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helaelaemond · 8 months

Note

Billy Washington idea: Soft-ish Billy being upset after getting himself into trouble again. Like, he just can't stop being a flop even when he tries to. Reader comforts him in the best and smuttiest way she can. Maybe he shows up unexpectedly at her place because he needs someone, even though he won't admit it? Idk, delinquent flop men get me going sometimes.

Title: Only worth living if somebody is loving you - part of the It's All For You series but can be read as standalone

Pairing: Billy Washington x female reader

Summary: Billy has been fired and feels worthless. But you love him; he's everything to you. So you show him how much worth he has. Established relationship, handjob, fingering, pet names, mild daddy kink, mild dirty talk.

Word count: 3.1k

Rating: E

Notes: thank you so much for the prompt! This was a lot of fun to write when I am supposed to be working!

You're not meant to have your phone on at work, but you get away with it where you can. You're in the basement kitchen today, anyway, so no customers will see. Behind the shoddy table set up as a makeshift barista bar, you fill tray after tray of tea and coffee - Blue Lady, Darjeeling, Sumatran, Colombian, jasmine, they all roll into one in the end. So feeling your phone vibrate in your apron pocket is a delightful distraction.

You ignore the tickets coming through behind you, and get one of the dish boys to cover you. "What? I need a fag," you reply over your shoulder when he protests. You smile giddily at your phone and swipe to answer. "Hey, Billy."

He doesn't sound happy on the other end. "Hey."

You slink into the alley and crouch close to the floor, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "What's up?"

"You got a sec?"

There's something in his voice that worries you. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Tell me."

He sighs. You hear him blare his horn as he drives, followed by a string of profanities. "Fucking wanker! Twat!"

You take a long drag. "You on a run?" He's been a delivery driver for a delivery service for a few months now. It's shitty money and shitty conditions, but it's all he could get after being fired from his last job. Hitting a customer. The customer swung for him first, but it was Billy who landed the first successful punch.

"No. Driving home."

"Oh?"

"Don't fucking start."

You force yourself to smile against your phone. Your voice is soft. "Hey. I'm not starting anything. You called me."

He sighs again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't... I can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"They sacked me."

"Why?" you ask, closing your eyes and wincing.

Billy's voice is clipped. "Didn't meet their targets."

"Those targets are bullshit," you snap defensively. Everything he's told you about his job has you seeing red - they take advantage and bleed him dry. "You don't need that place."

"I need the pay check."

"We'll figure it out. Where you going now?"

He pauses. You hear his indicator, and the rev of his ancient car engine as he moves between gears. "Your parent still away?"

You watch as the smoke you blow out rises up the alley and into the sky. "Yeah. Key's in the plant pot. I finish in an hour. Make yourself at home."

Billy's car is parked lazily on your street, and you feel butterflies in your stomach. It's been a few years since you got together, but adrenaline still runs through you at the mere thought of being near him. He's got you addicted, flaws and all. It made you want to run all the way home after your shift ended, but you don't think you quite have the stamina for a three-mile sprint.

"Hey, Billy," you call as you let yourself into the home you still share with your parents. London prices are impossible - you'll probably live with them until they die

He grunts in response, and you follow the noise into the living room. He's sat on the sofa facing away from you, head bent, and you go to him. You drop your bag and kick off your shoes and wrap your arms around him from behind. "Hey, daddy."

He winces. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" you whisper against his ear. "You usually like it."

Billy pulls out of your arms and shifts on the sofa. "Yeah, well, I don't right now."

"Sorry." You go to the kitchen and make two cups of tea - milk and sugar for you, no sugar for him. None of the loose-leaf shit you serve at work, just proper Yorkshire bags. He follows you quietly, and thanks you when you hand him his. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugs, still avoiding your gaze.

"Billy." Your voice is soft. The hard pain in his face hurts to see.

He licks his lips and takes a sip. It's scalding, and he hisses quietly. You put your cup down to cool, and go to him. Your hands find their place on his narrow hips, and you look up at him. He's so tall; it makes you feel so safe. His hair is getting long, and it falls over his eyes.

After a long moment, he finally meets your gaze. "I really tried with this one."

You nod. "I know."

"I promise."

"I know."

"Why are you with me?" he asks softly. When he tries to pull away, you hold him close. "I'm not... God, you deserve better than this."

"No, Billy, no." One hand runs to the small of his back and the other finds his cheek to guide his gaze back to you. "You're worth so much more than a shitty job."

"I'm a failure."

"No, you're not," you soothe. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Don't let some stupid job define you."

"You deserve so much more than me."

You reach up on your toes and kiss his lips firmly. He meets your kiss with a quiet sigh. "You're all I've ever wanted and needed. Don't worry about the job."

"I'm not worthy of you."

Taking his hand, you lead him back to the living room. You both bring your cups with you and set them on the coffee table. You push him to sit on the sofa, and when you straddle him, it's satisfying how naturally his grasp finds your backside. But still, he drops his head to your shoulder in defeat. You stroke his hair and gently massage his scalp, just as he likes.

"You want me to tell you how much I love you?" you murmur.

He swallows thickly. He shakes his head.

"You want me to show you? You want me to help you forget everything else?"

He doesn't react, except to pull you tighter. You smile slightly, and kiss his hair. Sex is something that brings you closer than anything else. It's the place where Billy feels most in control, where he can take care of you and call the shots and do everything to make you feel good. You accidentally called him daddy once when he was fucking you, and that was the day your dynamic changed. He leaned into the nickname proudly, and he wears it like a secret badge of honour. He does everything to earn it, too. He takes care of you, dominates you like you need. It's the only time when he feels like a real man. He loves you so much, he forgets what hating himself feels like.

The world is cruel to him, but you never are. You're just obsessed with him.

"You want me to take care of you?" you whisper against his ear. Billy buries his face against your chest, and gently bites through your shirt. It smells of coffee and tea and kitchen grease. He nods again.

"Alright. I can do that." You tilt up his chin and kiss him. This time, it's deeper. When you part your lips, he mirrors you and welcomes your tongue into his mouth. Pulling back for a moment, you look into his piercing blue eyes. "Can you do something for me?"

