybe it could lower his guard.

Oh, how naive you are. You should have known better than to underestimate a Fatui harbinger. See, this is exactly why he needs to keep you around. Yes, unfortunately for you, Childe loves you, so very much. Speaking to him with a monotone voice isn’t going to alter that fact.

You have been devoid of emotions as of late. While Childe does appreciate fewer screams for the sake of his eardrums, this schemer can sense you are up to something. Perhaps this is the peace before your “storm”(he thought of it more like a drizzle)

You want to play a game? Okay, why not? Childe cannot wait to see what tricks you got on those sleeves. Are you ever getting away? Does an amateur ever win when they play a game with a professional trickster? Never.

Still, nothing bites like a cornered rat. You are no airhead, and he is fully aware of that. Just not as cunning and observent as him, that’s all.

The way you just kept your emotions sealed up is impressive, even to someone like him. Even when he got hansy, you did not flinch and just stared at the corner. Childe can only catch faint glimpses of anger when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Hm, when are you pulling your trigger? Tonight, or tomorrow night? Not that Childe is impatient, anything from you is worth waiting. But he would need to dismiss his patrolling underlings in the nearby woods beforehand. No extras would be allowed to disturb this game.

There is no chance during the day, a somewhat mutual understanding for you two. Night time in comparison, is a different story. 

Anyone’s sleeping hours is their most vulnerable time of the day, Childe is no exception. You do not plan to harm him, not that you don’t want to. But you are willing to swallow the pent up frustration towards him if you would never see his face again after this. Maybe beating up some slimes would help with the release?

You somehow managed to slip a mixture of herbs into his tea. Since he would buy cooking ingredients for you from time to time, you had requested a bunch of herbs along with the ingredients of a sleep inducing medicine you remembered. Although Childe does all he can to keep you near him, there are inevitable hours that he needs to be somewhere without you. He cannot jeopardize your safety with troublesome monsters. On a side note, he loves showing you off to anyone, his colleagues, acquaintances, business partners, anyone he does not deem a threat.

Enough time for you to make those herbs into powder and cover it up with a few spoons of milk. Tea with milk has become quite popular in Liyue as of late. Childe has grown to love them, so you have learned how to mix it up. He always let you handle his food and drinks, saying that he “trusts you”. What you do not know is this is one of the openings he exposed on purpose. It’s not like you can aquire anything deadly under his suffocating supervision.

Your plan will work, or so you think. Childe will not wake up when you wiggle out of his grasp, because dreamland will keep him occupied. All you need is a glider and a usable sword from Liyue and you’ll get your life back. Bottling up extreme emotions has certainly taken a toll on your mind, but it will be worth it if that is the prerequisite of being free.

Something about this being so easy sits ill with you. Have you really been with the youngest Fatui Harbinger this whole time? But that was brushed off your shoulders by the sheer excitement of regaining your long lost freedom. You know Liyue is in walking distance, all you need to do is cross these woods and-

The moment you dive into the forest, you think you heard an amused chuckle. 

That smooth voice terrifies you to no end, the same voice you took orders from for the past month.

Oh, how Childe loves seeing you happy. It’s priceless, both literally and figuratively. No matter how many things he buys you, you had not shown him even one small smile. Enjoy your sweet freedom, because it ain’t going to last. You certainly will know your place after this right? If not you are just dumber then he give you credit for.

That glow of relief in your eyes is worth every last bit of this intense dizzying feeling to Childe. To make sure your plan go through, he had drunk the tea without hesitation, quick enough to catch the momentarily excitement you expressed. He knows the game is on, therefore he had given the night patrol guards the entire evening off. Forcing himself to stay concious by digging his nails into his palms, Childe followed you into the woods.

Your potion is quite strong. Excellent, you’ll have to give him the recipe for informational purposes later. Especially how you managed to achieve such effects with a few herbs you had. He never took you to be anything less than a smart girl, but this has exceeded his expectations. Where’s the fun in a game without challenges?

How you storm through the forest wearing that cute terrified expression looks so endearing, it’s surely not his fault if he wants to enjoy this sight to be longer right.

So, each time you feel the slightest at ease due to whatever reason, expect Childe to make some sound to send you running like your life depends on it again. The sadistic man is hunting you down playfully, like a cat chasing a stray mouse to the inevitable corner.

You know he is toying with you. There is nothing you can do to make him shut up though.

“Love, you had scratched your leg. Must hurts by the looks of it.”

“Liyue is that way, you know.”

“Are you tired? If you want to jog in the middle of the night, you should have called me to come along!”

How can he say those things nonchalantly while you are trying to escape from him?  Here he is, daunting you with that signature smile he wears so very often. That is when reality slaps you right in the face. No matter how hard you plan, no matter how fast you run, there is no getting rid of him.

When your stamina runs out, a simple pull and push on your left wrist is enough to let you fall onto the ground panting. Even now, you still refuse to beg for mercy. You would take the cold grounds to the warmth of Childe’s embrace anyday. 

“Aw, burnt out already? Pathetic. Looks like we need to work on your stamina more. But this is not the place for exercise.”

“Look at me.” His slender but forceful fingers tilt your head up, making you look into those ocean blue orbs. There is anger present in his eyes, but those emotions are more a mixture of delight and that. His smile had also been replaced by a mocking smirk. “You, trying to leave me? Your sense of humor is...well, let’s just call it unique. Lucky for you, you amused me nonetheless.”

“I know what you’re thinking. How I’m a selfish jerk and you hate me. Why be so ungrateful? You get to live in luxury thanks to me, you know. I am selfish, yes, but look how stupid you are. I know you added something extra in my evening tea, my beloved.”

“Come now, we are going to do some exercises suited for a night like this once we’re back home. It is our one month milestone, after all. You had already given me your gift, it is only fair for you that I do the same.”

Childe is not making a sarcastic remark. The thrill of that chase was the best fun he had in months. And you are going to love his gift too, maybe not right away, but surely sometimes after. 

You have to mentally prepare yourself for the worst as he dragged you back to the prison, hopefully you’ll still be able to walk properly after whatever Childe got in store.

[bakugosbratx]

NSFW 18+ Plushie - Dom! Bakugo x Bratty! Reader

WARNING: Everyone in the story is 18+ and consensual. Bdsm, DDLG, spanking, sexual content, harsh language, daddy bakugo, bratty/submissive reader, etc.

Check out my other similar works here

A/N: I had fun writing this one. So enjoy my fellow brats. My request are open so send them to me. Thank you for the 100+ followers 🥺 more bratty reader x dom bakugo content is on its way.

Words: 1,450

"Suki! Please!" You begged again as you walked past a store full of your favorite anime characters.

"No." Katsuki harshly states and continues walking. You were on his last nerve today. You woke up in a bratty mood and was taking it out on Katsuki. This man only has so much patience he can give and you made sure to take up every ounce of it.

You were getting desperate. You couldn't help you were a collector and loved collecting anything cute. Especially when it came to your favorite anime(s). It also didn't help you lived in Japan which was full of all things anime. Katsuki always spoils you wether he likes to admit it or not, but in your mind, you really needed this. It was the cutest plush of your favorite anime character. Granted, Katsuki would argue you have too many plushies at home and he was not wrong, but that didn't change your mind as you tried to dig your heels into the ground.

"Daddy please!" You whine.

Katsuki turned to look at you.

"Nice try, but answer is still no, dumbass."

You pout and continue to protest to go into the store, but Katsuki's grip is firm and strong. That still didn't stop you from putting up a fight. One of the many characteristics Katsuki loved and hated about you. You are just as stubborn and persistent as he is.

Katsuki let go of your hand and turned around to face you. You could tell he is a ticking time bomb and you have pushed your limit with him today. You have dated the ashy-blonde long enough to not be scared, though. You're still his girlfriend no matter how much of a brat you can be.

"Tch. Y/N, I am really not in the mood to deal with your shit right now. You have to the count of three to act right or your ass will be sorry." Katsuki warns while clicking his tongue.

You cross your arms and huff as you stand your ground. You wanted your way and you planned on getting it no matter what.

"One."

You didn't budge.

"Two."

Okay, a little more concerning.

"Three."

Katsuki picked you up and put you over his shoulder. The crowded shopping center stared as you demanded your strong boyfriend to put you down. You have pissed him off many times in public, but never to this degree. You actually were a bit nervous as he carried you into the store you wanted and walked into the nearest dressing room.

Katsuki set you down to your feet once he locked the door. You didn't meet his fuming interrogating gaze in fear you would meet under the heat from his anger.

"You're really lucky I'm being nice and punishing you in a secluded area since you decided to put on a show out there." He states.

You knew what that meant as you watched your significant over sit in the chair. He patted his knee for you to come sit. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you slowly made your way over to Katsuki. You sat in his lap - otherwise known as your throne - and refused to meet his harsh gaze.

"What's the matter? You don't want to face the repercussions of your shitty actions, brat?"

"I'm sorry, daddy." You say, sincerely.

He chuckled scornfully before starting to pull down your pants and underwear.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are. Try to be quiet while I make this pretty ass of yours bruised, got it?"

You pout as he bends you over his lap. You should've known this was bound to happen. You just didn't expect him to do it in public. A quickie? Sure, but punishment? This wasn't like Katsuki. He always said if you were going to act like a brat in public he is going to punish you in public. He has never done it, but you usually don't act up this much in a day for him to do so. You really pushed your luck.

"Yes."

You wince as a hard slap hits your left ass cheek.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl. You do know how to listen."

You brace yourself as Katsuki follows through with the punishment. You did your best to be quiet, but Katsuki being who he is, he made sure you counted and thanked him for each slap. He even made you say it loud enough for people in the store to hear you. Also, Katsuki was not a gentle spanker. When he gives his punishment, he makes sure you remember it. This time was no different. It's only fair since you decided to embarrass him, right?

After 25 smacks, some using his quirk to make sure you have a friendly reminder, he helps you pull up your pants and panties. Your eyes were puffy from the small sobs and tears the flowed out during the process. You were about to walk out when Katsuki cleared his throat to grab your attention.

"Where do you think you're going?" Katsuki asked, leaning back in the seat, with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. If you weren't embarrassed and upset with him right now, you would be riding his dick at this exact moment.

"N-Nowhere." You stammered, trying so hard not to give him a snark remark.

"Damn right you're not. Your punishment isn't over."

You let out a sigh of frustration before walking back over to him.

"On your knees." Katsuki instructs.

"R-right here? Don't you think we will get caught?"

"Does it look like I give a fuck, princess?"

You couldn't argue with that logic. Katsuki was never one to care about others and their opinions. So, you do as your told. You were not in the mood to do what you were about to do, but you are the submissive after all. You're surprised and blessed that Katsuki only gave you 25 spankings. Especially since you have been on his bad side all day today.

"You know what to do."

You begin unbuttoning Katsuki's black skinny jeans and pull down his underwear to reveal his hard dick. Katsuki just stayed in the same position as before with a smirk as he watched you go to work. He enjoyed you taking all of cock in your mouth. He usually likes to participate in thrusting his dick down your throat, but considering all of the hell you put him through today, he was taking this time to relax.

Your tongue played with the tip of his thick cock before you slowly take in inch by inch into your mouth. At some point, Katsuki's hands found his way to your soft hair as he made some groans and moans. He could tell you were struggling to take in all of his dick and he liked that.

"Someone struggling to take all of my cock in their mouth, hm?” Katsuki coo’s as he ruffles your hair some.

You glared at him as you continue to do your task. He smirked some more.

“Want to say something?” Katsuki asked as he used some explosion with his hand for extra effect. That took the glare right off your face.

“Didn’t think so. I suggest you get more to work, princess. I’m not cumming anytime soon.”

You continue to suck his dick. You do your best to deep throat as much as possible. Especially to prove a point you did not need his help getting his huge shaft down your throat. Usually, he forces it down your throat so you did not need to work as hard, but this time was different. Katsuki is finding amusement out of this.

After about five more minutes of you bobbing your head, making choking noises, glossed eyes, runny nose, and puffed lips later, Katsuki finally climaxed. You swallowed his cum like a good girl and take his shaft out of your mouth.

“About time.”

You tried so hard to not roll your eyes so you closed them for a moment. Katsuki pats your head before he buttons his pants back up.

“Now. Let’s go get you that plush you’ve been begging me for, brat.”

You smile but it suddenly drops.

“What about my face? Everyone probably knows what happened.” You state with embarrassment.

“Oh, trust me. They know. Let them see what happens when brats disobey their daddies.” Katsuki smirks as he helps you up and out the dressing room. You trailed closely behind him, ignoring the stares and comments people were saying. Needless to say, you got your plushie and even an extra thing you wanted.

The overall thing you learned today was not to mess with daddy.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

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.

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It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[folkloreguk]

Shower Thoughts

A/N: I like writing about personal emotions a lot…this feels a little like writing a diary but also like self-therapy and it really helps me. I hope anyone who also feels this way knows that they’re not alone with those feelings. Also happy birthday to the sweetest @sunghoonied!! I wrote this thinking of you and I hope you have the best day ♡ PS. I didn't proofread this so if you find errors kindly lmk please! x

genre: optional bias (male), meant to comfort you, angst, fluff, talk of loneliness / anxiety but with a good ending!

words: ~ 2.5 k

taglist: @lovely-ateez, @mochi-ficz, @soundsofminho, @runaway-fics

People said that walking was supposed to clear your mind. But then why was it, that you had gotten so lost in your worst thoughts out there? The time spent in fresh air was meant to let your mind wander to calm places and smiling at strangers should have made you feel less lonely. But with every step you took and with every passing face your body felt heavier. Not only did you carry your figure, but the crushing burden that had been nagging at you for weeks.

Watching others stroll around the streets seemed so easy. And perhaps it should have been easy, after all. It made you wonder, maybe you were the only one whose mind was constantly covered in dark rain clouds. Maybe everyone had their place in the world, and they knew just where and with whom they belonged. Surely, they didn’t overthink every conversation they had with a random stranger. Did their brain also function merely on autopilot in public, while the back of your mind was chaos of doubt and fear? Was there anybody else who spent day to day worrying about never finding someone who could deal with the burden of you and your issues? How was somebody else going to love you if you were this sad?

Those people that care about you are the ones you should be honest with, after all. There was no brushing off the How Are You question with a quick “I’m fine”. How could someone deal with the real answer you would give? You didn’t want to pull anybody down with you when you were hurting. So then again, maybe it was for the better your apartment was always empty when you came home. With no one to ask you about your feelings, you couldn’t cause anyone else agony and worry. Your own pain was enough – one person was enough to deal with it.

You shoved your shoes in the corner next to your door. If it wasn’t for your mental state, you would’ve guessed your jacket was a hundred kilos heavy. But even after you had peeled it off, nothing changed. You dragged your body to the bathroom.

You’d be so proud if only you could go one day without crying. And you had almost made it, had it not been for the godforsaken shower water. There was something about seeing the droplets on your skin and on the tiles that caused your tears to come out freely. The noise of the shower made you feel shut off from the rest of the world. Now it was just you and your salty ocean tears. The tears united with the shower water. It was hard to tell which drops on your cheek had originated in your swollen eyes and which had fallen from the shower head. This way, it seemed almost as if there was an invisible force that was wiping over your face, trying to appease your sobs.

But there was nobody. And that was why you only cried harder. If only you had listened to your own words when you tried to cheer yourself up. Then maybe you would feel better when you wrapped your arms around your own body. You were desperate. The notion that someone could hold you like this, one day, should have gifted you at least some form of hope. But no, you knew it wouldn’t happen any time soon. Not with this mindset and your sadness.

You hiccupped helplessly. This was all so tiring. Before you knew it, you sat down on the shower floor under the hot stream. At least there was no one waiting to get into the shower after you. So you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about blocking the bathroom and wasting all the hot water. For a few minutes you remained on the floor, drowning out your cries under the splashing sound. You felt the impulse to scream. Look, I’m here! I’m a person with interests and passions and emotions! Doesn’t anybody see me? I’m sick of only existing! Won’t somebody teach me how to live?

But at most, that would cause you a noise complaint. If only you weren’t so terrible at talking to people. Maybe you could make a friend someday – when your anxiety got better. Like in a trance, you finally switched off the water and grabbed your towel. You were so utterly lost in your thoughts, that everything went by as if you were only watching from the sidelines. You got out of the shower, dried off, put on some body lotion – an attempt at self-care – and got dressed in the most comfortable, baggy clothes you owned.

What on earth would you do tonight? There really were only so many ways you could have fun (or rather distract yourself from feeling down) when you were all by yourself and everything reminded you of how lonely you were. The option of just going to sleep slipped past you. But you weren’t tired enough. You knew you’d lie awake for hours, left alone with your thoughts. And crying yourself to sleep was the last thing you wanted right now.

So you opted for the most mainstream idea: Netflix. You plopped down on the sofa, a steaming hot cup of tea on the small table in front of you. Now you only had one thing left to do. You needed to choose some stupid show and let the problems of tv characters invade your brain and pray they would shove out your own issues. You weren’t even hungry. Although there was a part of you that wished it could have eaten your weight in chocolate, but you knew that had little to do with hunger.

Just as you reached for the remote control, the sound of your doorbell made you jump. I’ll just let it be. They’ll think I’m not home and leave. Those thoughts came right away. It made you curse yourself. You had just cried over feeling alone, but now you’re shutting out some random neighbor who probably just needs some tiny favor from you. Way to go. So, more to prove a point to yourself than to be friendly, you stepped to your door and opened it.

“Hi.” It was your neighbor. Your handsome, kind neighbor, who you always met at the local grocery store. You were so mentally exhausted you didn’t even feel self-conscious about looking the way you did. Although you hoped your eyes had recovered from the redness, at least a little. “Hi,” you greeted him back.

“Look, I really don’t want to be intrusive. And if you want me to leave, I will,” he said. He fumbled with his hands, as if he was nervous about his words. “But I kind of heard you…cry…in the shower. And I know you live alone, and I figured if you’re crying you probably don’t have any company. I guess I just wanted to check whether you’re okay. Do you have someone to talk to?”

With every word your heart only sped up. You felt like a trapped rabbit in a corner and the meaning of his message only sunk in slowly. Yes, of course. I’ll call my friend and talk to them,you wanted to say. But that would have been a massive lie. And you just couldn’t lie to him. Not when he stood there, in his fuzzy sweater and fresh-out-the-shower damp hair, with eyes so worried and attentive. You weren’t sure if it was from how touched you were by his concern for you, or if it was your sadness catching up to you again. Before you could swallow your tears, your eyes filled to the brim and your vision turned blurry.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, not sure what for. Hurriedly, you used your sweater paw to wipe your leaking eyes. You didn’t want him to feel bad for you, but now you had achieved just that and more. Your embarrassment set in and you finally came out with the truth. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“No need to be sorry. It’s alright. We all have those days, don’t we? I just want you to know that you’re not alone. And I have nothing to do…so if you need someone to talk to, or even just to keep you company…I can stay with you for a bit…or you can come over to mine. I just don’t want you to feel alone. But if you would prefer to be by yourself, that’s okay. People deal with things differently.”