He nods.

You smile softly. "Can you undo my shirt for me, please?"

Billy's eyes are wide, and he nods again. Long fingers complete the task, and your white work shirt falls open. Underneath is a practical bra, white and cotton and far from sexy. Still, just the sensation of him opening your shirt makes your nipples hard, and that's enough for him. "Thank you," you say, affection in your voice. "Can you touch me?"

He's putty in your hands for once. This is new territory for you, being so in control. Usually, he's the one gently telling you what to do, his voice sugar and honey as his requests and commands turn from this kind of sweetness into depravity. You're trying to emulate him now, to give him what he might need.

He runs his knuckles over your breasts through the fabric, up and down he goes, catching your hard nipples each time. Half the time you're with him, it feels like the first time. Not in a bad way, just the excitement and anticipation, and how much you fucking need him. Just this touch has you feeling your heartbeat in your cunt.

"Lean back, baby," you tell him. You haven't called him that before. It's the pet name he calls you when he's fucking you to the point of tears, and so you're unsure. He shakes his head slightly. "Lean back, Billy." That, he obeys, and that makes you smile. "Good. Can you take off your shirt for me, too?"

Keeping his eyes on you, he takes off his black tshirt and tosses it aside. You grab it, though, and press it against your nose to catch his scent. "Mmph. I love your smell."

"Yeah?" His expression is softening slowly over time. The tension in his eyebrows is smoothing out.

"Yeah, I do." You shrug out of your open shirt. As you unclasp your bra, you shift to straddle one of his thighs instead of both, and grind slightly. The friction feels so good. When you're good for him, daddy sometimes lets you ride his leg until you come. The thought makes you shiver. "I love everything about you."

"I..." As you throw aside your bra, Billy runs his hands up your sides and back down to your hips. His eyes dart between your face and your breasts. "I don't deserve you."

In his grey joggers, you see his familiar swell. It's impossible to resist reaching for it and pressing the flat of your hand to him. "You deserve me every single day, Billy. You make me feel... oh, God. You make me feel divine."

His hands go back to your breasts, and elegant fingers gently tease your nipples in perfect tandem. Under your hand, you feel his cock twitch. He loves your breasts. Then, he mirrors your action, except his hand tugs down your zipper and he presses his fingers against you over your underwear. A slight lift of your hips, and his hand is trapped between you and his thigh.

"No," you murmur with a smile. "I want to focus on taking care of you."

"You are," he replies. "It makes me feel good to take care of you, too."

He's rewarded with a kiss to his pretty lips, and this time his tongue finds yours first. The pressure of it makes you shiver again. You grind harder against his hand, whilst your own hand palms him through the soft material.

"God." He drops against the back of the sofa again and looks up at you. "Promise you love me."

You take the hand between your legs to your mouth. As you suck his fingers, you look into his eyes. You swirl your tongue between them, over them, and your other hand reaches into his trousers. You fumble with the band of his boxers, and trap his cock under it. You touch the red tip and moan around his digits.

"I fucking love your cock," you moan as you pull his fingers from your mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can't get enough of it, not ever."

"What do you do when we're apart?" he asks, encouraging you. Suddenly, he grabs you and pulls you to sit next to him on the sofa. His confidence is returning.

"I... I watch that video you made for me a few months ago."

Billy watches your face and bites his lip. "Take off your clothes," he murmurs softly. You obey. "What video?"

With his gentle dominance coming back, your heart is racing. He lifts his hips to help you push down his trousers and underwear, and you begin a steady rhythm with your hand on his cock. "The one where you're alone on your bed."

"Spread your legs for me, baby."

Your breath catches in your throat. Again, you obey. He runs his palm up and down the inside of your thigh, and he pulls it over his leg. The intimacy of feeling your legs rest together makes your chest flush. Billy's hand slides up the soft skin of your inner thigh, and he watches your face. He has more control over his expression as you stroke him than you do when his fingers run up and down the outside of your pussy.

"What was I doing in the video?" he asks softly.

Moaning. Writhing. Begging. "Touching yourself."

"You never sent me a video back."

You laugh quietly. It turns swiftly to a moan when Billy's middle and ring fingers glide between your folds lazily. "I... I tried."

"Did you?"

As two digits press at your entrance, your hand on his cock stills. The pressure is delicious, a little demanding, a little possessive. He touches you like he owns you. He does own you. "Yeah. But... oh, shit, that's nice. But when I watched it back, I... mmph, Billy- it wasn't quite right."

"Impossible," he whispers. He leans over to kiss your neck just as his fingers slip inside. "Everything about you is perfect."

"You're blind."

He bites your ear and then blows into it. "I'm a man in love, that's all."

"Love," you breathe. Finally, you find the strength to stroke him again, although his fingers moving inside of you are driving you to distraction. "There aren't enough words to tell you how I feel about you."

"Mmm?"

"I'm fucking obsessed." He rewards you with his thumb pressing against the side of your clit. He gently rubs up and down, careful not to overstimulate you. "Shit, just like that, please-"

"I don't deserve you." But he's smiling this time. "My pretty girl."

When he says things like that, you utterly melt. And then, it's you who's putty again, and Billy who's in control. "Kiss me?"

"Come here, baby."

You whimper needily when he pulls out his hand. But he grabs your hand, and you climb back into his lap. His trousers and underwear are still on his thighs. Perhaps if he fucks you good enough, you'll leave your smell on them.

"You want me inside you?"

You nod and clutch his shoulders. "Please."

"Please, what?"

It's not even a question. It's am automatic response now. "Please, daddy."

"Oh, that's my good girl."

As you cling onto him, Billy runs his cock through your folds, pressing the head against your clit. When you feel his bluntness against your entrance, you whine softly. "Please. I need you so bad. Please."

"You love me?"

You nod, and press a feverish kiss to his forehead. "I love you so much."

As he presses inside you, your mouth drops open in a silent moan. He's perfect for you, not big enough to hurt, not small enough to frustrate. He doesn't stretch, he fills. He's everything to you. You grind against him and feel the delicious slip of him inside and out. When you rock against his hard pubic bone, he praises you. "Good girl, taking what you need. I'm so proud of you."

It makes you bite your lip. You rock in a familiar rhythm that suits you both. His kisses are on your chest and your shoulders, hot and wet. Over the pulse in your neck, he sucks gently. He'd never leave a mark on you that would embarrass you for other people to see. But when his lips find your breasts again, he gives you flowers of purple and red.

"Fuck!" you whine. "You're perfect, you're so perfect."

He crushes his mouth against yours. Strong arms wrap around your back and then all of a sudden he flips you onto the sofa and shoves your legs up. They press together and you feel the ache down the back of them, but it's nothing compared to the ache in your cunt now he's left you empty. It's only for a moment, though. He slams back inside you, and the change in angle threatens to overwhelm you. Like this, his every pound has the tension between your legs stimulated.

"Daddy!" you moan. "Please, let me see you, please, please-!"

The hand that grips your ankles loosens enough to let one leg drop down. Now you can see him, his slight grin, the fire in his eyes. He looks at you like a man obsessed, like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

"That's it, baby," he pants. His hair sticks to his sweaty forehead. His tight balls slap against you with every thust, making you whimper. "You're taking me so beautifully. Well done, my sweet girl."

"I'm so close!"

"Tell me what you need." He holds your elevated leg up by his shoulder, and turns his head to kiss your ankle. But his eyes never leave yours.

"Your h- Jesus! Hand! Please! Please!"

"Well done," he says again between laboured breaths. "You're so good at telling me what you need. Like this?"

While his hand presses firmly against your pelvis, his thumb finds its way back to your clit. The circles he runs are harder and faster now.

"Can I come?" you beg.

"Of course, baby. Whenever you need."

'Thank you, daddy!"

He's so good to you. He makes sure you orgasm first. Billy pounds you through your explosive completion that makes your whole body jerk, and only when your guttural screams have subsided does he let himself go. You got the coil so he can have you properly. He clings to the thigh against his chest as he comes, spending deep inside you. The cry of your name is deep and ragged. It sends aftershocks rushing through you.

He collapses on you, and you both pant. Only when his cock begins to soften does he pull out of you, but beyond that, neither of you move much. His face is buried in your neck, and your hand is buried in his hair.

After a while, you feel lips press softly against your throat.

"You okay?" you whisper.

"Mmm."

"I wanted to be the one to take care of you." You laugh softly.

He kisses your skin again. "You always take care of me." His voice is nothing more than a mumble.

The laughter fades on your lips. "I always will. I love you so much."

"You make life worth living."

Your arms tighten around him. "Your life is so precious, Billy. We'll find a way to make it better. I promise."

"I love you."

#billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #ewan mitchell #billy washington x oc #billy washington #billy multi #ask #anon #sorry if hes not pathetic enough for you!!!!!!!!! my vision of him has evolved a lot #hes still in a flop era though #mine

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dearspiritss · 9 months

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literally anything swiss x reader !!! (please)

I'm sorry this took so long, but is that another Swiss lover I see? I have just the thing for you. A taste of hurt/comfort for you my dear.

CW: descriptions of panicking, overthinking, passing out.

Reader is a ghoul because I said so ☝️

“I’ve Got You.”

You didn’t hate Swiss, you never did, but the day you were summoned and you saw that overly enthusiastic grin, you decided to avoid him like the plague. Yet, somehow, he always found his way to you. Obnoxiously breaking down those walls you oh so carefully built up, trying to get past that fiery attitude you always held. He adored the way you reacted to his antics. The way you’d growl and snarl at him until you’d just give up, giving him a harsh punch to the arm. The way your face flushed with anger and your spaded tail flicking behind you as you yell at him to “just go away”.

He wouldn’t give up. He needed to break you, to try and find the softest part of you that you’d buried away for no one to see.

And this didn’t go unnoticed by the pack, far from it, they got involved on multiple occasions. One ghoul having to hold you back from ripping his face off, another ushering Swiss away so they could calm you down. All because of a small comment on your hair that morning, how it looked nice. He was nice to you, yeah he teased you a lot, but there was never any venom behind it. You didn’t know why you got so pissed off the sudden compliments or his dopey smile. You don’t know why you reacted the way you did when he spoke to you. Maybe you really did hate him-

-or maybe you were afraid of loving him.

Ever since that thought popped up, you haven’t been able to sleep. Laying restlessly in your bed, staring up at the ceiling and pondering about the unforeseen fear. Angry and confused tears gather in your eyes, making the different colors of your room blend together. You tried your best to not let them fall, not to let your composure fall, but you failed. Over and over, giving into the overwhelming thoughts and fears at night. You were drowning, unable to breathe. Eventually you gave up, finding yelling and screaming exhausting whenever he came around to tease you. You would just stand there with a dead expression, and he noticed.

He noticed your tired eyes and the sorrowful tone in your voice when you spoke, and it worried him. Did he cause this? Something in him changed, he stopped. He stopped making sly comments and gestures, just a casual “hello” whenever he came in contact with you. This confuses you, deepening your current state. The dark circles under your eyes darkened in color and your skin was paler than usual. You’d lost your spark, and he noticed. He noticed everything. He had a suspicion that things wouldn’t end well for you if this kept on any longer, and he couldn’t have been any more right.

Practice was only getting worse, wearing you down layer by layer. One day it was especially rough, you’d barely gotten through it with a few mistakes here and there. No one noticed, no one except him. When everyone was dismissed, it was just you and him in the almost soundproof room. You were struggling to stay upright, swaying back and forth. Your restless nights and horrid habits were catching up to you at the worst possible time. He noticed. With worried eyes, he watched. He watched as you struggled to pack up your instrument and notes, the obvious tremble in your hands making it hard to do so.

“y/n, are you alright? You seem a bit… shaken up.” He asked, cautiously making his way towards you in small steps. You could only turn and nod your head, which made you dizzy. You held your head in one hand, trying to calm yourself down. “I’m fine.” He was close now, you started to panic. “Are you sure you’re fine? You don’t look fine.” Your breathing picked up and that familiar feeling of drowning came back to you. Before you could even register it, your legs gave out beneath you, but you didn’t hit the ground. Instead, a pair of warm arms wrapped around you. “You’re alright, I’ve got you.”