You were so baffled that your ability to speak completely fell through. The idea of someone, an almost-stranger, going so out of their way to make sure you were okay blew you away. He knew nothing about you. But here he was, taking a chance on you, nonetheless. Only then you realized you probably looked like a fool, staring at him but failing to answer. Quickly, you prompted yourself to open your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“What were you doing just now?” he asked. “Any plans for the evening?”

“I was going to watch a movie, I guess,” you said. “And I think some company would be very nice.”

He smiled at you like was your childhood best friend and you had just reconnected after years of being apart. That’s why it felt the more natural to let him enter your apartment. You got into small talk about what it was like living in the building and how his apartment had a mirrored structure to yours. The simplest conversation took your mind off your sorrow right away. You felt like thanking him would be a little dramatic after he had barely settled on your sofa, so you kept it to yourself. Either way, the small smile on your face felt like warm, soothing sunlight on your skin after eight consecutive days of rain.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asked. You thought for a moment.

“No, I think I’d rather just distract myself,” you said. Even though you were grateful for having him here, you feared if you spilled your guts to him you would only scare him away.

“Alright,” he said without judgement. “What film were you planning on watching?”

And so you started your movie. There was a respectful distance between you on the sofa. But his simple presence next to you was more than you could have asked for tonight. He was like a heater, providing safety and comfort in the coldest winter. Hearing someone else chuckle at the jokes in the movie along with you was magnificent. His laughter sounded like a rainbow. It seeped into your body and your soul straightened up and bloomed like a parched flower being watered after all this loneliness.

But even under all the light, your problems were still here, waiting to nag at you. You knew they would consume you when he returned to his own apartment later. They would laugh at you for trying to socialize but staying closed off as always. Just because someone saw you didn’t mean they understood you and who you are. And how was one supposed to make human connections if they treated their thoughts like strictly confidential information in front of everybody? No, you had to tell him.Impulsively, you pressed the stop-button on the remote. He shot you a questioning gaze.

“I- I think maybe I do want to talk about something,” you confessed.

“You can tell me anything. I promise it’ll be safe with me. Let out whatever bothers you,” he said. His lovely, warm eyes were inviting like a haven for you. So you just started to talk. All your frustrations and reasons for anxiety were exiting your lips, floating all around you in the room. Airing out your weary brain finally, after holding everything in for weeks, was uncaging and nothing had felt this good in so long. Although your sadness wasn’t something that could be fixed by doing a task, the more thoughts and worries you explained to him, the easier it became. It wasn’t long before you felt your tears well up once more.

“It’s okay,” he said with his hand on your shoulder. This time, you didn’t try so hard to blink them away. Where there were emotions, there were tears, and he was right. It was fine to let them out. Through sniffles you finished telling him your issues.

“Is this okay?” he asked, gently putting his arm around your shoulder to hold your shaking figure. You hummed and nodded in agreement. His warmth was like a blanket to shelter you from the anxiety, if even just for a short while.

“I don’t expect you to know a solution,” you said. “I need to wait for it to get better. It’ll get better, eventually.”

“You’re right. It will all resolve,” he said. “I’m sorry things are so difficult. But you’re not alone, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Time will heal, I promise,” he said. “And until then, you have to hold on and keep going. The world’s a little cruel sometimes, when it shuts out the ones who struggle and don’t do as well as others. But you’re as much of a part of it as any other human on the street. And you’re just as important as them. You weren’t born to be successful or to achieve things. You’re here to live and be happy. So promise me to take care of yourself, and be gentle to yourself. Because you’re the only person that will be with yourself every second until the end. Please don’t be hard on yourself and have patience for good things to come around. And if it all feels like it’s too much for you, don’t feel guilty about reaching out for help. You can always ring my doorbell if you need something.”

“Thank you so much,” you cried. Your cheek rested on his shoulder and you sat in silence for a while. It was unbelievable which wonders such a small conversation between two people could do. Your heart felt lighter and the thoughts were no longer racing through your head. Peace was settling in, and you welcomed it more than ever.

“Now that I’ve told you about me, what kind of person are you?” you asked through tears. He chuckled a little. All you knew until now was that he had a heart of gold. Which, to be fair, meant your impression of him was off to a pretty good start already. Your thoughts were cautious as you wondered…Maybe he could be my friend.

You abandoned the movie. Instead, you spent all evening chatting about whatever came to your mind. You discussed childhood dreams, favorite dishes, your best playlists down to the cutes dog breeds you had ever seen. It felt great, getting to know somebody. And your suspicions came true. His big heart wasn’t the only thing admirable about him. He was funny and knew just what to say when you felt awkward or shy. When you slipped into bed that night, you did so with a smile on your face. You had always told yourself that you weren’t alone. But sometimes, the most optimistic person needed a small reminder coming from somebody else. Here was yours.

[lesbianrobin]

What do you think are the good and bad aspects of each season of ST?

ok 1. thank u for this question omg and 2. this answer may or may not be a mess, but either way it’s long (almost 7k words lmao) bc i’m insane, which is why it’s under a cut. it’s still by no means an exhaustive list but these are the things that just kinda came to mind.

also i realize you asked “good and bad” and i wrote this whole post as “strengths and weaknesses” which um. is not Exactly what you asked. but close enough <3 i also ended up including a lot of au ideas ksjdckmn bc like i personally hate when people say a certain plot or whatever was bad without suggesting anything that could have improved it yknow so whenever possible i tried to provide Some idea for fixing the issues i had with the show!!

season 1

strengths (this is probably gonna be the longest section but that’s because a lot of these strengths also apply to s2/s3 by default)

nostalgia and authenticity

this one’s pretty simple, but i think that season one did a good job of blending classic eighties media homages (such as the many many e.t./el parallels) with explicit pop culture references (such as mike’s yoda impression, mentions of the x-men, etc) to create a show that’s essentially dripping in early eighties nostalgia without it feeling too forced. before st, i think the most popular depiction of the eighties in mainstream media was that overly exaggerated neon scrunchie aesthetic from the mid to late eighties, and it was usually done in a comedic sense first and foremost. st took a different approach, instead focusing on the early eighties, a time that’s often ignored in favor of going either Full Seventies or Full Eighties, and i think that this choice likely resonated with adults who lived through the eighties and hadn’t yet seen something that felt quite so accurate to their own adolescence. a lot of young people who watched st were totally unfamiliar with this period of time, unfamiliar with books/movies like “stand by me” that st borrows from heavily, and i think st lent more seriousness to the eighties than most young people had experienced so far, and this was refreshing and interesting!

the use of dnd in the show is also quite genius in a way i’m not sure i can articulate?? it isn’t something Everyone would have played at the time, but it’s something that existed within a different context back in the eighties than it does today, and it really lent a sort of authenticity to the naming of the show’s sci-fi elements. like, of course these kids would name parallel dimensions and monsters and superpowers after these similar things in their favorite game! it just feels so real and it grounds st in our reality moreso than you might expect from the typical sci-fi or horror universe.

utilization of existing tropes

almost every single character in st clearly originates from some popular trope. the plot itself is riddled with classic eighties movie tropes. almost every single element of stranger things can be clearly traced back to some iconic eighties film or just to, like, overused horror/sci-fi/mystery/coming-of-age movie tropes in general. this might sound like a bad thing, but it really works in st’s favor! starting off with familiar tropes gives st the ability to easily create a lot of complexity and make a big impact by selectively deviating from those familiar, comfortable tropes!! while el’s whole plot, hopper’s character, etc, are all examples of this in action, i think the steve/nancy/jonathan plot is the greatest example. even from the start, the fact that good girl barb dies while nancy is off having sex with her asshole boyfriend is an incredibly thorough inversion of the most well-known horror movie trope in the book. how often do girls in horror movies have sex for the first time, walk home alone in the dark of night, and live to tell the tale? nancy and jonathan’s dynamic at first glance is a sort of classic “good girl meets boy from the wrong side of the tracks, discovers he’s actually got a heart of gold” thing, but instead of following this well-trodden path, st diverged. nancy is brash, impulsive, and at times downright insensitive. jonathan is angry, bitter, and actually a bit of a creep at first. while they have the capacity to emotionally connect and support one another, they can also bring out each other’s darker side, which is not what we’ve come to expect from that initial tropey dynamic.

in addition, steve, the popular rich asshole boyfriend, is actually... a human being! unlike the cartoonishly evil jocks that we’ve come to expect (especially from eighties movies), steve has complexity. despite his initial immaturity and selfishness, he’s also kind to barb, he backs off when nancy says no, he’s gentle and sweet when they sleep together, his first big Dick Move of the season is in defense of nancy, he realizes the error of his ways after the fight and does what he can to fix it, he’s worried about nancy when he sees that she’s hurt at jonathan’s house, and to top it all off, he ends up saving both nancy and jonathan’s lives when he could have just walked away, and the three of them all work together to fight the demogorgon. like... steve began as the most stereotypical character of all time, and by the end of the season, he had one of the most compelling and unique arcs among the whole cast!

finally, at the very end of the season, instead of dumping steve for jonathan as expected, nancy ends up getting back together with steve, and they’re both on friendly terms with jonathan. i realize that i just kinda. summarized s1. but my POINT is that i don’t think the dynamics between the monster hunting trio would be nearly as fun and interesting had the characters of nancy, steve, and jonathan not been set up to follow certain paths that we already had charted in our own heads. like, within the first couple episodes of s1, it’s pretty obvious that nancy and steve are gonna break up, nancy will get with jonathan, and steve will either die or go full evil or just never be seen again. like, duh! you’ve seen this story a million times! you know that’s how it’s gonna go! so, when the story DOESN’T go that way, the impact of each character’s arc and the relationship dynamics become stronger due to their unexpected complexity and authenticity. 

distinct plotlines separated by age group

this one’s rather obvious, but the way that the adults in s1 were essentially in a conspiracy thriller while the teens were in a horror flick and the kids were in a sci fi power-of-friendship story and all three converged at the end... wow. brilliant showstopping etc. not only was it just really well done and unique, it also gave stranger things near-universal appeal. like, there’s genuinely something for pretty much everyone in season one!

casting

obviously this applies to every season sorta by default, but when i think about what made season one So successful, i always think about the cast, and not just winona ryder. yes, she’s absolutely amazing in the show and it’s very doubtful that st would be as big as it is today without her name being attached to it from the start!! however, i think the greatest determining factor in st’s success is the casting of the kids, particularly millie bobby brown. like... el is just absolutely incredible. she’s amazing. this has all been said many times before so i won’t harp on it, but millie and the other kids are all So talented and charismatic and i think their casting has been instrumental to the show’s success.

strong visuals

the way that multicolored christmas lights which have been around for decades are now kinda like. a Stranger Things thing. jesus christ. those lights are probably the biggest stroke of stylistic genius on the show.

atmosphere and setting

this is probably like. the least important one here for me sdjncdsc because i think s2 and s3 both had like Even Better atmospheres and shit but s1 was good too and it laid the groundwork!! i know a lot of people would have preferred st be set somewhere more Spooky with lots of fog or giant forests or whatnot, and while i do enjoy thinking about alternate st settings and how they might alter the vibe, i think hawkins indiana was a good choice. as the duffers have said, placing stranger things in a fictional town allows them more flexibility than if they’d gone with their original plan of using montauk, new york. besides that, i think the plainness and like... flatness... of small-town indiana just Works. like, the fact that hawkins is never really scary on the surface is a big part of the horror in the lab’s actions and their impact. hawkins isn’t somewhere that people just disappear all the time. it isn’t somewhere known for strange occurrences (prior to s1, that is). it isn’t somewhere shrouded in mist and secrecy. hawkins on its surface seems like the sort of place with no secrets and nothing to fear, and that’s the point! the lab is out in the open! it’s right there! everything is so close to the surface, yet so far out of the public eye, and i think that really works.

the byers family’s whole deal (specifically the joyce/jonathan dynamic)

this is going here bc i miss it so bad in s2 and s3. i’m not one of those people who believe The Byers Are The Whole Point of the show, because st is and always has been an ensemble, and el, hopper, and the wheelers are just as instrumental to the plot as the byers, but ANYWAY, i do think the byers were one of the most interesting aspects of s1. joyce’s difficulties with supporting her sons as a poor and (implied mentally ill) single mother, jonathan’s stress as a result of having to earn money, care for his brother, and keep the house in order when his mother is unable to do so, and the resulting tension between them when will’s disappearance and supposed “death” brings the situation to a tipping point? holy shit! it’s so good! that argument after they see will’s “body” is just incredible and gut-wrenching. their relationship feels so real and messy and i think it’s just... good. also winona ryder REALLY acted her heart out and she carried a lot of s1 which i think people often forget to mention so i’m saying it here.

weaknesses

pacing/timing

ok so pacing is probably going to go in each season’s weaknesses, to be honest, because i think they all had a blend of some good and some bad pacing. good pacing is invisible pacing, though, so i probably won’t be putting it in any of the strengths sections and will only be focusing on it in the weaknesses. i’m also probably not going to talk about weird day/night cycle things, just because i don’t want to get nitpicky on timelines because that would require going back and rewatching things to double check timing which i don’t wanna do at the moment lmao. anyway, when i think of bad pacing in season one, i primarily think of two things: nancy’s little trip into the upside down and subsequent sleepover with jonathan, and the sort of staggered nature of the climax in the final episode. the latter is simple so i’ll explain it first: while i understand that each group’s respective climax is like part of a chain reaction and that’s why each big moment happens separately and at different times, i think that st is strongest when the whole group is together, and i think that makes the stakes feel higher too, so i’m not In Love with the way s1 separated everyone and gave each group their own climax. 

okay, now on to the nancy/upside down thing! idk if i’ve ever talked about it before, but i think the worst decision made in s1 by far is the inclusion of nancy’s brief trip into the upside down, wherein she dives headfirst into another dimension with absolutely no backup, watches the demogorgon chow down, freaks out and runs around for a minute, and then leaves. like... what the fuck? even putting aside what an idiotic decision this was (because i do think nancy’s tendency to rush into things headfirst is an intentional and consistent character trait), it just kind of destroys any remaining suspense surrounding the demogorgon and the upside down, and it accomplishes basically nothing besides scaring nancy enough to have jonathan sleep over, which is lame. i will break it down.

like, first of all, nancy just getting to waltz in and out of the upside down and get a good, long look at the demogorgon makes the entire thing far less mysterious, and by extension far less scary. like... before this scene, we the audience haven’t got a good look at the demogorgon. we’ve seen its silhouette briefly and we’ve seen a blurry picture of it, but nothing more, and i think that is far more effective at building fear than this jaunt nancy goes on which gives us a full view of the thing and makes it into less of a horrifying nightmare and into more of a humanoid animal. like, maybe this is just me, but i found the demogorgon far less intimidating after that scene than before. it also lets nancy and jonathan know For Sure that they’re right without providing any crucial information that they need to fight the demogorgon (aka it’s unnecessary to the plot), which removes a very compelling story element (the faith nancy and jonathan need to have in order to keep going against a vague and poorly understood enemy, the doubt they might have about each other and their own sanity, the possibility that they might be wrong, the trust they need to have in each other) a bit earlier in the plot than i believe is ideal. at the end of episode 5, nancy goes into the upside down and jonathan doesn’t know where she is and it’s intense!!! you’re thinking like, oh fuck, not only is nancy missing and fighting for her life now too, jonathan might be implicated in her disappearance!! some people already think he’s the one who killed will and people know that he took creepy pictures of barb and nancy before they both disappeared, maybe this is gonna cause some serious problems for him!! maybe nancy will find will in the upside down and she’ll help him survive!! fuck, maybe she’ll actually die!! this is huge!! and then episode 6 starts and they’re immediately like oh nevermind jonathan found the tree and got nancy out and she’s fine. my point with all of this is that nancy entering the upside down could have done A Lot in the grand scheme of the plot, but all it did was just... get jonathan to sleep over so he and nancy could have some awkward romance moments and steve could see them together and pick a fight. which could have honestly happened at Any point while nancy and jonathan were working together to hunt down the demogorgon, without ruining the demogorgon’s and the upside down’s mystique. so yeah <3

weird behavior and dumbass decisions that make no sense (aka the whole camera thing)

gonna go off about the teen plot again sorry but: why was nancy so unbothered and quick to forgive jonathan for taking those pictures? girl what the fuck are you doing? why wasn’t that a bigger deal? why was jonathan’s motivation for doing it so weak and why did they just kind of forget about the whole thing? why did nancy TRACK HIM DOWN AT THE FUNERAL HOME while he was PICKING OUT HIS BABY BROTHER’S CASKET to be like hey can you tell me what’s in this creepshot you took? it’s insane. it’s so insane. i mean i think the funeral home thing is hilarious and i don’t mind it being in the show necessarily but like my point here is that i think a lot of character decisions in s1 just kind of.. happened because they Needed to happen for the plot. like, they wrote this plot that required jonathan to be secretly taking pictures of the party and required him and nancy to work together after seeing something odd in the pictures, but they didn’t like... really consider what that event would mean for their characterization and relationship. the whole thing was sort of just dropped with minimal discussion and i think it did both nancy and jonathan’s characters a disservice and was really mishandled.

lighting and saturation/color grading

i am literally begging horror/sci-fi shows to let me see shit. i GET IT okay i understand that when you’re doing cgi effects it helps to keep the lights down and i’m not mad at any of the lighting in the demogorgon/upside down scenes!! i’m really not i think the demogorgon scenes in s1 all look sick!! but like... dude. the colors. where are they. why does everyone look like a vampire. i know blah blah this was probably an intentional stylistic choice intended to mimic film at the time blah blah but dude a lot of old movies are very colorful!! please just let people have color in their faces so everyone doesn’t look like a sheet of paper!!! also i’m white and not a professional lighting designer so yknow grain of salt but i think lucas was kinda poorly served by the lighting sometimes in s1. not Hugely so, not to the degree that i’ve seen poc be poorly served by lighting in other shows, but there were some times where it felt kinda like the lighting setup was just not designed with darker skin in mind. 

horror

i just personally don’t find s1 very scary like... ever. i don’t think they were really Trying to be extremely scary yknow so i’m not counting this as a big deal, but i do think that each season has improved on the horror aspects. i think s1′s horror lies more in the mystery and the unknown than in what’s seen onscreen, and as i’ve said already, i think s1 kind of fumbled that suspense ball.

season 2

strengths

the possession plot

i’ll warn u rn this whole s2 strengths section is probably gonna be really short bc idk like. how much there is to really say i feel like it’s all so self-explanatory skjncmn. anyway yeah the possession plot!! eerie as fuck, and noah OWNED. so did winona tbh and finn and sean etc but like. noah. wow! i think the possession plot helped the show maintain a good amount of tension and suspense throughout the season, and a lot of scenes with possessed!will are flatout disturbing to watch. in a good way. i think the mindflayer and will’s possession were far more genuinely frightening than s1′s demogorgon, and it provided a new layer of depth and intrigue to the antagonist besides just “bad monster want eat people.”

tone and aesthetics

halloween season... literally halloween season. halloween season. that is all.

actually i will elaborate a bit and just say that i think s2 did a good job of having the sort of foreboding vibe that s1 was often going for, but without the annoying darkness and desaturation. so points for that.

also st2 is like one of the best Autumn pieces of media ever like it just. like steve and dustin on those train tracks with the fallen leaves all around them.... god. god the vibes are unparalleled. all of the halloween stuff also really contributes to the nostalgia st runs on yknow it makes you think about childhood and trick-or-treating and you kind of get transported like damn... i remember going to the rich neighborhoods to score the good candy..... idk i just think the whole thing is incredibly effective. 