When did your room get so warm? The some-what familiar scent of cedar and whiskey, and maybe a hint of weed, gently washed over you. You shot up from your sleep, looking around at your surroundings. This wasn’t your room, far from it. The sound of a door opening and the light shuffle of feet caught your attention. When you looked towards the door, your frightened eyes were met with Swiss’ own wide ones. He was holding two mugs, steam flowing up and into the atmosphere of the room. He quickly shut the door and hurried to your side, sitting the mugs on his side table.

“You feeling better?” Swiss questioned, taking his place beside you on the edge of the bed. You nodded and he rubbed your head, being careful of your horns. You were sore and confused, so confused. “What happened.. The last thing I remember is being in practice.” The ghoul in front of you sighed and shifted his position. “You blacked out, luckily I was there to catch you before you hit the ground.” You looked down at your hands in your lap, giving a small “oh”. He took your hands into his, they were warm and calloused presumably from his guitar wearing them down. “Why didn’t you tell any of us you were struggling?”

You couldn’t keep back the sob that ripped its way though your throat. “I-I try so hard to be strong, I really do, but you- I-“ Is all you somehow managed between heavy sobs, and he somewhat understood. He pulled you into a tight embrace, running a soothing hand up and down your back. “You are. You’re so strong, but what’s got you breaking like this?” Swiss’ voice was right in your ear, which in turn made you sob harder. “Y-You. Satanas, it’s always been you.” His breath hitched in his throat and his hand stopped. “Oh. I’m so sorry- I’ve tried to stop teasing and bothering you. I-I knew it was me, you should leave-“

You cut him off, pulling back and furiously shaking your head. “Swiss, no- you don’t get it.“ He put both hands on your shoulders, golden eyes staring into your own. “Then help me understand. How do I help you?” Another sob came through you, this time gentler than the last. “The sly compliments and teasing- your voice, your signature grin, your eyes- I love it all, I love you. I’m so scared to love you, I’m scared to love anyone..” He put a hand on your neck and pulled you close again, his clawed finger tips tangling into your hair. There was a silence, a short one that felt like an eternity.

“I understand, and I love you too. So much. It’ll take some time, but you’ll learn to love again. I promise I’ll be here every step of the way, you’ll never be alone again.” You nodded and let yourself melt into his hold, the heavy feeling of fear disappearing. The two of you sat like this for a while, barely moving an inch. The comfortable silence was broken by the multi ghoul. “I’m gonna let go for a second, ok?” You hummed and pulled away, sleep tugging at your eyelids. Your eyes followed him as he laid back against the mount of pillows on his bed. He opened his arms and tilted his head, signaling you over.

You hesitantly accepted, situating yourself on his chest. He gently wrapped his arms around your form, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. Before you knew it, you were a puddle of ghoul in his arms, lightly purring at his heartbeat. He chuffed out a laugh, making his chest bounce slightly. “You just needed some love, sweetheart, and I’m here to give it ya’ whenever you need it.” A small smile crept onto your lips and you nodded.

The next morning, the ghouls couldn’t figure out why your behavior changed overnight. The day before you were a sack of bones, today you were beaming at anyone you came across. They weren’t complaining, though, they loved this unforeseen part of you. What made them nervous was when Swiss walked into the kitchen, going straight for you. He tapped you on the shoulder and smiled at you as you turned around to face him. A few ghouls gasped from the distant living room when he opened his arms to you, suggesting a hug, which you hesitantly, but happily, accepted.

They were confused, so confused, but happy. Happy for you, happy for Swiss, and happy that they didn’t have to deal with y’all’s shit anymore.

Again, sorry this took a bit and that it’s kinda sucky, I wrote the majority of this sleep deprived. I hope you enjoy it though <3

#swiss ghoul #multi ghoul #swiss x reader #swiss army ghoul #ghost the band #the band ghost #my brain is fed thanks anon #swiss make brain go brr #ghost band

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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months

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I can't decided if I like Alfred/Clockwork or Alfred/Danny more

I adore the idea of Alfred charming these two powerful ghosts. The man is too perfect to not have the concept of Time and Protection to be in love with him.

#dcxdpdabbles #mun speaks #Multi shipper #I love both Anon

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dailybuffysummers · 1 year

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i believe in you. you’re a survivor. you can do this. buffy, fight it. you’re too good to give in. you can beat this thing.be strong, baby, okay?

for anonymous: buffy in pale colors

#buffysource #slayerdaily #btvsedit #buffy summers #buffysummersedit #femalecharacters #femaledaily #multi ep #requests #i hope this is pale enough for you anon!!#by liz #*

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mothercetrion · 6 months

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AU where Kenshi is still a Yakuza member and he and Johnny have an affair :) multiple chapters planned

directly inspired by @tokillaking13 and their incredible Johnshi art (support it here and here!)

#johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #johnshi #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #fic #my fic #mine #do not have a set update schedule itll just be when i have the time!! :)#absolutely ecstatic to start this fic project #i havent written multi chapter anything in YEARS #to tokillaking13 #i cannot emphasize how much i have thought abt your art in the past few days #i truly hope you like this project im working on :)#and also #i was that anon. from earlier today #thank you for sharing your gift with us <3

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badlydrawnjohn · 5 months

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awesome eating a burger but i meant the mod lmao

#ooc #ask #worry not anon #the burgber #was multi disemnsional.

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

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For Multi-May!!

I so desperately wanted to think of a really great request or suggestion but know that I have the opportunity all of my ideas have vanished.

So instead, I want to ask for Stu & Billy poly!ghostface with a plot or idea that you've always wanted to write but never got around to. It could also be any other poly!ship you have That One Idea for that you just never had the perfect opportunity to write.

I'm essentially giving you a wildcard! I'm super curious if you have any ideas like that - Ideas that for some reason you just never get around to even though they plague your mind. Because I sure do.

- 🦇

Well Batty! This is such a fun one! I have gotten in the habit of always writing whatever I want for myself all the time now but still, I have had this idea for a long ass time and have never gotten around to it so thanks for the excuse! Your request is the second entry for Multi-May, Billy loving lingerie and my assorted thoughts about that, so let’s go!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. Billy Loomis X Stu Macher X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Poly!Ghostface. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings: Established Poly! Relationship. Could Be Read As TBABTO Compliant. Fear Play. Knife Play. Banter. Dirty Talk. Spanking. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Softness. Feelings. Mid-Sex Introspection Kind Of. Domesticness. Creampie. Slight Overstim. Sloppy Seconds.

—

I Love You Best In…

—

Billy Loomis has always loved lingerie, ever since the first time he found out it was a thing when saw something lacy and pretty and soft in a catalogue. The thing was, he wasn’t picky, he loved it all, whether it was cotton candy pink and fluffy, almost like a cupcake; or something tight, with straps on straps, criss-crossing over each other and black, as if ripped right out of a trashy goth themed porno.

He didn’t care, it was all good. He even preferred you leaving it on, would love to just displace it, pull particular parts aside to reach what he wanted to, something about that made it feel better, rushed, hotter for him. He loved you naked, naturally, but there was something so appealing with the lingerie worn askew, and framing your best assets as he fucked into you.

As soon as you found out that he had this weakness you of course exploited it at every single turn. You would wear just about anything, matching sets, thigh high stockings, once you found an obscenely short dress that was made of nothing but black fishnet and that poor piece of clothing was ruined beyond recognition by the time he was through with it.

He would ask, make requests from time to time but much more often than not it wasn’t necessary, you’d play dress up plenty without him needing to prompt you. He has seen you in all manner of differently delightful and debauched attire and various states of dress, so why was this the thing that did him in the most? Coming into the bedroom to find you folding laundry, his eyes dragging up your bare legs to see all you had on was that big slouchy white sweater that Stu loved so much and judging by how high the hem rose while lifting your arms, seemingly nothing else. Billy isn’t able to just watch for long, before need overcomes and he is sauntering into the room, he doesn’t bother greeting you verbally, instead letting his hands rest on your waist. How you jumped in surprise was endlessly satisfying for Billy, he never got tired of getting the drop on you, scaring you.

Your head turns and upon seeing Billy’s face you soften, shoulders dropping back down, you roll your eyes and sigh, “Shoulda known it was you.”

“Who else would it be?” He asked and your head turned forward again, focusing back on folding the shirt that was in your hands. He leaned in closer, his chin resting on your shoulder, his hands sliding forward, over your stomach, holding you. He could really appreciate the soft material of the clothing item you stole from Stu, now being so close he could smell his scent lingering in the white fibres. He inhales deeper but tries to keep it subtle, if you do notice you don’t comment on it, instead answering the question he posed previously.

“Oh I dunno, maybe the guy who’s sweater I’m wearing right now?” You ask and he says, “Stu doesn’t like scaring you as much as I do.”

“True, not in the same way that you do at least.” His hands start to move, sliding over you, enjoying the sensation of the top sliding over your skin, “And how’s that?”

A hum before you say, “You like doing it like you just did, sneaking up on me, making me jump, and sure Stu does sometimes too but he prefers making me really scared, making it real and intense.”

His head lifts and he leans over your shoulder, getting a better look at your face, “You want to share an example?”

You give a small smile and with a shrug you pick up a pair of his jeans and start to fold them next, “Sure, like, last week, we were doing the dishes and at one point Stu picks up this big fucking knife I used to prep dinner earlier, right?”

He nods, his hands continue to wander, taking their time. “Mmhm, go on.”

You do, “So he takes the knife and starts waving it around and bringing it close to me and it’s all fun and whatever but then he, like, pushes me into the counter suddenly.”

His hands move lower, the fingers on one of his hands catch the bottom hem of your sweater, starting to drag it up, and the other starts to run over the newly exposed skin.

You are still talking, “He’s got a hand on my throat and the knife is so close to my face and he is giving me that look, you know it, like he is hungry and manic, And he’s saying all these terribly threatening things in that low sweet tone with that big fucking grin and it’s-”

“Terrifying?” He asks, his own smile clear in his tone, as his hand slides between your legs and you sigh out, head tipping back, “Very.”

He starts to touch, slow and easy and he asks another question, “And then?”

Your eyes fall closed and you tell him, “And then he just stops, just backs off and laughs like it is some big joke and he’s back to normal and I’m left reeling and have to go back to doing the fucking dishes.”

“Sounds like Stu.” He sounds amused. You are sure he is picturing the exchange right now and likes it, his fingers don’t relent, they become more focused, pick up the pace and the pleasant sensation starts to sink in and you nod with a soft moan, “Mmm, totally him.”

You’ve abandoned folding the clothes, simply holding the denim in your grasp and just as you are starting to really sink into the feeling of Billy touching you, his hands are lifting up, instead he pushes you forward. You weren’t expecting it and fell onto the clean pile of laundry on the bed, his hands are back on you, resting on your hips, forcing them up, causing the sweater you had on to get pulled up in the process, exposing you to him. Turns out you did have something under Stu’s sweater but it is so small that only until now with you so spread and exposed can he see it properly. This is a newer piece, he’d been with you when you bought it, along with several other fun things, but he hadn’t seen it on you yet, sheer, delicate and white, matching the sweater with startling accuracy.

“Fuck, you look so good like this.”

Oh you know that tone and know it well, guess this one is another winner, you bite back a smile, his hands are back to moving on you. One comes to a stop on your lower back, holding you in position, the other between your spread legs, touching you through the material and the extra friction it provides is good, you of course alert him to that fact with a quiet moan of his name. The touching you doesn’t last long, only until he sees the clear and visible wet spot spreading over and seeping through the thin white that barely covers your cunt. Soon enough he is pulling them aside, two fingers sink inside of you, curling and feeling, his thumb swipes over your clit and you clench around him. He groans at feeling your walls gripping at his fingers, he asks, “God, you’re this wet already?”

“Mighta had a make out sesh with Stu before he had to get to class but we couldn’t do anything serious.” You admit and he praises, it sounded like he was smiling, “What a good boy he is, warming you up for me.”