“babysitter” steve

by sending nancy and jonathan off together, the show created a problem: what to do with steve? this problem pushed them to create the unconventional and unexpected duo of steve and dustin, and the world is so much brighter for it. seriously though we all know steve and dustin are great i don’t need to argue that point. all i’ll add is that i think allowing steve to grow in this way, serving as a mentor figure and becoming genuine friends with someone so unexpected, really took the originality of his character to the next level. no longer content just to defy his archetype, in s2 steve begins branching out in ways that never would have been considered in s1, creating an incredibly complex and interesting person from the sort of character that most shows would have simply written out or killed off for convenience’s sake. and it works and steve and dustin are such a joy to watch and i love them. <3

the lucas/max plot

so first of all max mayfield is the most perfect baby girl on god’s green earth and idk what i would do without her but anyway. i think lumax is the best romantic relationship in the show and not just because they’re the only ones with like an age-appropriate approach to the whole thing. it’s also because their relationship accomplishes more than just putting the two of them in a relationship!! lucas and max spending time together motivates billy to do his evil shit, providing more conflict in the narrative, and it also helps establish max as part of the group in a relatively natural way while giving both her and lucas a great subplot. lucas (and dustin) has a crush on the new girl, they start spending some time together, and lucas ends up needing to decide whether he’ll keep the secret of the upside down and lose her, or risk both of their lives by telling her the truth. that’s a pretty big, character-defining decision that he gets to make!! max has to choose whether to trust this boy she barely knows and endanger herself, or to walk away and stay safe, yet another great character-defining choice that also contributes to the sense we get as an audience of max as somebody who’s incredibly lonely and desperate for love and connection. this post is way too long already and i have a ton more to say so i’ll stop now but yeah i think lumax really Works in the show without ever distracting or detracting from the overall plot and narrative in the way that some other ships (coughjancycough) often do.

balance between the normal and abnormal

s2 i think did a pretty solid job of melding daily life with more fantastical sci-fi horror elements. i enjoyed seeing so much of the kids at school in the first few episodes!! you really get a strong sense of where they’re at in life, what their daily lives are like, and you get a sort of gradual shift into madness that makes everything feel more grounded than i think it would if they had just leapt straight into the horror shit, yknow? 

the el and hopper dynamic

go back and rewatch s2 and tell me that’s not one of the most moving portrayals of parenthood and trauma and growing up that you’ve ever seen. you can’t. or well you can but i won’t listen. i really can’t imagine stranger things without el and hopper’s relationship, and it’s my absolute favorite part of s2. their whole dynamic is so beautiful and complex, and gives them each amazing personal arcs in addition! the black hole scene is literally one of the show’s greatest moments of all time. any given scene between the two of them in s2 is just guaranteed to be heartwarming as well as heartbreaking, and i think that makes for an incredible show.

weaknesses

flashbacks

okay this applies to Every season they All have too many flashbacks but in s2 specifically... please stop showing me shit from season one. i watched it. i know what happened. you don’t need to spoon feed everything to me!! flashbacks can be a really helpful way of delivering information to an audience, but st has a bad habit of not only being kinda demeaning in how often they flash back to shit that the audience already knows, but they also have a bad habit of using flashbacks almost as a crutch to avoid having to deliver information subtly and naturally. 

you know i gotta say it... the lost sister

this is so sad. the lost sister really is like a great concept for an st episode, and i’m not mad about the idea of st taking a break from the normal action to focus on one story for a full episode, but the execution of it was just dreadful. kali and her crew feel very over-the-top and stereotypical, and its placement in the season totally kills the tension and excitement that was built in “the spy.” 

i think the lost sister honestly could have gone over far better, even with the stereotypical fake-feeling gang kali has, if they had just swapped it with “the spy” like... ok, the end of episode five has el setting off to find kali and will collapsing on the ground seizing. right? imagine if, instead of immediately following will to the lab, we’d followed el. we don’t know what’s happening with will, but it’s a very simple cliffhanger that leaves us on edge without making us feel cheated by the show cutting away. we follow el on her little journey, everything happens much the same as canon, and then at the end, el sees hopper in scrubs. she sees mike, screaming, sees that they’re both in danger. holy shit!!! what the fuck!!! what’s happened since we left will seizing on the ground??? we feel el’s fear and confusion. she decides to go home. and then... boom. “the lost sister” is over. now, we rewind, right back to will seizing on the ground, and “the spy” commences. we learn how they got into the danger that el saw in the end of “the lost sister,” and we sit on the edge of our seats all through “the spy” and “the mind flayer,” KNOWING that el is on her way back to save them but not knowing when she’ll arrive!! idk i don’t think that would have necessarily saved lost sister but i think it may have alleviated some of the issues that i and many others have with it, timing-wise.

the nancy/jonathan sidequest

once again, the idea of nancy going off on her own little mission to find justice for barb after s1 is like. amazing. genuinely i love that plot for her and i can’t imagine anything better for her to have focused on in s2. unfortunately though i think her and jonathan’s little trip to see murray was just kind of... lame. the whole thing just felt like an excuse to get the two of them alone together, yknow? which is fine i guess people contrive all sorts of situations to get characters alone together for romance reasons but in this case i think it just really doesn’t work for me because of what it’s juxtaposed with. like, will is POSSESSED, and jonathan is just off on a mini road trip and sleeping with his bestie, and jonathan never seems to communicate to joyce/will that he left town, and joyce never like... thinks to tell him that will is like sick and fucked up and they’re looking at him in the lab??? like it’s so weird i know joyce always forgets about jonathan when shit’s happening with will but jfc you’d think at some point in that like... 72-ish-hour period where jonathan was out of town she would have thought about him. like at least once. maybe i’m forgetting something and she mentioned him sometime and i missed it but even still, i hate the juxtaposition of nancy and jonathan just like cheers-ing at murray’s place and sleeping together and whatnot while everyone else is dealing with possession or trying to hunt down dart yknow? it feels really boring in comparison and i think it could have been done far better. like it was SO insanely easy for them to get into the lab and get an admission of guilt and escape with it!! i think it might have been a lot more engaging if maybe someone from the lab tailed them to murray’s place and they had to like lose the tail and race to get the recording out to as many news outlets as possible before they got caught, or something like that. the tension in their plotline is completely resolved in episode four!! episodes five and six are just them screwing around and addressing envelopes. while there were a lot of strong ideas in this plotline (i really enjoy nancy going out of her way to get justice, and the fact that they have to water down the story to make it believable), i just think the focus on nancy and jonathan getting together hindered it a lot without adding a ton to the plot or their individual characters.

season 3

strengths

starcourt mall as a setting

while i don’t think the mall was utilized quite to its full potential (something i could make a separate post about if anyone’s interested), i do think that starcourt was a genius addition to the series. i’ve said this before, but building a new mall is a literal Perfect in-universe justification for a significant leap forward in fashion and aesthetics, and it provides a great location for characters to just... be characters. idk how else to articulate this i just think that the mall is a great setting to let people interact with each other and to bring people together who may not have been otherwise (i.e. scoops troop). not to mention how sick it was to see the mall get wrecked toward the end kdjncdkm like they were able to do so much more with the mall in terms of like The Finale than they could with just the byers house or the cabin or the school or even the lab. i love all the back tunnels they run through it’s such a fun like acknowledgement of how this glitzy eighties mall is just a real place where employees get shipments and take out the trash and shit idk it’s all about the perfect facade and what’s hidden what’s underneath what’s hiding in plain sight etc etc i’m just saying words now. anyway. 

willingness to experiment and go against expectations

gay robin. neon aesthetics. giant fucking meat monster. i know some people hate both the neon and the meat monster but i personally think they were kind of amazing and like. yknow regardless of personal tastes i think it’s impossible to deny that s3 had a lot of incredible visuals, and they’re all visuals that just wouldn’t have been possible if the show were too afraid to stray from its s1 aesthetic. robin being canonically gay (and her resulting friendship with steve) and the season’s striking visuals are two things that most everyone (besides like homophobes skjncdknm) can agree were great, right? and they were both departures from where the show began and what we all expected!! so yeah i think while some of the experimentation in s3 wasn’t ideal it was also that experimentation that allowed for some of the season’s strongest elements to come about.

the hospital sequence (and the season’s action/horror scenes in general)

this one is fairly self-explanatory. while they may have underutilized the “body snatching” element of the season, the hospital sequence with nancy and jonathan fighting off their possessed bosses did an amazing job of building tension and creating a genuine sense of really intense and personal danger.

in general i think that s3 melded action and horror rather well, particularly in the sauna test, the hospital, and when the mindflayer busts through the roof of hop’s cabin. horror can come from many things, and in this case, st elicited horror largely from the feeling of helplessness, and it was really effective for me personally. i think it worked better for me than s1′s brand of horror because it doesn’t rely so much on a lack of knowledge or a sense of suspense that inevitable disappears upon a second viewing.

the body horror we got in s3 was also really fun! that’s it i just think all the blood and guts and slime were fun and i would like more of them. once again, the impacts of body horror are less dependent upon the viewer being in the dark or unsure as to what’s happening, and as such i think it tends to be a little more effective at eliciting reaction in the long term.

timing and mechanics of the battle of starcourt/finale

i think the battle of starcourt is just fucking awesome, and beyond that personal opinion, i think it’s the most high-stakes and intense finale of all three seasons, and this is for two main reasons! 1. el is out of commission, and 2. (almost) everyone is in the same cental location. this means that (almost) everyone is in danger all at once, and they are all working together at the same time to fight the same threat. s1/s2 have their groups more fragmented for the finales, and while i understand why in each case and i wouldn’t call either season’s finale necessarily weak, i do think the centralized nature of the s3 finale just Works on another level. in s1 and s2, large segments of the cast are already perfectly safe by the time el dispatches the primary threat. in s3, however, everybody save for dustin and erica is still in danger up until the last moment, and el is seemingly (you can def debate how much power she still had in her when she peeked into billy’s mind and whether the memory broke the mindflayer’s hold on him or if she was actually controlling him to some degree) completely vulnerable. this increases the tension and raises the stakes, making the finale a real crescendo to fortissimo as opposed to a series of little mezzo forte moments. i hope everyone reading this knows music idk how else to phrase that my brain is stupid.

emphasis on friendship and adolescence (but in a different way than s1/2)

this is definitely a controversial one but i think that s3 really did like... show a side of friendship that had been more or less unexplored thus far in the show. el and max were amazing, and i think it’s really nice that we got an opportunity to see the kids have some growing pains as well as see them support each other through Normal Adolescent Stuff like boyfriends and breakups instead of just like. death and trauma. this is maybe just a personal preference, but i think it can be really enlightening and provide a lot of depth when you get to see how characters respond to normal everyday conflict and not just how they respond to giant world-ending conflict!! letting el use her powers for goofy teenage shit like spying on boys and messing with mean girls at the mall is not only fun for her and the audience, but it also really emphasizes just how much those powers are a part of el, making it that much more devastating when she loses them at the end of the season. 

weaknesses

tonal dissonance

so this is like. obvious. but it must still be said! i won’t go on and on about it since we all know this so i’ll try to like talk about it from an angle people don’t usually? anyway. it seems to me like they were maybe a little worried about s3 being too dark. while the choice to really lean into humor was definitely driven by the sorts of eighties teen films from which s3 drew inspiration (like fast times at ridgemont high), i think it was also done in an attempt to alleviate the more troubling implications of some events in the season, particularly the russian bunker plot. like, yeah, st can be incredibly dark, but if they’d played the whole “children being stuck inside of a foreign military base, tied up, tortured, and drugged” thing completely straight without the humorous elements that exist in canon, it had the potential to be like... disturbing on a new level. steve and robin don’t have powers like el yknow their kidnapping/torture doesn’t have any sci-fi elements to sorta soften the blow. they’re just innocent teenagers being brutalized and traumatized by grown men. so anyway yeah i think maybe the writers were concerned about this storyline coming off as too dark and they wanted it to be a little more whimsical but they ended up pushing way too hard in that direction and creating extreme dissonance at times. this goes for joyce/hopper/murray/alexei too, but to a lesser extent. i think the ridiculousness in that group felt a lot more like... realistic. but still. 

newspaper plot

once again i feel like i don’t even need to say this skjdncmn we all know it was insane how the show basically ended up delivering the message “while misogyny is a serious problem poverty and classism are not” and i’ve said it on this blog a million times so i don’t need to repeat myself. i’ll focus on another weak point of this plot: the fact that it completely separates nancy and jonathan from everyone else. once again, the show’s preoccupation with j/ancy held them back! like... can you imagine a version of s3 where nancy and jonathan both worked in the mall? i have a lot of ideas about this possible au and like how the plot could play out differently if they worked in the mall but first of all it’s just more realistic, second of all it further utilizes the mall as a central setting, and third of all, it would bring everyone together. as it is in canon, nancy and jonathan were unnecessarily isolated from the rest of the group, and this isolation was detrimental to both of their characters. like, they only ever get to interact with each other! if they’d gotten summer jobs in the mall, they could have had more interactions with the kids/steve/robin, and they absolutely still could have had a similar argument! maybe in this case, nancy notices the rat thing (or something else odd) herself when taking out the trash behind the mall, and she wants jonathan to ditch work with her to check it out bc she thinks it may be related to the lab. jonathan doesn’t want to ditch work because he needs his job, nancy argues that they’re working shitty mall jobs anyway and who cares if they get fired, and we get more or less the same thing as s3 without the cartoonishly over-the-top misogyny. i mean honestly i think the rat shit could have been cut entirely it didn’t rly... accomplish much of anything. in my opinion. like imagine s3 without the rat plot you literally would not be missing anything except it would be more surprising when the dudes melted into goo at the hospital. so yeah i think it would have been better if nancy and jonathan had jobs at the mall, weren’t isolated from everybody else, and were maybe absorbed into the party’s plot or the scoops troop’s plot from very early on, allowing them to interact with more characters and have a less... dumb.... plot. like god splitting up nancy and jonathan between the party/scoops troop would have been So Much better i just. sdkjcnksdmn anyway yeah.

briefness of group reunion/separation of groups

remember in s2 at the beginning of “the gate,” where mike and hopper had a confrontation and max and el met for the first time and el hugged everyone and steve and nancy had their sad little moment together outside... where’s that energy? obviously the s2 reunion wasn’t that long either, but it made space for some significant emotional moments to take place. s3′s reunion had some hopper/el/mike resolution, but besides that... there was nothing, really. i just think that the whole group getting together in s3 was SO exciting and powerful the way they did it (with both the scoops troop and the adults having their own Big Moment reconnecting with team griswold family), but the emotional potential was more or less squandered. 

i also think in s3 at times they were really stretching to keep everybody separated even though it made no sense. and like... in s1 the separation worked bc nobody else knew that (x group) was experiencing weird shit too, and beyond that, each group (as i mentioned in the s1 section) was sort of operating within their own genre and bringing something unique to the season. they’ve stopped doing that though! now, the groups aren’t separate bc each plot is tonally/structurally different, the groups are just separate bc... they need to be, because it’s a big ensemble cast and you can’t just have them all be together for a whole season or it would be way too difficult to coordinate things and keep the show dynamic. all this is to say that i’m excited for s4 because the location differences make it so there’s a Reason for each plot to be separate at the beginning, and i think that’ll work better.

general ridiculousness

i dont mean like i think it’s bad that they made jokes this is just me lumping in all the dumb shit like hopper not worrying about el and not wanting to check on the kids, him and joyce bickering long after they both know they and their children are in danger, max seemingly forgetting that billy is a racist abuser, etc etc. i think many of these are just a symptom of the show 1. trying desperately to keep the groups split up a certain way even though it may not make any sense, and 2. trying to fit into a certain genre/trope mold when their actual characters are more complex than the tropes they’re imitating. this is so fucking long already i am not gonna elaborate further rn but i trust u all know what i mean.

soooo... yeah, that’s about all! i mean it’s not all there are definitely many more things i could talk about and i know i focused sorta disproportionately on the teens which is my bad :/ but i’m done for now. thank you for asking, and apologies for the delay in responding!! i’m sure some people reading (if anyone read this far) will disagree with some of what i’ve said and that’s alright like i’m not The Authority on st or anything i’m just trying to talk about like my own thoughts yknow? so yeah luv u all i hope someone enjoyed reading this!!

[professional-benaddict]

Tantrum - 1.7k Little!Peter oneshot

collab with @snowstark & @professional-benaddict

Daddies Stephen and Tony, +18 Little Peter, Littles are Known, tantrums, bad moods, errands, crying, comfort

It is a fact that Peter is not the most well behaved Little in public, but this is a whole new level. Even though Peter has learnt to accept his backpack leash, he thinks differently of it today. He has opened the buckle three times already to free himself, and Daddies are not having it.

And they have not even done half their errands today.

Peter huffs, stomping along next to the cart in the grocery store, and reaches to unbuckle himself again. Despite his Daddies’ warnings to behave, he finds himself wanting to go out of his way to do everything but that today.

The sky is cloudy and grey and Peter was not allowed to play outside, because he catches colds easily, and that is where his grumpy mood started. And the fact that his Daddies are mean is not helping.

“Do we need cleaning solutions? Is the one in the small bathroom empty? Tony?”

“Huh? I don’t know. Can’t we just get some anyway? We’ll use it up either way.”

“Yes, but the cabinet is- where’s Peter?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Looking in all directions, Stephen nor Tony can see Peter anywhere. They quickly split up to search.

Unlike his Daddies who are full of panic and worry, Peter is having the best time of his life running through the snack aisle. He stops when he sees his favourite snack, reaching for it, and manages to yank it down. Chocolate chip cookies with rainbow M&Ms. Yum!

“Gonna ask to buy.” The boy mumbles to himself, turning around, and runs right into Tony.

“Oof! There you are!” Tony grumbles, grabbing both of Peter’s shoulders so that the boy drops the pack of cookies. The man crouches down to be more level with the boy. “What were you thinking? This is the third time just today!” Tony says. There is no denying that his tone is angry now, and another shopper turns to look at the scene in curiosity.

Peter pulls out of Tony’s grasp, yanking hard enough to take the man by surprise.

“‘m a big boy!” The boy snaps back. “Don’t need the yucky, stupid backpack!” That is a word Peter is definitely not allowed to say, but he is having a bad day and he has heard his Daddies say worse things when they thought he was asleep, so there!