“Yeah he’s the best, isn’t he?” You agree with a small laugh that he returns and then Billy’s fingers are leaving you, his jeans are too tight, it is starting to border on painful and he needs you. The sound of his belt hits your ears next, unsurprising and you are not complaining. You had already been thinking about seeking Billy out for this very thing once the laundry was done, finishing what Stu started earlier, scratching that itch.

He nudges you up the bed with a light smack landing on your ass and you do as instructed, you move up and he gets onto the mattress too, one hand on you and the other on the base of himself he lines up. He is rushing but he has to have you, about to fuck you on the clean pile of laundry with no care, he is in the right position and his hips press forward and he slides in easily.

It’s dirty and it’s quick but it satisfies you both, the stretch of him feels fantastic with just that slight achy burn from him fucking you just a little too hard and just a bit too fast. He more than makes up for it, his chest to your back, hot breath in your ear, wandering hands and filthy words, broken praise among the strained sounds of pleasure, “God, so good, how-fuck-how are you, so, so fucking good?”

You loved when he was so into it, could hardly talk straight without letting out at least one moan or a curse, not like you were much better at the moment.

Currently all you could seem to do was gasp out his name and your own series of swear words. He was obsessed with this, fucking you in this way, his treatment rough but the sweater you wore so soft, smelling like your shared partner, it’s like you were all wrapped up in Stu but still you. His favorite was sharing you with him but if he couldn’t be here then this was the way to fuck you, the reminder of his best friend, his confidant, his partner in crime unignorable.

He loves this sweater, so many memories tied to it and just to Stu, his eyes closed and he is overrun with the times Stu and he were close enough that he could smell him, feel him, those precious first times that changed everything. Christ, why was this getting to him so badly? Making him so sappy and soft, seeing you, wrapped in Stu’s clothes, in your shared apartment, it’s domestic and sweet, honestly everything Billy has ever wanted. You in leather or lace is good, is hot, you in this though? It is a reminder that shit worked out, he has not just one but two people devoted to him, who love him for who he is, it’s stability and safety, comfort but still finding ways to keep things exciting even while feeling all of that.

It’s doing him in faster than he would like, he wants you to reach your end too, he rushes out, “Touch yourself.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice, his hips snapping into yours, one of his hands reaching around, palming one of your tits through the sweater, the other still on the bed to help keep himself up right and your own hand shooting between your thighs. He cums before you do with a groan of your name, body tensing and him holding to the hilt inside but it doesn’t take much more for you to find your own end, nimble fingers stroke yourself just so and you cum with him still inside of you a minute after he does.

Your walls pulsing on him post orgasm making him inhale through his teeth at the slight overstimulation that washes over him but he endures, it hurts so good. Your high finds its natural end and it leaves you both panting, trying to catch your breath, he pulls away first, sliding out and the amount of him inside of you spills out, that snaps you back to reality very quickly. You reach back, tug the underwear into place to try and stop the drip from making this worse, you sit up, look over your shoulder and you curse seeing the leaked mess of you and him on one of your favourite shirts, “Fucksake Billy, I just cleaned these clothes.”

He is tugging his pants back up and rolls his eyes, saying like it is obvious with a smile on his face, “So clean em again.”

Before you can get up to do that or protest further he is back on the bed and wrapping you up, pulling you down with him, you sigh, knowing that laundry is out till he is satisfied with cuddling you.

You end up falling asleep there for a while and later on you find yourself back at folding the laundry. Billy was nice enough to wash and dry it at the very least before he had to go to a late class. Stu’s sweater needed to be cleaned, some of the hem got messed up and cum stained and it got pretty sweaty overall from how hard you were going at it, so you swapped out Stu’s sweater for this dark blue and white flannel shirt Billy favoured.

Hearing the apartment door open and you call out that you are in the bedroom and in a minute Stu comes into the room to find you just about done with your task and he sounds delighted by what he sees, “Oooh well hello there.”

A look over your shoulder and you return his greeting, “Hello to you too.”

“You still doing laundry?” He asked, clearly confused, “You were doing this when I left hours ago.”

Laughing, you tell him as you turn back to his task, “Yeah, ask Billy about it later.”

You hear him come closer, he leans down, kisses you on the cheek before telling you, “I’ll do that.”

“How was class?” You ask and he shrugs as he is telling you, “Fine.”

He flops down onto the bed, the cleared space next to where the clean folded clothes are as opposed to on top of them, thankfully. He reached out and tugs on the bottom hem of the flannel, “I like you in Billy’s clothes.”

A grin spreads over your face and you joke, “Shocker.” The look on his face reminds you of the one back in the kitchen earlier that you told Billy.

“I know, so predictable, right?” He reaches out, one hand locks on your wrist and the other tugs the shirt you were folding out of your hands, “How about we finish what we started earlier?”

You sigh and toss the shirt aside, one of your knees comes down onto the bed, he rolls onto his back and you climb aboard to straddle him. His hands land on your thighs and as they run up the shirt is moved as well for you to be greeted with the clean pair of underwear you changed into after your post hook up shower with Billy, blue and not unlike the shirt you had on, you were in a matching mood today it seems. “Oooh, fuck.”

A roll of your hips, grinding down, feeling Stu quickly getting hard in his pants your head lolls back the spike of sensation. You give into the moment with Stu, positive that once he has your panties off and sees how much you are leaking, realizing you fucked Billy earlier and he gets to have his sloppy seconds that it will be another fun and hot quickie. After all of that you are promising to yourself that after you ride him that you will finish this damn laundry, even if it kills you.

#Poly!Ghostface #Poly!Ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #BHF writing #Multi-May #BHF asks #🦇 Anon #Enjoyyyy

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seirindono · 6 months

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Not sure if this will spoil anything, but how do all the AU guys earn their living?

I think it's already been mentioned, but let me give you the rundown ( ´ ▿ ` )

Papyrus and Blue occasionally work for the guard, but Black is a full-time "policeman".