“Peter Benjamin Stark-Strange, you listen to me now, and listen good!” Tony says firmly, making even more shoppers turn to look. “You will put that back, and then come with me and sit in the cart. And there will be no more discussions. We’ve had enough today already.”

“No!” Peter snatches the pack of cookies, and holds it tight to his chest. He lifts his chin defiantly, but Tony does not miss the way his eyes are already beginning to mist over. “You’re mean and I want my cookies and I don’t want to sit in the stupid, stupid cart!” Peter sits down right where he is, just to prove his point.

“Peter-” Tony starts, but stops himself before he says something he will regret greatly. He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut to try and ground himself. There are people watching them now, he knows it, and it is just a question of time before a worker will ask them to leave. “Peter, get up now.” Tony says tiredly. “I’m not being mean, I’m just your Daddy and you need to listen to me and what I say. So, get up.”

“No, ‘cause you’re mean.” Peter sniffles, but despite his words, he unsteadily gets to his feet, still holding his cookies. He gives Tony a stubborn look. “Buy these for me now, Daddy.”

“No, we have cookies at home. You’re not getting those.” Tony says with a shake of his head. “Come on now, Daddy’s looking for us. Let’s not keep him waiting.” He adds with a slightly forced cheery voice, and offers his hand to Peter. But, it seems to be too late.

Peter lets out a wail of protest because ‘Daddy said no’ and plops back down.

“Nooooo! Go ‘way!” Peter buries his face his arms, wrapping them tightly around his knees so that he can resist the temptation to ask Daddy to carry him. Because even though Daddy’s being mean right now, he still gives amazing hugs.

This is it. The boss fight. And Tony has lost.

For a few seconds, Tony zones out of his Daddy role, and lets his embarrassment and shameful incompetence soak up into his whole being. He can hear people whispering, and feeling sorry for the crying Little.

Then, he snaps out of it. The man crouches down again to his Little, and picks him up. Peter fights back at first, but it is only half-hearted, and soon he is in Tony’s arms securely. Without even questioning himself, Tony also picks up the pack of cookies.

“Daddyyyy…” Peter sobs, clinging to Tony and wrapping his arms around his neck. He can also hear and see people staring and talking to themselves now, and he does not like it. He can tell that Daddy does not like it either, judging by the expression on his face.

The boy feels his Daddy moving forward, carrying him securely, and it only feels like seconds have passed by the time he is handed over to a new pair of arms.

“Hey, there. What happened?” Stephen asks Peter softly, his voice cooing and concerned. He noses at the boy’s temple, then kisses it before looking at Tony. When Peter does not answer right away, Tony does instead.

“Defeat is what happened.” The man says, and puts the pack of cookies in the cart.

“No!” Peter kicks angrily, catching Stephen’s thigh and making him wince. He makes a pitiful noise of complaint and upset when Tony takes him back into his arms and sits him securely in the cart.

Peter hates sitting in the cart. It is boring, and he does not get to touch pretty things in the store anymore, and he does not like it. To make matters worse, this is only their second store, and he knows they have to go to other places. And now that he has been relegated to cart-sitter here, he is going to be in the same position in all the other stores.

Peter hates sitting in the cart. Then, the boy spots the cookies in the cart in front of him, and he reaches out to hold it. He turns around to face his Daddy, giving him a pitiful, half-hopeful look.

“Cookies, Daddy?” He sniffles.

“Yes, you got the cookies, bud.” Tony confirms, but does not add more to it. He is trying to focus on his shopping list again, but then Peter speaks up again.

“Cookies now?”

“No, Peter. We haven’t paid for them yet. We have to wait- okay.”

It is too late now, again. Peter has ripped open the packaging, and he is shoving a cookie into his mouth with a fierce look. Stephen also butts in with his disapproval.

“Peter, bud, that’s not allowed. We can’t open the things we haven’t paid for yet.”

“But-“ Peter blinks, looking genuinely confused, and sets down the package to pout instead. He munches on the cookie he took, but it does not taste as good as it usually does. His Daddies are not being nice at all. First Tony, and now Stephen, too! Sulking, Peter rests his head on the side of the cart, waiting for shopping to finish. He has a feeling that his Daddies are not happy with him, and he does not like when they are grumpy.

Even if Peter is still in a mood, Stephen and Tony would much rather have him sulking in the cart than running around angrily. The rest of the shopping trip goes by quietly, and awkwardly. Stephen and Tony try to include Peter where they can, but the boy does not want to talk. On their last stop, the Daddies are feeling quite guilty.

“Peter, baby. Are you still mad at Daddies?” Stephen tries gently while they walk across the parking lot to their car.

Peter refuses to reply, just stomping along next to his Daddies, glaring at the ground. Before they can enter their last store, Peter catches sight of... a Moomin drink.Normally, Peter would beg his Daddies to take him there, except he remembers that he still has to be mad, and it feels ick to ‘give in’ and ask them to get a drink. Still, he cannot help but stare at the purple and pink drink wistfully.

After loading the last bags into the trunk of the car, Tony brushes his hand off and sighs.

“So, home next?” Tony asks Stephen, but the man is watching Peter. “Babe?”

“I think he wants something from there.” Stephen whispers to his partner, and points to the coffee shop just across the street.

It looks just like any coffee shop, but by the door, there is a large chalk board with a friendly looking commercial of their latest drink. It is a Moomin bubble tea with raspberry, and Peter is watching it intently.

The Daddies exchange a look. Then, Stephen heads to Peter.

“Baby?” Stephen asks, walking up to Peter and crouching down next to him. That way they are more at level with one another. “Do you want that drink?”

Peter worries at his bottom lip with his teeth. He is still supposed to be mad at his Daddies, and asking them for a drink ruins all of his efforts!

But... the pink Moomin drink.

Eventually, he settles for a nod.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Peter nods again, so Stephen offers his hand to Peter.

“Lets go then, sweets.”

A few minutes later, Stephen and Peter join Tony who is waiting in the car. The boy looks as pleased as ever, sipping on a bright purple drink with a decorated straw. The drink looks like a sugar bomb, and that is exactly why Peter looks so pleased. When Stephen hops into the passenger seat, he shoots Tony a look.

“Maybe we should get Steve and Bucky to babysit him next time.”

“Definitely.” Tony chuckles, and starts the car.

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.  

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could  meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies –  and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.  

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

[bratkook]

corrupt. jjk (m)

You’d be crying out in pain begging me to play my games. I could corrupt you, it would be ugly.

pairing: vampire!jk x human!reader genre: smut, pwp warnings: blood play, unprotected sex, dirty talk, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, spanking, oral (f. receiving), partially clothed sex word count: 5k author’s note: literally everything i write is based on a song so listen to Corrupt by Depeche Mode. This also came to mind because my boss and i are obsessed with the idea of going to a sex club in berlin so i hope you enjoy lol. leave feedback or shoot me a message tysm ily bye. this also isnt edited yet im sorry

Standing in the middle of a dimly lit club in the heart of Berlin, the sound of a german band filling up the space all around you, is not how you thought your night would go.

Utterly alone, shimmying through the crowd of people all scantily clad in forms of leather or lace, some wearing nothing at all. No one seemed to mind you, no one gave you a second glance. The leather body harness you had on stuck to your body like second skin, the straps of it stretched across your breasts and covered your nipples. The only thing on your bottom half was a garter belt, a tiny pair of black underwear and fishnet stockings, finished off with some black heels.

You had begged your friend to come with you, being in the middle of your trip across Europe you wanted to visit the infamous sex club while in Berlin but she had been so against it. Not only was this club notorious for having orgies in the middle of the venue, which she thought was unspeakable, it was also a common hot spot for vampires as well, another taboo for her.

When she told you no you knew it was final so you didn’t mention it again. Instead you got dressed up in the bathroom of your airbnb, draped on a peacoat and headed out without a word. Luckily the club had coat check or else you’d feel entirely over dressed.

This club, unlike other vampire friendly ones you’ve visited, let everyone mingle together. You were accustomed to having dedicated rooms for humans, another for vampires, and a common ground for those who didn’t mind being together. But here it was a giant melting pot of both.

In the short ten minutes you’ve been here you had lost count of how many scarlet eyes you’d seen staring down at you, how many touches of cold skin you’d felt as you slipped by people, you felt very outnumbered and a little vulnerable but it sent a spark of excitement down your spine.

When you reach the bar, your arms press against the slightly tacky surface, a blonde with gleaming golden eyes greets you with a smile, “What’ll you have sweet heart?”

You strain your ears to hear her but try your best to tell her you’d just like a shot of tequila, she has no problem hearing your request, spinning around to grab the tequila from behind her.

Just as you start to ease up to being where you are, the feeling of someone slipping in beside you has you tensing up again. You keep your gaze on the bartender, watching her pour out your shot before sliding it over.

When you reach into the hem of your tights to pull out some cash she waves you off, “Its your first time here, consider it a welcoming gift.” She winks at you and moves on to the next thirsty guest before you can thank her.

You can sense the eyes boring into you from your right, your fingers gripping the edge of the shot glass as you lift it up to your lips. The curious observer just watches with a smirk as you throw back the shot, shutting your eyes as the warm liquid runs down your throat.

When you set the glass down and lick your lips over they finally speak, “First timer huh?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at his voice, the low gravel of it swimming through your ears and getting your full attention. Its melodic, something about it has you turning to him like he had just said something ground breaking, and when you see who the voice belongs to you let out a small shudder.

The dark red of his eyes seems to glow in between the random flashes of light, his eyebrow arched up in curiosity as you drink him in. The hair on his head, parted to the side and showing the sharp eyebrows that frame his eyes, is an inky shade, the tips of the strands landing on his forehead.

He lets you take your time, watching you make your way down his face, reaching his soft lips, parted in a half smile that showcased the sharp fangs where your incisors are. The action should be threatening but all you can think of is having them sink into your skin.

The way he’s dressed is more modest than others, a sheer black mesh shirt hugging his chest, showing off the indents of muscles from how tight the material was. A harness similar to your own sits snuggly against his waist, the leather material matching that of his pants.

You snap out of it when you realize you’ve been staring at his crotch for more than seemed appropriate. Humor is written all over his face when you meet his gaze once more, remembering that the beautiful stranger had in fact asked you a question.

“Yeah, that obvious?”

He just chuckles, leaning against the bar top as well, “You just look a little intimidated is all. What is it, the vampires or the fucking in public?”

You push the shot glass further away from you, “Neither, I’ve had my fair share of vampires and if fucking in public scared me I wouldn’t be here.” Your words have piqued his interest, “Just first time jitters.”

He nods in understanding, “Fair, lets do some ice breakers then, I’ll start.” He clears his throat and inches closer to you, his shoulder nudging against yours, “My name is Jungkook, I’m technically 24, I enjoy making short films and I really want to fuck you.”

The small gasp you let out is clearly picked up by his ears, the smirk returning on his face at your reaction, “Oh wow,” you let out a giggle and he’s enamored by it, “well, my names Y/N, I’m 25, I enjoy baking and I really want to fuck you too.”

Jungkook hums, his tongue running along his teeth, “That can be arranged you know.”

You take a glance behind him, taking in the entirety of the club in the flashes of light. Almost every surface had a couple, at least, in the act of fucking each other in one form or another. In the middle of it all were the people who just came for the atmosphere, dancing along to the music playing as if ten feet away someone wasn’t getting fucked in the ass.

“Where?” You ask shyly, this was after all your first time at a club like this. The rules of dibs regarding location was foreign to you, not knowing what was off limits or not but Jungkook seemed to be very familiar with the club.

“Lets ease you into it yeah?” He murmurs out, his cold hand gently grasping yours and tugging you behind him as he slides through people without a care. The crowd seemed to split for him, humans and vampires alike staring him down but he paid them no mind as he crossed the floor.

The further you walked the more the crowd dispersed until you reached a hallway, the maroon walls were lined up with fetish photos, portraits of girls wrapped up in shibari, men wearing gimp masks along with shadow boxes holding various sex toys. In between each one were open doors, the rooms having a bed in the middle of them with lovers on top, the sounds of pleasure spilling out of the rooms and into the hallway.

Jungkook continued to lead you down the hallway, reaching a room he knows will be unoccupied. It was his room, no one ever used it but him, it was almost like an unspoken rule that it belonged to him so when you rounded the corner and stepped into it, the fact that i was completely untouched didn’t surprise him.

The bed was right in the middle, dimly illuminated by two sconces on the wall behind it. The black silk sheets look inviting, the large gold bed frame drawing you forward until your palms rested on the mattress, your fingers rubbing the soft material.

“I didn’t know places like this had beds.”

Jungkook steps behind you, his hands grasping your hips gently and pulling you back into him, “Mm, theres also a pool in the basement but I can show you that later.” He dips his head down, nuzzling his nose into the juncture of your neck and inhaling when the scent of you invades his senses.

He could hear the pounding of your heart, the blood pulsing through your veins in excitement. Jungkook knew you weren’t scared, you had waves of eagerness rolling off of you. The rythm of your heart wasn’t one of fear and as much as he used to love playing with his meals, knowing he didn’t have to sweet talk you into calming down made this more enjoyable.

“Yeah, later–laters good.” Your eyes flutter shut when his lips touch your skin, gently trailing up your neck and reaching your jaw. One of the hands that was on your hips came up to cup your cheeks, yanking your head around to crash his lips against yours.

The lingering remains of the tequila you had thrown back makes its way into his mouth when his tongue meets yours as he licks his way inside. Slowly you fully turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck and forcing him closer to you as your tongues tangled together messily.

Jungkook makes quick work at unclasping the harness you had on, his fingers coming together on your back and undoing the metal hooks until the fabric sagged off of your body. His lips never leave yours as you drop your arms, letting the leather material hit the floor.

When his hands come up to grasp your tits you pause kissing him, the icyness of his palm making your nipples pebble and he just smirks, almost as if he knows that you’re thinking of how his cold hands would feel inside your cunt.

“Such a pretty little human.” He mumbles out when he pulls back and stares at your exposed chest, his fingers twisting your nipple.

“Please,” you groan out, leaning forward to reattach your lips but he inches back to tease you, a playful smile on his face. “you said you wanted to fuck me.”

He relases your nipple, his hands now coming to undo his own harness, the garment joining yours on the floor but with it comes the mesh shirt. Inch by inch his smooth skin comes into view, the muscles on his stomach rippling as he peels it off and tosses it without a care.

“I do want to fuck you, so badly.” His head tilts slightly at you, watching you standing by the bed with your arms by your side and a pout on your face. “I like taking my time though baby, can you be patient for me.”

He hears the small intake of breath you make, nodding your head immediately. Patient? Yeah you could be patient for him, you could be anything for him. Its like his voice had you in a trance, any request he had could be fulfilled without a problem.

Jungkook reaches for you once more, his lips melting against yours while his hands guide your hips backwards, helping you onto the bed and pushing you back with ease. He slowly pushes you back until you’re fullt resting on the mattress, your hair splayed out around you with him hovering above you, his knees on either side of your thighs.

Your lips smack together for a moment, Jungkook gently nipping your bottom lip enough to draw a small bead of blood. When his tongue laps it up he moans into your mouth, the coppery taste mixed in with a hint of sweetness has his cock twitching. A small taste of whats to come, it takes him all the restraint he has to stop himself from devouring you here and now.

“Tastes,” kiss “so,” kiss “sweet.” He groans out in between kisses, pressing against you harder before trailing his lips down your body. You lay there with your chest heaving, your mind spinning when you feel the wetness of his lips kissing down your chest.

He envelopes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking around it with a moan, his other hand coming up to knead the flesh of your neglected breast and you gasp at the feeling, your back arching into his touch.

Your brain forcing your limbs to come into action now, your hand slipping into his hair and pushing him closer to you. The sensation of your fingers yanking his strands urges him on, sucking on your nipple while looking up at you, your eyes blown out in the darkness of the room, the bright red of his making him look predatory.

He pulls back with a wet smack, looking down at your saliva coated flesh and humming to himself while his hand continues to twist your other nipple. “So sensitive.” He comments when you whine at a particular hard tug he gives you, your head falling back with a sigh.

“Jungkook please.”

He relents, releasing your nipple and continuing his quest down your body, you’re expecting him to tug down your tights, maybe undo the garter belt before taking it all off but instead his fingers hook into the holes in the tighs around your crotch and yank hard. The sound of the fabric ripping has you lifting your head back up, catching him in the act of tearing your tights apart until your black panties were fully exposed to him.

Jungkook had slid off the bed, kneeling in front of you, his arms hooking under your thighs to drag you forward a bit, a smile spreading across his face when you let out a small shriek of surprise. The heels of your shoes rest on his back, your thighs sitting snuggly on his shoulders.

You can feel his breath against your skin, his lips hovering over the flesh of your inner thighs, his fingers digging into you as he licks his lips over. The anticipation is killing you, forcing yourself to drop your head back down because watching him stare at you like that was filling your stomach with nerves.

The soft flick of his tongue on your inner thigh has you tensing up, your hands reaching down to grasp his own, your warm fingers curling around his while they wrapped around your legs. Jungkook trails soft kisses on your skin, taking his time sucking and biting around your panties, his tongue gently flicking over your clit, a teasing motion that you barely feel through the material of your underwear.

He chuckles when your hands clutch his with annoyance, you had told him you could be patient but you were really doubting yourself now. Maybe fucking him out in the open of the club would’ve given you satisfaction a lot quicker.

Just as you’re about to voice your frustration, Jungkook pulls a hand away from your thigh, hooking his finger on the edge of your panties and yanking them to the side. Your glistening core shines back on him, his mouth salivating at getting a taste of you, wondering if your cunt was as sweet as your blood.

“Fuck.” You gasp when he licks a broad stripe up your slit, his tongue gathering your wetness in a practice move, a satisfied moan leaving his mouth at the taste. Everything he had said about taking his time was out the window now, diving into you shamelessly.

He growls when your hand comes back to tangle into his hair, the slight burn of his scalp causing him to eat you with more determination. His lips wrap around your clit, slurping and sucking gently enough to have you whimpering, your back arching up into him at the feeling.

Jungkook smirks when he releases your clit, nosing against it while his fingers circle your entrance, slipping in without resistance. The dirty thought that had crossed your mind before had been proven correct, Jungkook’s long icy fingers felt amazing inside your heat, spreading you open as if they were meant to be there. When he adds a second one, scissoring inside of you to stretch you out, a moan dies in your throat when you choke out, his lips come back to your center in a frenzy.

You can feel every ridge of his finger inside of you, grazing the bundle of nerves each time they thrust out, coupled with the way he’s sucking on your clit its not a shock that you’re quivering on the bed. 

“So fucking wet.” He awes for a second, the tug on his scalp letting him know you needed him to go back to what he was doing. A gush of wetness escapes you, dripping down his palm and onto the floor and he hums, he can hear the pounding in your veins increase in speed, the fluttering of your heart sounding like music to his ears.

“C-close,” you keen out, your heels digging into him and bringing him closer, “fuck, bite me. Please bite me.”