Blue does a bit of modeling as a side gig, Classic has some foodtrucks around town. US and SF Papyrus work from home on various (?) stuff. UF Sans and UT Papyrus help out in a garage, etc.

It's mostly odd jobs, as most of them are still skeptical about anything "long term", but it's a good way to spend the time and earn some money!

#ask #anon #TMS situation #the HT bros have yet to show interest in this but they do help out the locals... to some extent #Frisk and the royals support them until they find a job/housing #if you live in Ebott you'll prbly meet them at the most random places #they are multi-tasking #ah #uf papyrus definitely works in a restaurant or smth

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eroticwound · 2 months

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I love your thoughts on The Bear. Particularly the Berzatto siblings. I was wondering if you could talk about Mikey. And possibly his relationship with Richie. Outside of the internet when I talk to peers about the show people are quick to demonize or dislike Mikey. They cite his behavior with Lee and his taking part in ganging up on Carmy with Donna as reasons why. Also, how Richie was so desperate to get away from the beef.

I would love to hear your opinion about how this could be someone’s impression of Mikey. And how you would describe Mikey to someone who maybe isn’t seeing the whole picture? Or just how you would describe Mikey as a person in general.

And do you think his relationship with Richie was very one sided? Do you think it was always Mikey in the lead? I’ve read some fic that truly makes Mikey terrible to Richie.

Hi anon. Thanks for this incredibly thought out ask. Cannot emphasize enough how much I enjoy getting questions like this :)

Michael Berzatto is a complicated guy and he’s a guy we don’t get a lot of screen time with. That’s by design. He’s the character haunting this narrative. Mikey is the Laura Palmer of The Bear (I have that disease where I see everything through the prism of Twin Peaks), and as such we get to know him mostly through people’s grief. Through their imperfect memories. We’re left missing him just as much as any other character. And while I would love a feature length movie showing Mikey’s last days a la Fire Walk with Me, I very much doubt we will get that. So we’re left to figure out this complicated character with scraps.

For these reasons, I do get why people don't understand Mikey. As you mention, they are literally not given anything close to a whole picture. In fact the screen time we have most with him is during Fishes, when he is quite literally at his worst. If people only saw scenes where Carmen was yelling at people in the kitchen or where Richie was being sexist to Syd, I'm sure they'd have a poor opinion of them as well (in fact, being in this fandom after the first season, I can confirm that most of tumblr disliked Richie).

The healthiest we see Michael is in the Ceres flashback in season 1. He’s exactly how everyone describes him: loud, brash, funny. Both Carmy and Richie are just having the best time, completely immersed in the story he's telling. Even Nat’s having a great time, though both brothers stop her from adding raisins, which is Donna’s recipe for the dish they're making (side note, I find it so interesting that Nat is the one trying to follow their mom’s recipe. She's still trying to please Donna, to garner favor, whereas the boys, who Donna relies on in the kitchen and emotionally, feel fine deviating from Donna’s recipe). Even beyond the Ceres flashback, we do get flashes of what makes Mikey great in Fishes: the opening is him checking in on Natalie, he's really sweet and engaging with Carmen in the pantry, and even though Carmy doesn't take Mikey and Richie trying to set him up with Claire well, it's still proof that Mikey cares.

The thing is Mikey is mentally ill, like Donna and like Carmen. He’s dealing with some sort of chemical imbalance (depression or bipolar) on top of the severe parentification he got from Donna. I talk about it at length in my unfinished series delving into the partentification of the Berzatto siblings. As I point out in those posts, Mikey is actually the sibling getting the worst of the parentification, which is a form of abuse where there is a role-reversal between parent and child. Nat can't morph herself easily to accommodate Donna's dysfunction (she un-normalizes it), so she gets Donna's ire instead. Carmen was also parentified, especially when Mikey was out of the house growing up (they have such an age gap), but Mikey was the oldest. He has high EQ and can morph himself to accommodate Donna's dysfunction. It has in fact shaped him into the person he is. Which is someone who is trying to avoid all of the bad: bad outbursts from Donna, bad feelings from his siblings, bad reactions from outsiders to their family dynamic. He's also trying very hard to avoid the bad emotions he's feeling. Michael is looking to avoid all of this through any means necessary, which includes using alcohol and drugs. As I mention in that parentification meta series, using substances is quite literally the only way he's managing his distress.

I want to talk about each point you mention people citing as to why they don't like Michael. But first, I want to preface it by pointing out that Michael has been forced to move back in with Donna. His failed business ventures and poor mental health have forced him back into this scenario that is NOT GOOD FOR HIM. That scene where Cousin Michelle says to Carm that it's not good for him to be in this environment? Well, it's not good for any of the Berzatto siblings. And throughout the episode, you can tell how exhausted Mikey is by it. By having to fulfill his role as Donna's pseudo-partner.

So let's start with Michael and Donna ganging up on Carmen in the kitchen. When Donna and Mikey do this they are functioning as a parental unit. This is the perfect example of Mikey's parentification at work, of Michael acting as Donna's partner. It's what he's been trained to do to maintain the delicate ecosystem of that house. Donna's emotional state is given top priority. Everyone else's emotions fall to the wayside in light of what she's feeling, otherwise you get fallout like her crashing her car into the house. Mikey talks to Nat about this at the start of the episode:

What do you think she's at right now? A 4? A 5? She's not at a 6.

The siblings literally have a rating system for Donna's moods. They're all trying to avoid escalation above all else. Michael in particular. So in that scene with Carm in the kitchen, Mikey is trying to keep things from escalating. This is something Carmen knows too—hell, it's the first thing Carmen asks Mikey to do in Fishes:

Hey Mikey can you come inside and be you for a little bit, I don't know how to deal with these people.

Carmy needs Michael to come fill his role of buffer between guests and their family. Carmy, notably, gets Donna duty—a role I'm sure Mikey filled before Carmen came along. I say this based on Donna calling Carmen "Michael" when he's trying to coax her to the dinner table at the end of the episode. She's implying talking to her like this is what Michael does. When the people you know irl cite this moment, unfortunately this is the rebuttal: this is Mikey's role. Donna needs his emotional support. Otherwise she'd be more abusive towards Nat and Carm. Michael is doing it for the greater good.