Thats all Jungkook needed to hear, his fingers slip out of you to replace his mouth, quickly circling your clit to have you hurdling over the edge. You can feel the pressure building in your abdomen, the controlled flicks of his fingers have you whining out.

Just as you’re about to teeter over Jungkook dips down and kisses your inner thigh once more, opening his mouth to clamp over your skin. In a flash his fangs pierce your flesh, a brief feeling of searing pain shoots up your body before being replaced by intense pleasure when he fully latches on, lips suckling on your skin.

The rich liquid pours into his mouth, the same coppery sweet taste he had sampled earlier is increased with the pleasure you feel. Jungkook’s eyes roll back at the flavor, his fingers not letting up on your clit even with the choked gasp of his name as you reach your orgasm. 

Your body trembles underneath him, your hands grip on his hair loosening up as he quenches his thirst. Everything feels tingly, each nerve ending on your body being lit up from the intense orgasm you just experienced. When he pulls away from your thigh, traces of blood spilling around his mouth he moans, nuzzling his way back to your center, gently licking the remnants of your orgasm off of you, enjoying how you whimper on the bed.

“So good.” He rasps out, his eyes flicking up to look at you and you gasp at how much brighter they are, a ruby red sparkling in the dark of the room, his eyebrow cocked up as he trails his way back up your body, letting your legs fall from his shoulders and back onto the bed.

His leather clad legs press against you, the feeling of his hardened bulge against your hip has you shuddering. “I’m not done with you yet, I’m going to ruin you baby.” He kisses up your chest, his eyes never leaving yours. The fucked out look on your face makes him rut against you, “You sure you want this?”

Your arms wrap around his torso, nails digging into his back as you rut up into him. His head drops down onto your neck when you grind against him, your wetness smearing along the leather. “I need it, ruin me Jungkook.”

The hiss he lets out has your toes curling, moreso when his mouth kisses along your neck, a teasing nip of his teeth on your skin, “Oh I will.”

Jungkook reaches down with one hand to unbotton his jeans, tugging them down enough for his cock to slip free. You don’t get a chance to look it over, the size of it being a total suprise to you since his lips were no on yours again, your eyes slipping shut as they worked together, teeth knocking into each other in a hurry.

He wraps a hand around himself, sighing into your mouth as he gives himself a pump. “Jungkook.” You groan into his mouth, wiggling your hips around as he positions himself between your thighs. He nudges your thighs further apart, your heels resting on the edge of the bed while his knees sink into the mattress.

“I know baby.” He mumbles against your lips, pressing another kiss to them. Thats when you feel the tip of his cock pressing against you, a slow rut of his hips following as he coats his length in your arousal.

Your nails dig into his back once more, the silk sheets gliding against your skin when you arch your back to get some sort of friction from him.

Jungkooks eyes are glued to where you meet, watching in admiration when he tugs your underwear to the side and eases himself into you, his cock sinking into your heat slowly. The feeling of him stretching you open has you moaning out loud, your head thrown back and exposing your neck to him.

“Fuck baby, you’re taking me so well.”

The stretch feels almost impossible for a second, you hadn’t seen his length but the feeling of it alone made it obvious that he was the biggest you’d ever had. When he bottoms out, his hips resting flush against your ass you whimper out.

“Feel so full.” You slur, humming softly when he kisses your cheek tenderly.

Jungkook just chuckles, “Gonna fuck you stupid.” Thats the only warning he gives you before inching back, rolling into you over and over until you’re adjusted to his size.

You knew after today you’d be ruined, you’d slept with your fair share of vampires but the way Jungkook’s cock split you open, pistoning into you in the most delicious way, you were done for.

The feeling of your nails digging in his back had him hissing, his arms caging you in underneath him. His eyes were focused on the way your breasts jiggled at every thrust, your body jostling upwards from the strength of them. Your face was screwed up in pleasure, your mouth dropped open as moans spilled out through your lips.

Jungkook was fucking you well and truly stupid, you looked lost in your pleasure, your walls fluttering around his length when he hit your sweet spot.

“Fuck,” you mewl, “so big. So–“ a gasp cuts you off when he speeds up his thrusts, the skin of his thighs smacking against yours with new found energy.

“Where’d those first time jitters go?” He wonders, one hand coming up to softly trail down your face, inching down until theyre placed around your neck, his fingers feeling the ferocious pulsing from your jugular.

“Such a fearless little human.” He grunts out with a groan, “Letting me do what I want with you, do you have any idea what I could do to you?”

A whimper leaves your mouth, your hips coming up to rut in time against his. You knew what he could do to you, if he really wanted to he could rip out your throat and drink you dry. Maybe it was the masochist inside of you, the idea of not knowing what could actually happen, of not being in control of the situation, that kept you going.

“I don’t care.”

That has a curious smile spreading across his face, “No? All you care about is my cock huh?”

You’re nodding immediately, yes his cock is all you care about. The way its stretching you open, the length of it hitting places inside of you without even trying. He fucked you like it was second nature to him, his thrusts being well timed, as if he knew the right way to get you falling apart underneath him.

“Can I–“ you press your palms against his chest lightly, the smal act of resistence causing him to still completely. He watches on curiously when you shimmy out from under him, your knees knocking into his as you turn over onto the bed on your hands and knees.

You’re facing the door now, seeing the flashes of light and the occasional person walking by the door and you briefly remember where you are. Jungkook watches you wiggle your hips at him, your fishnets stretched tightly over your ass.

“So fucking sexy.” He steps off of the bed, taking the time now to fully slip out of his pants, kicking them off and onto the floor before kneeling back onto the bed. His hands grasp your ass, kneading the flesh of them as he settles behind you, his palm coming up to land with a loud smack onto your skin. The sound mixing in with the thrumming bass of the club music and the moan you let out.

“C’mon, fuck me stupid.” You tease, dropping onto your elbows and spreading your thighs apart as you arch your back.

“Mm, careful what you ask for baby.”

His large palm splays across your back, pushing you down further while his other guides his cock back into you. The first thrust is a lot smoother than the last, the glide of your wetness helping him ease in to the hilt. This position has him reaching in deeper inside of you, your hands fisting the cool sheets as you moan out his name.

Its messy, the way his dick squelches every time it re-enters your, wetness coating his cock and dripping down onto the sheets. His palms grasp your hips, fingers digging into your flesh roughly. He knew he could crush you if he wanted to and the fact that you still laid here, drunk off his cock instead of running away, he knew he was just as ruined as you were.

“Jung-jungkook.” You gasp out, rutting back onto him with a small laugh and it catches his attention when he notices one of your hands come up to point at the door, “we have a visitor.”

He hums when his eyes lock onto the observer, another vampire he was familiar with, the dark red hair of Jung Hoseok flashes in the light. He’s leaning against the door frame, a drink in his hand as he watches on nonchalantly.

“Lets give them a show then yeah?”

He grinds against you with more purpose, one hand coming around to your front to meet your clit, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers until you’re trembling. Your pussy clamps around him, your mouth dropping open in a lewd moan, burying your face into the sheets while you let yourself get lost in the feeling of it all.

Knowing Jungkook was having his way with you while someone watched lit a fire inside of you, the way you were creaming his cock being evidence enough that you were clearly enjoying yourself.

“Harder, fuck me harder.”

Jungkook fulfills your request, starting to thrust into your heat harshly with no qualms about having a spectator. “You’re soaked baby, you gonna make a mess of these sheets?”

All of your senses are full of him, just him and his cock and the way he pounds into you, his fingers flicking against your clit with expertise. His grasp on your hips is the only thing keeping you from toppling over, your upper body laying limp on the bed as you let his ravish you.

When your eyes look up, meeting the gaze of the stranger by the door you smirk, sending them a wink and earning a chuckle from them.

Jungkook can feel you tightening up around him, his own release creeping up inside of him. He needs to taste you again, “Let me have another bite baby.”

He bends over your body until his nose pushes against your hair draped over your neck, a deep inhale sending shivers down your spine. Your hand comes up to move your hair out of the way, mewling when he nudges against your skin, “Oh god, yes.”

His lips latch onto you seconds later, the now familiar feeling of his fangs sinking into your skin making your whole body tense up this time. Your limbs lock up as he moans against your flesh, the warm blood dribbling into his mouth. Blood always tasted different coming straight from the jugular, the taste of it making his eyes roll back as he quickly ruts into you.

The euphoric feeling of him drinking from you pushes you over the edge once more, the pleasure sparking from the open wound until it reaches all of your limbs. Your walls clamp around him impossibly tight as you cum, a shout of his name leaving you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His lips never leave your neck, suckling the blood from you as your body trembles underneath his. A weak whimper leaving your lips sends him over, his balls tensing up until he’s spilling into you, thrusting his hips against yours as deep as he could. The warmth of his cum fills you up, a soft sigh sounding out when he finally detaches from your neck, the smear of blood around your neck being licked up by him as he shallowly thrusts a few more times.

“Shit.”

Your eyes look up once more to find that the other vampire was now gone, leaving you and Jungkook alone once more, his cock still buried inside of you, your neck throbbing slightly after the abuse.

When he pulls out of you your hips full drop onto the mattress, the cool sheets feeling like heaven against your warm body. Jungkook chuckles at your worn out form, gently grasping you to flip you over to face the ceiling, not giving you a moment to recover before slotting his lips against your own.

You taste your own blood on your tongue, the coppery tang being new to you but you don’t mind it, not with the way he kisses you like you were more than just a messy fuck. He pulls back after a second and you grin at him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, your thumb rubbing the drying blood from his chin.

“What did I taste like?”

He presses another kiss against you, “Like fucking heaven, I could die eating your pussy.”

The wink he sends you makes you blush, swatting his chest lightly with a laugh, “I meant my blood you perv.”

“Oh I’m the perv now?” He teases, catching your hand before you can smack him again, “I think you ruined me too baby, never tasted blood this sweet.”

You bite your lip at his words, staring up at him with wide eyes in an almost innocent way as if you hadn’t just participated in this scandalous act. He wanted nothing more than to proposition you into being his blood bag, a somewhat intimate request but he knew it was useless. Considering you had never been to this club before he knew you weren’t from around here, you’d be long gone in a few days, a distant memory that would simmer away over time and for some reason it pained him to think that so he chose to suppress it.

“Let me walk you home, you never know what monsters could be lurking.”

That same giggle that enamored him earlier is back now, “If I could handle you I could handle anyone.”

His eyebrows arch up at your teasing tone, a smirk curling his lip as he stares you down, “Is that so?” His eyes have that same predatory look in them, your skin breaking out into goosebumps at the way he stares at you, looking like he’s ready to dive in once more.

He wasn’t finished with you yet.

[ynscrazylife]

Is it cool to request a agnes x Fem! Reader where vision and Wanda set them up on a date? Since literally everyone knows Agnes and reader give each other heart eyes and they secretly love one another more then 'just friend's' ? And they end up setting each other on a date and they both just get really shy when they realize much to Agnes surprise when reader confesses to her? And they like share a moment and kiss? And Wanda and vision are watching them cheering them all on?

I Think Cupid Is Spying On Us

WANDAVISON SPOILERS!

Summary: Wanda and Vision play matchmaker for Agnes and Y/N. Apparently, everyone except themselves can see that they’ve fallen head over heels for each other.

Wanda was very close to yelling her own head off. 

She and Vision had invited Agnes and Y/N over for brunch while Tommy and Billy were upstairs, and she found this brunch to be more stressful than fun. 

It was clear as day that Agnes and Y/N were falling for each other. For the entire mealtime, Y/N hadn’t taken her eyes off of Agnes and was giving her heart eyes, and Agnes didn’t stop complimenting or “subtly” flirting with her. 

 ‘jUST KISS ALREADY!’ Wanda screamed at them in her mind. When she heard Agnes start to repeat the same pick-up line (which was failing because Y/N was obvious), that was when Wanda finally felt she had to step in.

“Vis, honey, can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment?” She asked, suddenly standing up from her seat. Agnes and Y/N barely noticed. 

Apparently, “stepping-in” meant dragging your robotic husband into the kitchen. 

Vision paused pretending to eat and glanced at the two lovebirds before nodding at his wife. 

“Yes, dear?” He said as he followed Wanda into the kitchen, switching to his normal face rather than his fake one. 

Wanda turned around quite suddenly just as the door shut. “We need to do something,” she declared matter-of-factly, crossing her arms.

Vision smirked, seeing how determined she was. “About what?” He asked.

Wanda blinked and then looked at him like he had just grown three heads. “About them, Vis!” She hissed, gesturing to the dining room. “They’re obviously in love with each other and they don’t know it! I can’t take this anymore.”

Vison chuckled. “Ah, yes. I noticed that, too, but what could we even do, Wanda?” He asked. 

Wanda hummed, thinking for a moment. Gasping, she looked up at him as if a lightbulb went off above her heads. “I have an idea!” She said with a big grin. “Let’s set them up on a date!” 

She walked past him, clasping her hands together as she thought. Vision hardly opened his mouth to respond when she continued, “I know the perfect place! I’ll set up a reservation and it’ll be perfect!” 

Vision chuckled at his wife’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure you’ll make it great, darling. Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked. 

Wanda twirled back around. “Could you pull Agnes aside and ask her if she wants to meet for dinner on Thursday at the restaurant down the street? I’ll ask the same of Y/N!” She said, and then marched back into the dining room. 

“Y/N, may I speak to you for a moment?” Wanda asked in a low voice as she approached her. Y/N had been listening intently to a story about Agnes’ rabbit. 

“Oh, sure,” Y/N said, putting on a small smile as she stood up and joined her friend in the living room. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Vision approaching Agnes. “What’s up?”

“Would you like join me for dinner on Thursday at the restaurant down the street?” Wanda offered, giving her a big smile. 

Y/N made a small “oh” expression of surprise and nodded immediately. “I’d love to!” She agreed gladly, however she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder at Agnes. “Will Agnes be coming?” 

Wanda smirked before hiding it quickly as Y/N looked back to her. “Yes, yes, but it’ll be a . . . friendly surprise! So just wear something nice,” she said. 

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Y/N sure did wear something nice. Walking into the restaurant and heading towards the host, she wore her most beautiful and favorite article of clothing with her hair done up gorgeously. “Hello. I have a reservation made by Wanda Maximoff?” She said. 

The host nodded. “Of course! Right this way, miss,” he said, and grabbed two menus - which confused Y/N, but she didn’t say anything - and led her to a table. 

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw it. It was a table fit for two people and two people only, with tall candles giving off a romantic vibe. Y/N turned to the host, about to inform him that this must be the wrong table, when he filled her in, seeing the look on her face. 

“Ms. Maximoff called and requested a date set up for you and someone else,” the host explained. 

Y/N raised her eyebrows, confused. “Who is-?” her question was cut off by a voice behind them.

“Y/N?” 

Y/N turned around and her jaw nearly dropped. Agnes was standing there in the most magnificent dress, the tallest high-heels, with her hair slicked back in a ponytail. She looked stunning. 

After what felt like forever, the host said, “I’ll leave you to it,”, put the menus on the table, and left. Y/N blinked, deciding to stop gaping like a fish out of water. 

“I had no idea - Wanda set us up on a date,” Y/N explained. The realization made her blush. Had she been that obvious?

Agnes blinked in surprise. “Oh,” she murmured, before the full force of everything hit her like a smack to the face. “Oh! Y/N, I- well, this must be terribly awkward and if you don’t share those feelings I-”

Y/N giggled, gaining some confidence back, which silenced Agnes. “Agnes . . . I do share those feelings. I’ve fancied you for quite a while,” she admitted. 

Agnes stared at her before coming to her senses. “Oh my god, is this a dream? This must be a dream!” She cried, a smile beginning to shape her lips. 

Y/N giggled more and walked up to her, forgetting that they were standing in the middle of a restaurant. Excitement was coursing through her veins which prompted her to do something that shocked herself and Agnes. 

She kissed her.

In public, surrounded by people, she kissed the woman she was slowly falling in love with and after a couple of seconds - the woman kissed back. 

They only sprang apart when they heard a small cheer from behind and Y/N turned around just in time to see two figures, one with red hair and the other with blonde, duck back behind their menus.

Y/N and Agnes both laughed. Their friends weren’t sneaky in the slightest. Y/N turned back around and took Agnes’ hand. “Come, let’s sit down and order, ‘cause I think Cupid is watching us,” she said with a smirk.

[internalsealpanic]

The Thorn pt.1

summary: “Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

 or my 6 thousand word essay on why I want more Sugar daddy!Slade fics.

a/n: This is just straight up smut Never combine stress thirst plus an amazing enabler. Thanks to @littleredwing89 for basically co-writing. Also I need more case fics with undercover gentlemen’s clubs stuff.  I will edit this for grammar later. 

warnings: mentions of murder and sexual assault (for the case), mirror sex, collars, oral (male receiving), choking, kind of public sex?, size kink (this is to be expected at this point), strength kink,  reader is kind of a dumbass, and praise kink. 

villain’s masterlist or masterlist

Saying this wasn’t your scene would be like saying the sun is bright. Obvious but wholly inadequate in describing just how out of your depth you are. You cross your arms over your chest in a futile attempt to shield them from prying eyes. The soft fabric of your lingerie feeling too little in contrast to the men clad in expensive suits leering at you as they passed your skittish form.

 You try to swallow down the nervousness. You try to tell yourself this is fine, that it’s just for the case. But the silk collar tied tightly around your neck and your own fraying nerves made it extremely difficult to ignore just how vulnerable you felt. 

 God, what made your awkward ass think you could pull this off?

 You lift your head, eyeing the other men and women around you. You all wore matching silk ribbons tied into bows behind your neck, a circular, silver tag hanging off of it. You wrinkle your nose at how young some of them look. Some barely look old enough to be anywhere near a place like this. 

 Part of you feels thankful that you shut Nicky’s idea down to go with a leather lingerie set but the stark contrast of your lacy lingerie set made you stand out too much in the sea of leather. It made you stand out just enough to color both your cheeks and ears from the amount of attention you were getting. You close your eyes trying to ignore the heat permeating from your skin. You try to focus on the details of the case. 

 For the last 8 months, there’s been an increase in the number of young men and women going missing and turning up dead. The assumption had been that it was due to the increase in gang activity but something felt off about the deaths. 

 Nothing was consistent. The victim type, the area, and even the M.O. of sexual assault were varied. Only the mode of death was even close to being consistent but even that presented its own problems. The injuries were too clean, too efficient for the killer to have drawn any pleasure from it especially when contrasted with the victims’ other injuries.  Normally people who make those injuries have a certain type and a certain way of doing things. And the clean efficiency of the disposal method had easily ruled out any of the local gangs. 

 When you brought all of this up to your boss, he waved you off saying something about looking into it. Somehow not getting fired after screaming at your boss (probably because you’re one of the few crime scene techs willing to stay in this shithole), you decide to conduct your own investigation. The more clues you uncovered (out of sheer spite) the more they seemed to point to an organized crime group, likely involved in trafficking.

 Finally, after a month and a half of searching, you found a solid lead. Augustus Klineberg. Despite the name, he was new money. At least, here in Merit.  

 “I’m his type!”

 “And so are a dozen bodies laying around in the lab, what’s your point?”

 “Sita, got me a part-time job at the Thorn.”

 It hadn’t been easy. The thorn was an exclusive gentlemen’s club that specialized in certain kinks. It had taken Sita a week to even get you an interview but after that they eagerly accepted you with worrying enthusiasm. Either way, this conversation was simply a formality. 

 Bernard stares at you and you watch as his entire being crumples into the dining room table. He turns to his husband pleadingly. “Nicky, Please, my love, talk some sense into her.”

 You turn to Nicky who is innocently sipping from his coffee mug filled with whatever ungodly creation came to Bernard in the dead of night. He tilts his head back seemingly collecting the right words. “Y/n has a point.”

 “No! Not you too!”

 “Yes!”

 “Bern, think about it. Klineberg would never suspect her and unlike most of Klineberg’s victims, Y/n is a ninja gremlin.”

 Bernard gives him a withering look while you snort. Nicky shrugs and continues to drink his, what you assumed was, liquid crack. 

 “Y/n, are you sure about this? The Thorn- Well, it isn’t exactly like your other undercover jobs.” You give both of them a cocky smile, biting into your mini waffle. “It can’t be that hard. All I have to do is sit there and look pretty.” At that little remark, Nicky burst out into a fit of laughter loud enough to wake the neighbors. 

You run your hand through your hair still, feeling flustered. You need air. 

 “Hey Nina, I’m gonna need like maybe 5 minutes.”

 “Sure, just don’t blame me for whatever excuse I give the bossman,” Nina says, shrugging at you. She flips her red curls over her shoulder, winking at a patron and tilting her hips to show off her curves. Both you and the patron are slack-jawed and entranced. Maybe you should try that sometime? Some time being after you stop gawking at Nina’s ass and probably also after you take in some air. 

 You shuffle away awkwardly keeping your eyes to the ground. You shrink into yourself easily as you cut through the crowd. This case was going to be the death of you and Bernard’s eulogy would just be a very short but satisfying ‘I told you so’. 

 Mercifully, you find a quieter area. You would have preferred to go outside but standing alone in a dark alley in skimpy underwear might be a bad idea. You flatten yourself against a wall and close your eyes. Maybe you could tell them you aren’t feeling well which isn’t entirely untrue. You felt sick being this vulnerable. You should probably leave before you do something stupid. 

 A hand on your wrist drags you back to reality. It takes absolutely everything in you not to break his wrist. You open your eyes to see Klineberg hoovering in your personal space. 

 “Are you ok?” He asks, the concern in his voice sounding synthetic. You try to wriggle out of his hold not bothering to hide your discomfort. You note how his smile seems to get bigger as you struggled more. Clearly, he was enjoying your discomfort. 

   “Thanks for finding her for me. The manager said she’d be in this general area but it’s quite hard to see with just one eye.” Slade says casually, settling a large hand on the man’s shoulder. Your heart stops. Of all the people you had to run into-

  Klineberg eyes him skeptically. You have to respect him for that. You’ve faced Slade several times before, only making it out due to luck or hours of planning. If you were Klineberg, you’d be pissing yourself. Despite the almost friendly expression Slade had on him, you can tell this wasn’t up for negotiation. And apparently, so can Klineberg seeing how he dropped your hand. 

 Slade waves a neatly dressed man over. The man eyes you appraisingly and your heart takes an express elevator to your throat. Were you that obviously out of place? 

 “We’ll be taking a room.”

 “Of course, sir,” The man answers politely, finally, taking his eyes off of you and handing Slade a key. 

 Wait. We?

 Slade starts walking without a word, the crowd parting for him easily.  You briefly look back at Klineberg who is still looking at you like he’s going to tear you apart with his bare hands before following Slade.  

 You walk behind him wordlessly. Your mind is still reeling from the fact that Slade ‘Deathstroke: The Terminator’ Wilson just saved you from your target and your own terrible acting and is mortified by the fact that he has now seen you in skimpy lingerie. The steps you take are measured, making sure to stick close to him but not too close.  You keep your eyes to the ground as you walk behind him, hoping it’s enough to hide the expressions cycling through your face. 

 You two enter a room. It was unexpectedly spacious even under the dim neon lights. You look around finding the room furnished with expensive decorations looking nothing like the seedy gentlemen’s clubs you’ve busted before save for the pole in the middle of the room. It looked more akin to an expensive hotel bar, again, save for the pole. The darkness of the room and the quiet flow of the music set quite the intimate atmosphere which just made you that more skittish. 

 Slade makes his way across the room, eyes searching the corners and spaces of the room. He nods seemingly satisfied with the setup and likely not spotting any recording devices. Your stiff shoulders loosen a bit, if nothing else you could at least speak plainly now. 

 Slade takes his suit jacket off, revealing broad shoulders and the outline of strong back muscles. Your throat dries. Something warm stirs in you and you’re gawking again. God, you really need a better reaction to attractive people. 

 Slade holds out a glass of whiskey to you, a playful smile on his handsome face. He doesn’t seem to mind you staring at him. You swear viciously not skimping on colorful words but walk over to take the alcohol regardless. It’s on his tab and you honestly needed some alcohol in your system if you’re going to talk to him.

 “So, working for the cops not work out for you?”

 “Nah, my last sugar daddy just kicked the bucket, so I’m looking for a new one,” you say, giving Slade a wry smile.  You watch him cross one leg over another easing into a relaxed position through the wall. It was polished to a mirror shine. You guess that’s the kind of thing rich people liked. 

 “Hmmm, that can be arranged.” You choke on your drink. You scowl at him. He simply shrugs at you taking a sip of his whiskey. 

 You hear the door open, forcing you to pretend to be civil. A man around your age, dressed in a classic waiter’s outfit comes in with a tray of whiskey and two glasses. You don’t know how but you can tell the whiskey is worth more than your apartment. This doesn’t help your urge to punch Slade. 

“Will you be requiring any special toys tonight, sir?” The straightforward tone of the question makes you stiffen more than anything. The man’s eyes flicker towards you but his focus remains squarely on Slade who eyes you openly before smiling and saying “No, thanks, Anthony. I think we’ll be just fine.”

 "If you say so, sir. Please feel free to let us know if you need anything." 

 You wait for Anthony to leave before turning the full force of your scowl at Slade.“How the hell did you know his name?”

 Slade regards you impassively over the rim of his glass. You refuse to break eye contact.  He raises his hands in mock surrender.  “Alright, Kitten, you caught me. I do frequent this club quite a bit.”

 “You kinky shit.”

 He eyes you again, his eye clearly tracing your curves. “I’m not the one sitting here in their underwear with a collar on. Speaking of which-” Slade nods his head towards something in front of both of you. 

 You look at the pole, blinking dumbly as a smile spreads across his face. He tips his head to it. “I did pay for your time and the customer is always right.”

 Your mouth twists into a snarl as the tips of your ears run red. “You are insufferable.”

 “Don’t make me call the manager.” You sigh at the unspoken ‘it is definitely going to blow your cover and get you shot. At best.’ and begrudgingly you make your way to the pole. 

 You grip the pole in front of you, flexing your fingers against the cold metal. Anxiety thrums under your skin. Your eyes flick nervously to Slade who’s got the audacity to sit comfortably, sip whiskey, and smirk at you as if he was completely in his element. 

 “No need to be shy. Be a good girl and give us a good show,” he says, winking at you. Your hackles rise and your face pulls into a frown before rearranging itself into a sultry smile. You put one heel in front of you, hooking your leg around the pole and grinding your clothed sex into the metal in an undulating motion that has Slade clenching his hand around his glass. You try your hardest to grin and you suspect you’ve failed. Not that Slade’s noticed considering his eye is laser-focused on your ass. 

 With your one leg on the floor, you push yourself into a spin. Your body tips back as your hand runs down your face, chest, and abdomen drawing attention to the plains of exposed skin and delicate fabric accenting your shape. Pulling your body back up, you let your body slide down to the floor. Your legs split as soon as you made contact with the floor giving him a full view of your ass. He whistles appreciatively, tilting his head. You watch him through thick lashes, eyes bright and predatory under the neon lights. You roll onto your hand and knees. He smiles down at you watching the sweat drip down the valley of your breasts.  You were a sight to behold. 

 Slade pats his knee. “Come here, kitten.” Hunger flashes in his blue eye. It sends a warm shock through your system. It’s odd being looked at like that but you can’t feel yourself getting too concerned over it. Not when it sends a pleasant hum through your mind. 

 You crawl towards him in time with the movement, slow and steady in its place. Stopping in front of him. A large hand grasps your chin, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.  

 You sit on his lap, hand grasping his broad shoulder. Embarrassment floods back into your system now that you’re this close, now that you had the full force of that hungry gaze on you. You feel your skin heat and the weight of his gaze makes your stomach flip. 

 Seduction was other people’s gig, not yours. 

 Large hands settle on your waist, pressing circles into your skin. The buzzing feeling in your brain returns and you refocus on your task. His hands slide down the side of your body, fingers digging into your hips. His hands follow the circular motions your hips make on his crotch and guides you over the growing bulge. You hear his breath catch and hiss as you grind down on his crotch. You wrap your hands around the silk tie dangling from his neck and roughly pull him into a kiss.  

 His fingers dig into the meat of your ass drawing an embarrassingly loud yelp from you and giving him access to your mouth. You suck on his tongue and receive a pleased groan from him. Your tongues wrestle for control as he kneads your ass, making you mewl and moan into the kiss. You break the kiss needing air while Slade admires his work. 

 When Slade dips in for another kiss, you pull away pushing off of his broad chest a flirty smile dancing across your features. You turn from him, heels clicking against the floor as your show off the lushness of your figure.  In the mirror, you see Slade settling back into his position and grinning at the corners of the room again. His arms relax on the back of the couch. 

You close your eyes and let the music swallow you whole. You don’t dare hazard a glance at the mirror. You sashay your hips to the music, loosening your tense muscles. You open your eyes giving Slade your best seductive smile. You run your hands up your body, tangling into your hair. 

 You bite your lip as you slide them back down. Your fingers catch against the collar. Slade’s mouth twists.  

 You ease your arms out of your bra and let it drop to the floor. Your nipples pebble in the cold night air. The sight of them makes the corners of Slade’s mouth twitch. You push past the warmth stirring in your stomach in favor of trailing your hands down your body. Your fingers toy with the straps of your panties, watching as Slade licks his lips in anticipation.  You slide the flimsy garment down your legs, bending over and giving him a good view of your wet pussy through the mirror. 

 Stepping out of them, you toss them at Slade, who just to be an asshole, catches and pockets them. He grins at you and shrugs unapologetically. You scowl at him putting as much venom into your features as much as possible.      

You sway your lush hips in time with the music, letting the slow beat dictate the rhythm of your movements as you saunter towards him. You swallow, the silk collar still wound tightly around your neck. The intensity of his gaze makes you painfully aware of your nakedness but the embarrassment heating your skin shoots straight to your core, making you shudder. 

 Reaching him, you straddle his thighs, your plump ass grazing over his growing bulge. You moan, mouth-watering at the sensation. Your mind dwells on the feeling, your insides growing slick at the thought of him inside you. 

 Your fingers trail up your thighs and up over your stomach. You watch as his eye follows the slow tantalizing movement. His large hands grip onto the plush headrest of the couch, squeezing them as his face twists just a smidge with a mix of exertion and frustration. 

 You give him a playful smile as you slow the gyrating of your hips. A growl rumbles from his chest and you snap your hips back against his erection, the loose movement of your body hypnotic like ocean waves. Tipping your head back into his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. Your hips continue to undulate against him, feeling the deep bass of the music ripple through your body along with the shockwaves of heat coming from your core as you grind it against his bulge. The coarse feeling of the fabric against your core making your knees grow weak.  

 A sinful moan tumbles out of your lips followed closely by breathy panting. You let your eyes slide shut soaking up the sensation of his suit against your skin. You reach behind you hooking your arms around Slade’s broad shoulders to steady yourself as your press closer to his large form. He presses his lips to your neck, the prickle of his beard against your skin making you shiver. “Yeah, just like that, kitten,” he murmurs against your skin, a large hand settling on your thigh.

 You push further into him. You grind your hips, the movement deep and slow. Your hand tangles in his hair, gently guiding him to your lips. Your lips move against each other just as your bodies do, slow and sensual. You catch his lips between your teeth, nipping at it. He chuckles at your invitation, sliding his tongue inside your mouth and joining your lips once again. Below you, you feel another large hand hook onto your thigh. Both hands grip your thighs fiercely pulling them further apart, exposing your sopping pussy to the cold night air. 

 Slade breaks away from your kiss, his panting breaths hot fanning your face. You stare at each other with half-lidded eyes, lust bright in them even in the low light. He captures your lips again in a quick kiss before planting one on your shoulder. “Play with yourself,” he says, the command steady and rough against your ear. 

 The tone of his voice makes you shiver as you reluctantly release your hold on his shoulders. Keeping one hand tangled in his hair, you slowly slide your hand down your body, mewling into his skin when you reach into your neglected folds. You slip two fingers in immediately. You shudder and bite your lips trying to stop any obscene sounds from escaping. 

 A hand tilts your chin, coaxing you. “Good girl, look at yourself. Look just how wet you are just for me, kitten,” Slade says, nibbling at your ear. You yelp, your hips bucking into your hand, ass rolling against his member. You watch yourself in the mirror red-faced, open-mouthed, and sinful. Your dripping sex is in full view only obscured by your hand as your fingers dip in and out of your core. Slade’s eye never leaves the mirror even as he plants kisses against your skin. His large hand grasps your neck making sure you don’t look away from the mirror. You think of how easily he could break you and you feel like you’re on fire. 

 You're so close.  You’re so so close. You can even see the desperation carving itself so plainly on your face. Anxiety and arousal mix into a potent cocktail in your gut. The nervousness from earlier rearing its ugly head. You whine in frustration, adding in a third finger but you can’t seem to reach over the edge. You hear him chuckle behind you and see him grin into your skin. At least, one of you was having fun. 

 He gives your shoulder another rough kiss, leaving a mark before speaking. “Having some trouble, kitten?” You wrinkle your nose at his tone but...in truth, you were. You bite your lip not knowing what to say. You’re so close but… the venue made you shy and that was an entirely different problem.  Using the hand on your neck, Slade tilts your head towards him, the heat from his lips ghosting over yours. “All you have to do is ask for help, kitten,” he murmurs against your lips. The vibrations send another shockwave of desperation wreaking havoc throughout your already oversensitive body. 

 He tilts your head back to look at the mirror. You can feel your ears warm at the thought of begging but you’re a hair’s breadth away from your end. Biting your lips and furrowing your brow, you take a steadying breath but it still comes out breathy when you exhale due to the hand squeezing your thigh drifting closer to your core. He presses slow circles into your inner thigh with his thumb, his teeth nibbling at your shoulder leaving marks. A vicious curse leaves your lips blunted by a moan that follows it. 

 “Slade, please. Please. Sir, please.”

 “Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

 You tighten your grip on his hair and roll your hips against his. He growls in your ear but he doesn’t budge. “Use your words, kitten,” he commands, sounding far more patient than he actually is. You whimper, rocking against him. He holds you still, fingers digging into your flesh and body leaning into yours. “Words.”

 You pant, hot breaths loud in your ears. Whether it was his or your own you were hearing, you didn’t know and didn’t care, not when your head was jumbled with the buzzing under your skin. You swallow. His eye following the movement of your throat and the silver glint of your tag winking at you in the mirror. “Slade- Sir, please- Please, I need you. I need you inside me.”

 “That wasn’t too hard now was it?” He says capturing your lips in a rough kiss. You scream against his lips when you feel two large calloused fingers thrust into your core, stretching you replacing the ache in your core with a burning stretch. Slade releases you, steadying you so that your eyes are once again on the mirror. You both watch as his fingers pump in and out of you, the room filling up with your moans. “Keep your eyes on the mirror and watch as I make you cum.”

 He presses his thumb against your clit. The syllables of his name coming out garbled and incoherent. You cum with a whimper. Your body shakes uncontrollably, your bones melting. Your lungs take in greedy gulps of oxygen feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of them. Slade lets your head lull back against his shoulder. You press little kisses against the powerful muscles of his neck. “Thank you, sir.”

 Slade removes his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling empty. “Clean up the mess you made,” he orders, pressing wet fingers against your lips. You open your mouth letting them in. You slide your eyes shut and swirl your tongue around them. You bob your head taking them in deep. You moan, rocking your hips against his still hard cock, letting yourself imagine what it would be like to take him into your mouth. Your enthusiasm earns you a hiss from Slade. You smile as you continue to suck on his fingers and rock your body, the fire in the pit of your stomach reigniting. You flutter your eyes open. In the mirror, you see Slade, brow raised and mouth wrangled into a shape of wry amusement. “See, I knew you were a good girl,” he says voice strained. You grind your ass into him as you moan around his fingers. You gasp when a rough hand grasps your breast, nipple pinched between calloused fingers. 

 “Are you that hungry for my cock, kitten?” he asks, removing his fingers from your lips. Both your lips and his fingers glisten with your saliva. You nod not trusting your voice to be steady. He thankfully accepts it.  

 “Well, have at it,” he says, hands repositioning themselves on the back of the couch easing into a more relaxed position and looking as smug as humanly possible. He really is getting his money’s worth out of this. You shift your body making sure you brush up against his erect member as you did so. He looks almost pained when you finally face him. You drag your hands up and down his shirt, his muscles barely hidden by the soft silky material. You lick your lips, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. You slide yourself down his body, hands kneading and worshipping every stretch of muscle they come across. Fuck, they feel so good to your touch. 

 Getting to your knees, you rest your cheek against his knee. You let mischief shape your features. He quirks his brow at you, tilting his strong jaw urging you to move on. You massage his thighs as you pull yourself up. You undo his belt tossing it to the side. You pinch the zipper of his pants between your teeth and pull it down, grinning as you do it. Slade lifts his hips a bit to help you ease his pants and boxers down. Your mouth waters visibly when his cock springs free in all its glory. You gulp audibly as you figure the logistics of fitting all of it into your mouth. 

 “Take your time, Kitten. I’ve requested you for the whole night. We have time.” He drawls, smug. You roll your eyes at him finally deciding that head-on was the only way to tackle this. You lick a strip up his member paying special attention to the large vein running down the middle. You flick your eyes up to him, seeing his muscles tense. You grasp the base of his cock tight in your hand, kissing the tip and giving the slit a long, languid lick. The taste of precum wakes your taste buds. You hum, sucking lightly at the head, your hand twisting up and down his cock. His jaw tightens, the strain of keeping his hips still tightening the muscles of his thighs. 

 You spread your legs wide as you sink your head down taking him in and giving him a good view of your wet pussy. You take him in as far as you can, gagging when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. The corners of your eyes sting with tears. You still yourself, letting your throat relax around him. You pull yourself back up. Your plush lips massage his length as you go and your warm hand not trailing far behind. You keep your mouth on the head of his cock before sinking back down. His sheer girth is sure to make your jaw ache but you couldn’t make yourself care, not when you’re growing wetter the more you worship his cock. Slade for his part looked like he was gonna tear the couch apart every time you sank down to take is cock on, the fluttering walls of your throat driving him up the wall. The soft music of the room was now barely audible against the mingling sounds of your moans. Slade’s unrestrained voice was dripped with whiskey and sin. 

 His cock twitches in your throat and it’s the only warning you get before cum splashes against the back of your throat and fills your mouth. You choke but when your eyes meet his, the muscles of your throat work automatically to swallow his load. The movement followed closely by his eye. You pull back, light-headed. He grabs your chin, tilting it up to inspect your mouth. He hums satisfied.  “Kitten, that mouth of yours is definitely worth more than the price of admission.” He says brushing a thumb against your bottom lip as you pant. 

 A familiar ache in your core returns when your eyes land on Slade’s still hardened cock.  

 “Of course, a little cockslut like you wouldn’t be satisfied ‘til you’ve been filled,” he chuckles pulling you into his lap so that you’re facing the mirror, your dripping pussy hovering over his saliva covered cock. The throbbing head teasing against your sensitive folds. He kisses your shoulder, his teeth pinching your skin leaving another red bruise. You whine as he guides your hips, moving them to ever so slightly brush your core against his cock. 

 “Sir, please. I need you. I- I need you to fuck me,” you beg, hands tangling in his hair and eyes watching his member in pained hunger. You sound so needy but you also needed him inside you filling you up. 

 Slade hums in your ear approvingly. He pinches your ear lobe between his teeth, making you keen. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” That was the only warning you got before his hands guide your hips down onto his engorged cock. Your walls flutter with every inch, stretching you with every inch. A hand cups your breast while he continues to guide you down onto his cock. Rough calloused fingers knead your breast as he whispers compliments into your skin in between kisses. The cacophony of sensations is almost too much for you. 

 “Such a good cockslut, look at how well that tight cunt of yours is taking me in.” You roll your hips, urging him to quicken his maddeningly slow pace. He simply chuckles at your attempt as both his hands steady your hips. You almost cry in relief when he finally bottoms out. You pant savoring the burning stretch tearing at your insides. Pleasure and pain mingling in your sense.  

 Slade rests his chin against your shoulder, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “Kitten, I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock,” he says, in a low commanding tone making you shiver and leaving no room for arguments. You grip on to his arms, nails digging into the meat of his muscle, to steady yourself. You lean forward to get yourself into a better angle. 

 Ah ah ah

 Breathy moans and the slap of skin against skin filled the air as you roll your hips against his. You watch yourself in the mirror, breasts bouncing, mouth hanging open, and tongue lolling out getting lost in the pleasure. The mixture of shadow and light highlighting and isolating the frantic need carving itself onto both of your faces. The coil in your stomach twists as your eyes meet his in the mirror. Icy blues trailing up and down your body possessively.   

 His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it gently as he trails kisses up your spine. Your hips stutter, your walls squeezing around his cock. “You like that?” he whispers into your ear, putting just the tiniest bit more pressure around your neck. You feel your walls flutter around him and he moans in your ear. His other hand squeezes at your hip, nails digging into your soft flesh.     

 With a growl, he snaps his hips against yours almost violent in its intensity. You let out a loud yelp. Slade jackhammers into you like a madman, pummeling your pussy. His tongue dragging against your sweat-covered skin.  “Cum with me, Kitten,” he grinds out, nipping at your ear. Your pussy clenches and unclenches around him trying to squeeze his cock, gripping him as if not wanting to let go of it. He bites a hickey into your neck and you feel the coil in your stomach burst. You feel a flood of warmth fill your aching core as Slade lets himself go. 

 He turns your body around to face him, careful not to separate you two. He pulls you into a deep kiss as both of you ride out your orgasms. 

 Your body slumps against Slade’s, head resting on his shoulder and chest pressing against his. Your breaths come out in puffs fanning against his neck. Slade presses a kiss to your forehead. You yawn and kiss his throat, his pulse hot against your lips. 

 “Satisfied?” he asks, pulling your wrist to his lips nipping and leaving marks on it. You wonder just how many marks he’s left on you and if he’s technically allowed to do that. It just seems bad for business. 

 “Yes, sir,” you answer, nuzzling into his shoulder. He chuckles, rubbing his large hands soothingly over your aching muscles. He holds you tenderly for a while, both of you basking in the afterglow.  

 Through thick lashes, you see Slade look at his watch. You whine when he starts to shift. Wrapping your arms around him, you press your body closer. You see his brow wrinkle and have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. Sucker. 

 Slade gives you another kiss as he reluctantly extricates himself from your warmth. You shiver at the motion. Your oversensitive walls flutter making him groan. You whimper at the feeling of emptiness as he gently places you on the soft cushions of the couch. He places another kiss on your forehead then your shoulder then your wrist as he drapes his jacket over you. “Sorry, kitten, I have some business I need to take care of,” he says tucking himself back into his pants. “But if you feel like a repeat performance, feel free to come back,” he continues, fixing his shirt as he grins down at you. Your stomach flips despite how tired you feel. 

 You watch him walk away then stop. “Oh and I’ll be keeping these,” he teases, holding up your panties and tucking them back into his pocket. You try to sit up intent on throwing the entire bottle of whiskey at him but your limbs fail you, still feeling like jelly.

  The next time you open your eyes is when you feel someone patting your cheek lightly. 

 “March,” Anthony’s voice comes out in a haze. It takes a second for your mind to recognize the name as your alias. You take a deep breath trying to quell the panic from being woken up. 

 “What time is it?”

 “A quarter past one.”

 Good, you’ve only been asleep for an hour.  

 “Thanks.”

 “You’re pretty lucky. Looks like Mr. Wilson was feeling generous,” Anthony laughs, thumb pointing to the stack of cash by the whiskey. 

 That asshole. 

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

Thanks for reading! 

a/n: This will be a 3 part series because I am thirsty as hell. 

  Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

[lalainajanes]

This completes column #2 on my bingo card, the square was “Eager Backstage Groupie”

Another Shot of Courage

 Saturday, May 1st, 8:16 AM

Caroline wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in the little black dress she'd worn to Kat's birthday party, with a headache and a foul-tasting mouth. She's sprawled in the middle of a very large mattress, so the first thing Caroline does is explore. She stretches her arms out tentatively, expecting to poke someone (hopefully an unobjectionable someone) awake.

She appears to be alone, and Caroline relaxes into the fluffy pillows. She wiggles experimentally, satisfied when her bra and underwear dig into uncomfortable areas and gives in to the temptation to burrow under the duvet.

She just needs a minute to regret her life choices before she confronts them. Caroline sighs, stretches, and her fuzzy head begins to clear, memories sharpening.

And yikes.

Can she stay in her self-made blanket fort forever? A lot of her conduct last night had been highly irrational, some of it downright hypocritical. She is a public relations professional, highly sought after. Her clients pay many pretty pennies for her services.

Had she seriously mauled Klaus Mikaelson in one of the trendiest clubs in LA?

Caroline tugs down the blanket, intent on confirming her suspicions, allowing her to look around and study the room with new eyes.

There's a brick fireplace at the end of the bed, a wide armchair in front of it – not particularly revealing. Her eyes flick to the left. There's nothing, but dark curtains pulled tight over a wall of windows.

When she looks to the right, there's a smoking gun. Well, kind of. It's a drafting table, an easel, and shelves featuring paintbrushes, haphazardly stacked sketchbooks, and a bunch of other things that Caroline doesn't currently have the brainpower to identify.

She considers slipping out of bed and checking to see if those curtains cover any kind of door. She thinks it's logical to assume so. She's only been to Klaus' home a few times, tries to insist they meet at her office. She's never ventured far beyond the kitchen and living rooms, but it's a Spanish-style bungalow on a sprawling lot. Why wouldn't he have a walk out into the yard from his bedroom?

She discards the idea with some regret. Running away without a word is a coward's move and would probably backfire. Klaus is still her client, whatever psychosis had gripped Caroline last night, and it's not like she could dump him via email at this point. He's got a huge movie coming in three weeks, and they're flying to London tomorrow to begin the premiere tour. She could probably pass it on to another publicist, but she'd still be on the hook, would have to coordinate her plans long-distance.

Selfishly, Caroline hopes that's not necessary. She'd hate for someone else to reap the benefits of her hard work.

She heaves herself into a sitting position, wincing when her head throbs. Her stomach seems solid, with no hint of queasiness, so that's a plus. Caroline tosses the covers aside, shifts until her legs slide over the side of the bed. She catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror through the open closet door and cringes.

She'd done an excellent smoky eye last night, and it's migrated all over her face. She doesn't even want to consider how long it's going to take to detangle her hair. She decides she can wait a bit to hunt down Klaus, stepping forward and twisting the knob on the closed door. "Jackpot," Caroline mutters, walking into Klaus' bathroom. There's a stack of towels on the counter, and she figures it won't hurt to take a shower.

She'd had her tongue in his mouth and had apparently kicked him out of his bed, so what's one more presumption?

Friday, April 30th, 10:47 PM

In the VIP lounge Kat had rented, elevated above the main dance floor, Caroline waves away a shot of tequila. She'd had one during the birthday toast, wine at dinner. Had just ordered an overpriced cocktail. She's pleasantly tipsy but needs to pace herself because she can't get too drunk tonight.

Besides, Caroline and tequila have a complicated relationship.

Kat boos her, a few of the other girls joining in. Caroline laughs, "I know, I'm boring. I have a million things to do tomorrow to make sure I'm ready to live out of a suitcase for weeks."

Katherine scoffs, "Just make Klaus buy you anything you forget. What good is a guy who's hot for you and makes big fat superhero movie paychecks if he won't buy you pretty things?"

They've discussed this a bajillion times. Caroline has actually run away from this exact conversation, shouting nonsense syllables, with her fingers jammed in her ear, as if she and Katherine still fight over Barbies and who gets to wear dress-up trunk's best princess dress.

Caroline still can't resist arguing – it's a character flaw. "He's my client. That's it."

"Oh, please. Men in this town bone their clients all the time."

"That doesn't make it okay!"

Usually, this is the part where Katherine tries to convince her that Klaus is dying to be boned – her words, not Caroline's – but she gets distracted, squinting across the bar. Kat's lips curl, expression growing sly, "It appears my argument is moot."

Um, what? Katherine's literally never backed down from an argument in the twenty-plus years they've been friends. Puzzled, Caroline turns, trying to see what caught Kat's attention.

The club features several VIP lounges, each located at the top of a short staircase and decorated with wide velvet sofas and crystal chandeliers. There's an attendant who keeps booze and food flowing. It's clever – the sofas are inviting and squishy, tend to force people close together. The chandeliers ensure that anyone who happens to take a picture can get a decent shot, and the free flow of liquor has lowered the inhibitions of at least half a dozen celebrities, resulting in photos that send the gossip blogs into a tizzy as soon as they hit the internet.

When Caroline spots Klaus across the way, a redheaded model sprawled in his lap, she's immediately fuming.

"Looks like he got tired of waiting," Kat drawls. "Wanna reconsider the tequila?"

"Katherine. I love you. But zip it."

Katherine makes a face but leaves Caroline alone, turning to another one of their friends and asking a question. Caroline takes a deep breath, counts to ten.

She'd busted her ass to make him appear family-friendly enough to land the movie with the very PR-conscious studio that had netted him the big fat checks Katherine had just been crowing over. He's jeopardizing that on the eve of the most significant press tour of his career.

She looks over again, leaning forward. The redhead's moved away, she's sitting at Klaus' side, and they now appear to be merely engaged in conversation. Caroline does her best to think like a photographer – is there an angle that could make the scene look tawdry?

Probably not. So really, Klaus isn't jeopardizing anything.

Caroline's anger doesn't cool at the revelation.

She's so screwed.

She's on her feet before she decides to be, stalking down the stairs. She hears Katherine yelling borderline lewd encouragement at her back, but Caroline knows better than to take her advice.

She's marching over to diffuse, not inflame.

Hopefully.

Saturday, May 1st, 9:01 AM

She finds Klaus in his living room, asleep, his legs hanging awkwardly over the arm of a too-short couch, his torso twisted so awkwardly that Caroline's back twinges sympathetically. With the confirmation that she had stolen his bed, more of Caroline's irritation fades. The shower had helped, as had the bottle of water she'd guzzled and the three Tylenol she'd popped.

She takes a seat on his coffee table, setting down her second bottle of water. Caroline reaches out, shaking his shoulder gently. "Klaus," she murmurs when he begins to stir. "Wake up."

She could probably leave him to sleep. Klaus' stylist will handle most of his packing; he's borrowed a dizzying volume of outfits and accessories for Klaus to wear on this trip. The announcement won't come for another two weeks, but Klaus is shooting a Dior cologne ad once his press obligations wrap. The brand had requested he start wearing the newest line. Caroline had attended the last fitting, and she'd had a hard time keeping her blatant ogling under wraps.

Klaus looks good in ratty jeans, in a suit tailored to his measurements? Just about anyone attracted to men would have struggled not to appreciate the sight.

That's how Caroline had justified letting her emails pile up that afternoon.

She'd been a little worried about her control slipping on this trip, once they were alone in the hotel, and Klaus dropped the shiny, press-perfect façade he's learned to maintain. Caroline had designed that mask to appeal to the broadest possible audience. Doing interview prep has unfortunately only emphasized how much more she likes Klaus without it.

Klaus stretches, eyes fluttering open. "Good morning," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep. "I hope you slept better than I did."

Caroline winces, "Don’t you have a guest room or two you could have shoved me in?”

He smiles lazily, “You were quite insistent on touring my bedroom.”

Her eyes slam shut, face heating, “And that is why I don’t drink tequila unsupervised,” she grumbles.

He laughs, sitting up, his legs bracketing hers. He reaches for her water bottle and helps himself to a sip. Caroline leans back, fishing the Tylenol out of the pocket of the hoodie she’d stolen from his closet. She’d needed something bulkier to hide the fact she hadn’t been able to convince herself to strap her bra back on. “Do you want these?” she asks, rattling the bottle.

Klaus shakes his head, “I’m not hungover. I didn’t drink at all, and you stole that shot of tequila that was meant for me, remember?”

Ohhh no. She’d forgotten about that. She’d stolen his and the model’s.

Which, in hindsight, goes a long way to explaining what had happened after. Caroline’s problem with tequila is that once she starts, she has a hard time stopping. It heightens her usually non-existent impulsive streak, leads to sub-par decisions.

Occasionally, tequila does make her clothes fall off.

Caroline buries her hands in her face, wishing she hadn’t tied her hair back. She’s mortified, probably growing splotchy. “I am so sorry,” she mutters.

Klaus sighs, tries to tug her hands away. Caroline resists, tensing her muscles, wishes she’d gone with her first instinct and fled out the backdoor. He rests his hands on her knees, squeezing, voice dipping into coaxing tones. “No apology necessary. I’m not the least bit upset.”

Unfortunately, Caroline’s totally up to the task of being upset enough for the both of them.

Friday, April 30th, 10:53 PM

Once the attendant in Klaus VIP area confirms that he does know Caroline and lets her up the stairs, Klaus has managed to increase the distance between his body and the model’s. He seems pleased to see her, grabbing her hand and tugging her to sit next to him on the couch.

Close enough that they’re connected thigh to shoulder.

The model, whose name Caroline doesn’t particularly care about, is less welcoming. She glares daggers at Caroline’s hand, still enclosed in Klaus’. He makes polite introductions. “Genevieve, this is my publicist and very good friend, Caroline Forbes. Caroline, Genevieve. She’s a friend of Kol’s.”

Klaus’ younger brother is also an actor, still firmly in the throes of his wild child phase. Caroline finds him entertaining, despite her best intentions, but he’s known to delight in making her job more complicated. She glances around suspiciously, “Is Kol here?”

Klaus gestures vaguely to the dance floor. “Somewhere. He dragged me out to celebrate a pilot he booked, then disappeared.”

Hmm, that could lead to disaster. Caroline wonders if she should shoot his publicist a text as a professional courtesy.

Caroline smiles at Genevieve sharply, “So sweet of you to keep Klaus company.” It’s mean, but Caroline wonders if Genevieve has somehow heard about Klaus’ Dior deal through the grapevine. Maybe she’s aiming for a co-starring role – Caroline’s read the treatment for the commercial; it’s supposed to be streamy.

Oh, good lord, High School Caroline has somehow time traveled and taken over her body.

Genevieve pastes on an equally fake smile (at least Caroline’s not the only one regressing). Before she can snipe back, a silver tray is set in front of them, two shots resting on it. The attendant catches Caroline’s eye, “Can I get you anything, Miss?”

Klaus interrupts, squeezes her hand in an absent apology, “Sorry, there must be some mistake. I ordered a water.”

He’s contractually obligated to maintain a ridiculously chiseled body. Caroline’s got a reminder in her phone to order him a pile of celebratory spaghetti after his press obligations are officially over and he can relax for a few months.

The attendant’s eyes flit to Genevieve in confusion, “I…”

“I cancelled that,” she chirps, sliding her hand up Klaus’ arm. Genevieve leans in, tone lowering to what Caroline thinks is supposed to be a seductive level. “Figured we would toast.”

Caroline catches it because she’s practically plastered to Klaus’ other side. “Who toasts with tequila?” she asks. “Other than creeps at bars, I mean.”

Had Caroline not been well acquainted with Katherine Pierce, she might have been intimidated by Genevieve's attempt at a lethal glare.

Caroline stares back, reaching blindly for the first shot. She tosses it back, then the second, fighting the shudder that wants to wrack her frame through sheer willpower alone.

“Bitch,” Genevieve mutters, standing and flouncing away.

It’s petty, but Caroline savors her win.

Klaus is staring at her oddly, a touch concerned. “Maybe we should get you some water, love.”

Saturday, May 1st, 9:04 AM

“There were more shots when I got back to Kat’s party,” Caroline moans. “I’m going to kill her. She knows my weaknesses.”

“While I am reluctant to defend your irritating friend, she did seem rather intent on her fun. It was her birthday, wasn’t it?”

Caroline nods, “Yeah. And Kat’s always been firmly convinced that she should get to do whatever her little black heart desires on her birthday.”

“She did insist I ensure you get home safely. I’m afraid you were rather reluctant to supply your address.”

She sighs, finally dropping her hands. “Honestly, I just moved into a condo. I might not have remembered it.” That’s the less embarrassing option. It’s probably more likely that tequila drunk Caroline had crafted a plan to seduce Klaus, and step one entailed getting invited to his house. “I know you said not to apologize, but I obviously put you out. I’m supposed to babysit you, not the other way around.”

Klaus laughs, his knee nudging hers. “I haven’t needed that for ages, as you well know.”

He has a point – Caroline likely wouldn’t have agreed to take him on if he was still indulging in public drunkenness and paparazzi punching. When she’d first met with Klaus, it had been out of curiosity. She’d made a comfortable living from her client roster, did not need to take on the project of a difficult actor.

Klaus’ bad behavior had been a few years in the past, and he’d just come off a run of festival darlings and had produced a surprise hit sci-fi drama. He’d been frustrated by the doors that remained firmly shut to him, had laid his ambitions on the table.

Caroline had been intrigued. While she’s excellent at her job, but it’s always easier to work her magic with clients who are willing to dive into the work. Klaus’ talent was undeniable; she’d thought he could be a household name with the right opportunity. She’d agreed to take him on, and three years later, it’s paid off.

Caroline tugs the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over her hands, eyes on the frayed trim. “I was mad when I saw you last night, and that wasn’t fair. You’d set you were resting up for the press tour, but it’s not my business if you changed your mind.”

“Did you think I was resuming some bad habits?” Klaus asks. “I know that particular venue has a… reputation. Probably why Kol picked it.”

Caroline sneaks a glance at him, trying to gauge how he feels, but he’s not giving much away. “No, not really. I trust you. I wasn’t thinking super logically.”

She has to admit, at least to herself, that she’d been jealous. Caroline’s going to have to think about how deep that goes, if the feelings that had slapped her in the face last night will prevent their working relationship from being effective. What if Klaus meets someone? Will she be able to plant sneaky tidbits about how happy they are, scour the gossip blogs for rumors that could become issues?

“You? Not thinking logically? However could that be?”

She glares at him, though she knows his teasing is good-natured. “Some of it was the booze. I totally wouldn’t have hauled you onto the dance floor without it. And I wouldn’t have… well, you were there.”

She’s not up to list her transgressions. If Klaus hadn’t been drinking, then his memory of her wandering hands, her flirtatious comments, and heated invitations should be crystal clear. Caroline had been drunk, and she’s having a hard time not dwelling on the kiss – which, to be fair, Klaus had enthusiastically participated in – that she’d initiated.

“I was there. I have no objections to anything that occurred last night, save perhaps wishing you’d been sober.” Her head snaps up, eyes widening in shock, and Klaus laughs incredulously. “Surely you must know of my interest in you, Caroline.”

She’s suspected, but she’s also well aware that Klaus has no shortage of offers. Last night is proof of that. Caroline has always assumed that take one of them, at some point, and his flirtatiousness with her would fade away. She’d dated an actor or two when she’d moved to LA after wrapping up college. Caroline had been working insane hours then, trying to claw her way past the other assistants at the agency where she’d worked. Her exes from that time period had been quick to move on once they realized she wasn’t willing to center her universe around them.

“Interest can be fleeting.”

“It’s been three years.”

“You never made a real move.”

Again, Klaus counters quickly. “You’d not have accepted, and then you’d likely have pawned me off on someone else.”

Yeah, he’s got a point there. “I’m your publicist.”

“I have no objection to mixing business with pleasure. If you do, I suppose I’m willing to suffer a less competent publicist.”

“I’m beginning to suspect you’ve been plotting.”

Klaus shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “Perhaps a bit. I’ve always been entirely honest with you, I merely prevented a situation that would lessen the time we spent together until such a time as you were ready to consider me in a romantic light.”

“That’s a lot of words to confess you’ve been trying to flirt me into submission while flashing your hot body at every opportunity,” Caroline grumbles.

Klaus’ smile widens, dimples now visible. “It seems to have worked. Assuming that you meant the things you said to me last night?”

“I…” she hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that directly. She should have been – Klaus is skilled at choosing the best way to catch someone off guard. Caroline glances away from him, eyes catching on the clock across the room. Crap. She has so much to do. “I have to go,” Caroline tells him, standing up.

His eyes narrow,  and his head tips to the side, like he’s searching for a sign of weakness. Both telltale indicators that Klaus is gearing up to argue. Caroline holds up a hand, “I know, okay? This looks like I’m running away, and technically I am, but this is not the time to begin that mixing you mentioned. We’ve both worked too hard to risk screwing up the next few weeks. Did you read your contract? The fines for non-compliance are no joke.”

“Now is not the time,” Klaus says slowly. “Meaning?”

“We table it now. I’m open to a discussion later.” Three weeks is plenty of time for her to sort out where she stands, right? Caroline never sleeps on flights anyway.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I want a timeline. I understand that you feel obligated to ensure this press tour goes smoothly, but you can only use it as an excuse until it’s over, love. I’m prepared to be persuasive.”

“What, do you want me to schedule something on your calendar? Maybe set an agenda?”

“No need to be so formal. Just agree to have dinner with me once we return. Here, if you’d like, so we don’t risk inflaming the tabloids before you’re ready.”

“You seem awfully sure that this is going to go a certain way. So eager to fire me?”

Klaus gets to his feet, and Caroline sucks in a nervous breath. Sitting across from each other, he’d been a reasonable distance away. Now, with both of them standing in the narrow gap between his couch and coffee table, if one of them breathes too deeply or shifts deliberately, they’ll be plastered together.

She’s tempted despite knowing she’s right about the timing.

Klaus rests his hand on her waist and turns them so Caroline could step back if she wanted to.

She stays where she is.

A tiny smile curls Klaus’ lips and his hand moves, pressing her closer. “As much as I enjoyed your more… explicit ramblings last night, I must confess my favorite revelation was when you confessed to just how long you’ve had them.”

Caroline, not for the first time, curses tequila’s wretched existence.

Wednesday, May 5th 2:20 PM

The meet and greets are going to kill her.

Caroline had thought they were a good idea when she’d poured through the itinerary the studio had sent over. Inviting popular bloggers, auctioning off tickets for charity, allowing fans to enter random draws – it’s great PR and provides the opportunity for viral moments, while also controlling the environment.

Caroline’s leaning against one of the walls, unnoticed, eyes on her client.

A lot of eyes are on her client, some of which irritate Caroline more than others. The two teenage girls, trailed by an exasperated dad, who’d both burst into tears when Klaus had smiled at them? Totally adorable. The nerdy college student who’d grilled Klaus about his character’s comic backstory? Kind of a pain, but Klaus had done his homework, and Caroline had been impressed.

And annoyed. Excessive preparation is very attractive and unhelpful at this juncture of the press tour. Caroline’s already begun to reconsider what they’d agreed to, wonders if knocking on his hotel room door on the last night would be such a bad thing.

That line of thinking might be overly influenced by the scene in front of her.

Klaus is speaking with a woman in an afternoon inappropriate silver dress. Caroline’s sorely tempted to have her escorted out by security. She’d slipped a key card into the back pocket of Klaus’ jeans within 90 seconds of meeting him.

He’s handed it back, said something that made her laugh. They’re still talking.

Klaus glances up, eyes landing on her immediately. Caroline hastily tries to soften her irritated expression lest he guesses its reason. Klaus smiles, subtly tips his water bottle in her direction. Silver Dress invades his personal space a little more.

Ugh. It’s gonna be a long three weeks.

[scarlet-star-witch]

Hello🤍. I read you one shots about Din and Lella and they melted my heart😭🥺🥺💕💕💕. Can I request their first fight? (Of course with happy end) but angst too 🥺. Thank you. Keep doing what you do, it’s great.

This took forever and I'm so sorry! I hope you like this! xx

Pairing: Din x Iella (Female OC)

Word count: 1028

Fade Into You Masterlist

~~

Din’s anger was rising with each passing minute. His jaw was clenched tightly, his body rigid as he watched Quin flirt with Iella. She usually brushed him off, or even blatantly ignored him, but this time, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, she was laughing along with him, giving the twi’lek that dazzling smile that had previously only been reserved for him.

He’d never seen her this friendly with him before and it was more than annoying him.

Ignoring everything else around him, he watched them intently, his anger bubbling to new heights as he watched Quin place his hand on her waist. His hands clenched into fists as he forced himself to stay rooted to his spot and not cause a scene. He waited until Quin finally left her side to step towards her purposefully.

“What the hell was that?” He spoke through gritted teeth, keeping his voice low so no one else would hear.

Iella’s face creased in confusion and she looked up at him with a raised brow. “What?”

“You and Quin?”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” She groaned, turning away from him to flag down another drink from the bartender.

“El, that guy is dangerous. You shouldn’t get close to him.”

“I’m not talking about this here.” She sneered to him fiercely, grabbing her drink and hopping off her stool, weaving through the crowd to leave his side.

That alone made him feel as though he was crumbling.

As the night wound to an end and their group was making their way through the stragglers in town to get back to their ship, Din was pushing his way past the drunken idiots that stumbled into him to find Iella.

His eyes honed in on her easily and he strode towards her purposefully, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the closest alley to give them the semblance of privacy.

“Hey! What the- Mando! What the hell are you doing?” She yelled frantically, pushing his chest to break free from his grip.

“What is going on with you?” He demanded. Iella looked up at him, fighting the attraction that threatened to break through. It wasn’t often they stood so close to each other, especially in public, but their height difference never failed to set her desperation to be dominated by him alight.

But she was mad at him. She had to remember that. She had to stay strong.

“What’s going on with me?” She retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You and Quin? You two were all over each other.”

Iella scoffed and placed her hand over her eyes, like she needed to take a moment to compose herself.

“You know, for a smart man you are completely oblivious.”

“What?” He defended, flinching back on instinct, taken aback by her words.

“You really don’t see the double standard here?” She asked and Din only stared down at her, oblivious to where her attitude was coming from.

“Do you think it’s easy for me to see Xi’an hanging off your arm day after day? To hear her flirt with you and try to get you into bed at every moment?” She questioned, her rambling continuing before he could even open his mouth to respond.

“Look, I get why we’re keeping our relationship a secret, I know why we can’t let people know, but it’s killing me to see her with you like that. It kills me every time she flirts with you, every time she touches you. It hurts me that people think they can have their shot with you.”

The silence between them was suddenly stifling and Iella pursed her lips, suddenly feeling embarrassed and wishing she hadn’t just rambled all of her feelings to him.

After what seemed like the longest silence of her life, his raspy voice finally spoke again, filled with bitterness he couldn’t stop.

“So you and Quin…?”

“Oh my g- Din! Is that really all you have to say after that?”

“Well, what the fuck were you doing with him?” Din yelled back, unable to quell his bubbling anger and ignore the recurring insecurities that told him she deserved better than him, insecurities he would selfishly ignore, until now.

Iella exhaled loudly, expelling every ounce of her frustration. She looked down at her shoes, dreading the candor she had to give.

“I was being petty.” Iella admitted, embarrassed by her own actions. She had fully been trying to make the man she loves jealous and she was regretting every second of it.

“What?”

Iella sighed deeply, leaning her head against the wall behind her. “Don’t make me say it out loud.” She mumbled in agony.

“You… you were trying to get back at me?”

“Yes.” She mumbled, her voice barely heard over the cacophony of the street beside them.

“So, you were jealous?” He asked, slightly in disbelief, but unable to keep the small smirk off his face, one he was glad she couldn’t see or he’d suffer her wrath.

“Din.” She warned, the fire in her eyes returning slightly. “I don’t like Quin, ok? And I definitely don’t like Xi’an and her motor mouth.”

Din moved to lean on the wall next to her, their shoulders brushing lightly.

“I don’t like Xi’an either. Definitely not the way she likes me.” He told her sincerely. “Cyare, did you really think she has anything over you?” He asked incredulously. “You’re the only one I want, the only one I’ll ever want.”

Iella smiled softly and leaned into him, letting her head rest against his armoured shoulder. His hand slipped into hers and he held it tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I’ll tell Xi’an to back off. I should’ve told her that a long time ago.”

“No, don’t do that. She’s already insufferable, pissing her off is just gonna make her more unbearable to work with. We’ll keep sneaking around, like we have been.”

“I don’t want to hide you.” Din said regretfully. He wished more than anything that he could at least hold her hand in public, or speak to her with the love and care that he did behind closed doors.

“I know, but we have to.”

[hanibalistic]

#890E0A | LEE MINHO.

genre | faint angst, platonic relationship, fluff

word count | 1641

warning | brief mention of toxic friendships, anger directed at oneself 

note | for a good friend of mine who won’t see this, and perhaps for all the angry and neglected souls out there, i wish you great joy soon. 

minho slid a piece of paper over to you when he plopped down on his seat. you glared at it, and then up at him, and you scoffed when you saw him busying himself with the container filled with colored markers.

oh, hell, he better not have dragged you out of your one-minute meditation—which was hardly meditation at all, you were simply containing the fustration your research paper was causing you—just to have a drawing session with neon-colored markers.

"why the fuck am i here?" you asked, leaning back against the chair and sighing in annoyance.

"hey," he eyed you sharply, "mind your language."

"you upset me," you said, disregarding his warning but taking it into account anyway. "you pulled me out of studying during finals week, and you have upset me. give me a reason why i should mind my language?"

he arched his brows, slightly annoyed but understanding and sympathetic enough of your situation to not throw flames at you for being rather disrespectful. he knew you would come around when all was said and done, and you would eventually make it up to him with a grumble of apology that was just genuine enough you wouldn't need to buy him an extra cup of coffee to make him feel better.

"how are your classes?" he asked instead, diverting the conversation as he picked out the bright colors within the rainbow of options and slowly set them out before him. "are you doing good in school so far?"

you pursed your lips together, feeling icky that he was asking about your business despite you hinting so many times that you were stressed about school and the upcoming exams. perhaps you felt bitter that he was the only person who decided to reach out and ask, that he was the only one who caught onto your subtle hints, while still feeling touched that... well, he was the only person who reached out to you and asked.

it has been an on-going war with yourself—you didn't want to like minho, he was obnoxious and honest. but he was also caring, understanding, fierce, and peculiarly tolerant. you should have scared him away by now, or at least gotten him angry with your seasonally terrible behavior, but he was still here, after years.

somewhere down the line, you realized, whether you like it or not, minho was your kind of people and he was not someone you should want to let go of at all.

"it's going good so far. i am not very confident in how i would do but you know me," you smiled a little, "i always end up with a good grade."

he huffed out a smile, his lips quirking up. after finally collecting all the bright colored pencils, he looked at you and reached over, dropping them on your paper. returning to his seat, he motioned toward the pencils and spoke, "you want to draw?"

"no," you immediately replied. "you really dragged me out here to do this stupid shit? when i have an exam coming up?"

"how many times do you think you can pull the exam card before i get tired of you?" he asked, grinning at you with a sense of mockery that let you know he, again, was not very happy with your tone.

"about five times ago," you said boldly, staring straight at him with a face of blank expression yet your heart beat rapidly.

you never stop. you were afraid, always, that this would be the last staw you could pull, that this would be the last of his nerve you could step on, that this would be it. you waited for him to yell at you, you waited for him to cuss and scoff at you, you waited for the scolding to happen—and it does happen, rightfully so, but it was gentle.

minho has never scolded you in a way that made you feel inferior, in a way that feigned understanding, in a way that made you feel as if your feelings didn't matter at the expense of another.

because you do matter to him, a lot. and he would hate to have you feel like your feelings have been neglected over his need to correct your misplaced anger, whether it was of the world or yourself.

"are you angry?" he asked, tilting his head and arching a brow. "do you feel like everyone is against you?"

you looked up at him, gulping down a lump of saliva. and you muttered, "not angry, just dissatisfied... and lonely... and stressed."

he hummed, his eyes softening. "why?"

"i feel neglected, like i don't belong," you said. "and it was my fault. i think the problem is me, but i hate that i am the problem because i–"

you wanted so badly to find people you could be yourself with, unconditionally, enduringly. put aside affection and love, you wanted resonance, compassion, tolerance. but you were so scared you wouldn't be able to do so that you forced yourself to stay with those you were with right now, to be okay with what you have right now, even though those were not the right things for you.

and it broke you.

it completely tore you down, like water to fire, fire to earth, like light to shadow, shadow to bones. it broke you, made you angry, made you sad, made you snap. like a child yelling at their parents after they felt as if they have been wronged. it made you hurtful, so hurtful, and everyone blamed you for the damage others have put upon you.

"pick up the red marker," minho said after your sudden pause. "i find it helpful with releasing anger."

you clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes, looking away to hide the incoming tears you refused to let fall. "what the hell am i supposed to draw?"

"oh, i don't know," he replied casually, picking up a marker and begun doodling on the paper he prepared for himself. "what does your anger look like today?"

you clenched your jaw. "i'm not angry."

"oh, but i think you should be," he said. "rightfully so, as well, with friends like yours."

you opened your mouth, and then you closed it. after a moment of thought, happy memories flashing before your head causing your heart a moment of wavering weakness, you licked your lower lip and defended, "they're not... they're not bad people."

"yet they make you hate yourself, they make you feel like you have no place with them," he said, focusing on his paper. "they make you feel as if you don't matter, and you are only there to be funny before they forget about you."

you clenched your grip on the marker—he was spot-on.

"they're not bad people. they're friendly, they're good, and you loved them. but, unfortunately, they are not your kind of people," he said, and he finally looked at you. "and that makes you irretrievably upset, because you don't want to hate them yet again and again–"

"i can't help but dislike them all," you finished the sentence for him before taking in a shuddering breath.

"and that's okay," he muttered, "being angry is okay."

you are young, and emotional, and sad, and annoyed, and giddy. the range of emotion you could feel, the spectrum of colors you could experience according to what you do, what you like, the people you are with—your choices, your words, your mistakes, your beautiful, beautiful mind.

you will hurt people, intentionally and unintentionally. you will make people love, intentionally and unintentionally. you will apologize, you will express gratitude, you will sing and dance, and you will find your people, your person.

"be angry, and let it teach you a thing or two," he said. "just don't put it on jisung next time, okay? he's fragile, and he cares about you enough to feel upset that you, out of all people, said those things to him."

your heart thumped. until the last moment, still, he cared about you more than your words. and that would be what makes your apology genuine; not out of obligation, but out of a need, for both of your sake.

"i always apologize at the end, you don't have to remind me," you said. "i knew i was being a piece of shit."

"being self-aware is good, but it is not enough," minho said. "try doing something else next time, alright?"

you nodded quietly, your eyes moving from your paper to his face. he was so nonchalant, as he always has been. you never felt pressured by him, he lets you take it all in at your own pace, and he would always make sure he gets his point across.

"minho," you called then, and you only spoke when he looked over at you. "you know i only listen to you because i never felt like you have wronged me, right?"

his lectures, his scolding—you willingly accepted them because he has no record of making you feel disregarded and expendable, he has never made you feel like you had to be annoying to get attention, and he reached out unprovoked.

and he was your kind of people. and his kindness was not for a public show and tell.

pursing his lips into a kind smile, one that you felt as if you were undeserving of, he said, "thank you."

and he picked up his paper. you squinted your eyes at it, seeing that there were a tree and a cat next to it. it was an ugly drawing, but it was very much like him to draw something like this.

"my anger today is green and yellow," he said. "and yours?"

you sat up and took a look at the markers. licking your lips, you picked up a red marker and smiled at him, genuinely.

"i am thinking red."

minho nodded in approval.

an excellent choice.