As for Lee, that's another great example of soooo much being implied. Lee, along with Cicero, were best friends with their father, and it is heavily implied that Lee and Donna had a fling or two after their dad fucks off (whether Mr. Berzatto is dead or a deadbeat, who’s to say?). When Lee is helping Donna clean shit off the floor, Mikey grabs a beer from the fridge and asks if they are "doing this again." Basically, Lee and Donna have been romantic before. This means Lee would have been around erratically growing up. And it's clear Michael and Lee have a historic antagonism because of this. Lee's first interaction with Michael in the episode has him threatening to "lay [Michael] out." This screams to me that Lee stepped into the man of the house role, and that Mikey and him had altercations that got physically violent. That's why Mikey says at the dinner table, "I can throw forks cuz this is my father's house." That feels very much like something a kid would say to a man who is trying to replace a missing father. And it's especially heated, because it is Michael who has had to consistently step into the man of the house role for Donna and for his siblings! Michael couldn't leave like Lee when Donna and him broke up. Living with Donna and keeping his siblings ok is daily life for Michael.

So all through the episode, Lee is poking a bear (Mikey Bear to be exact). Lee calls him out about telling the same old stories, embarrasses him in front of everyone by revealing he's borrowed money from Cicero and had to move back in with Donna. Lee has been explicitly disrespecting him. And maybe if Mikey was in a better place, he would have been able to roll with it, but as I mentioned before, Mikey is not in a good place. He's depressed, he's been drinking and taking something (pain pills?) to manage the stress he's under. Him throwing forks is not a lucid reaction. Frankly, if people don't also blame Lee for that outburst, then they really weren't paying attention during the episode.

Finally, onto the Richie portion of your question. Richie’s family is something I would *love* to get more canon info about. All we know is that he's not Italian but Polish, his home life wasn’t great, his dad sucked, and Donna allowed him over so often that he’s practically her fourth child.

Richie and Michael grew up together. They're best friends, practically family. It's why Richie is "cousin." Michael's relationship with Richie is his closest relationship. Everyone says Mikey was their best friend, but Mikey's actual best friend was Richie. Period. And there's some complicated jealousy between Carmen and Richie because of what each is to Michael: Carmy's jealous of Richie and Michael's genuine closeness, and Richie is jealous that Mikey has special regard for Carmen as his actual brother. You see this jealousy in the very first episode of the show during that first walk-in fight: Richie was there for Mikey, buried Mikey and took care of Donna, and yet Mikey left the restaurant to Carmen. Left the money in cans for Carmen, so he could fulfill their dream restaurant together. There's honestly some great fic out there that goes into this jealousy. I'll come back to link it if I can find it.

Bottom line is that Richie was the closest person in Mikey's life. They have the same humor, the same life experiences. They had each other's backs. So when you ask if Richie and Michael's relationship was one-sided, I'm going to answer with a resounding no. They're literally besties. It's just by Fishes, Michael has deteriorated. His depression and drug abuse and failures have shrunk his life. Just compare where they're both at: Michael's moved back in with his mom, is single, and is telling the same old stories from their youth. Richie, on the other hand, might have anxiety (the xanax from Dogs <3), but he's in a stable and loving relationship and has a child on the way. That's why Richie asks Cicero for a job—not to get away from Mikey, but to make more money for his expanding family. And yes, he wants to amount to something more than working at a sandwich shop, but hell, so does Mikey. Neither of them want that for the rest of their lives. It's why Michael tried other business ventures. They fail, so he's stuck at The Beef. But it's a weight around his neck bringing him down. He says as much to Carmen when they're in the pantry:

Yeah but the place is no good, Carmy. It's a fucking nightmare. Like trust me I'm doing you a favor.

He even tries to set it on fire for the insurance money! Only Carmen sees the potential.

As for whether it was always Mikey taking the lead, I do think there's some merit to that. Mikey is talked about as more charming than Richie. You see it in Ceres when the edit compares Mikey telling the Bill Murray story to Richie telling the Bill Murray story to his date. Mikey is loud and funny and can "dial a room." Richie can too, but I think Mikey has more finesse. Still, they rely on each other. They back each other up. Michael would hook people with the stories, and Richie would embellish and inject at the right points or reel Mikey in when needed. They supported each other and worked together. I think any fic you might be reading that's demonizing Michael isn't accurate to his character and is actually falling into a pretty common fic trope: if the focus is Character A, then a fic author will cast Character B as the villain in order to serve whatever they're writing, twisting and embellishing the traits of Character B until they’re barely recognizable. Could Mikey be dismissive and hard to contain? Sure, but I don't think that means he didn't love Richie, or was undemonstrative with his affections. Even when Michael was out of it on drugs, they still had a very close relationship—Richie says so. In fact, everything Richie says about Michael supports this. I see zero support in canon for their relationship being one-sided. I'll say it again, they loved each other.

So this is how I would describe Mikey: loud, funny, obnoxious. He could dial a room. He cared deeply for his family, friends, and employees. He suffered parentification and has some sort of chemical imbalance. In fact, because he was charming and loud and funny, people could ignore his deterioration. Even Richie says, "he was Mikey Bear! I thought he'd come out of it," because he was able to come out of it up to that point. But after decades of not treating the problem, the only solution Michael could see was killing himself. He's a complicated character. He's a tragic character. He's the Laura Palmer of The Bear.

#michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #richie jerimovich #the bear #bear meta #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #donna berzatto #natalie berzatto #lee the bear #parentification #ask #anon #ok to reblog #obsessed with this question actually it's like a multi-part question i'd get on a test in school <3

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lipglossanon · 3 months

Text

A dozen roses sent to me I cut myself to watch me bleed

You tell me that I’m so pretty You hold my face and kiss my cheek

But what the fucks that mean to me When beauty only feels skin deep No I will never love myself Like I love you

-A Dozen Roses

#yes I’m still working on dogman!leon x puppy!reader #but this popped into my head and won’t let go 🫣#inspired by real dad!leon anon #but it’s not just a royalty au #it’s a fairy tale au with king leon x princess reader #so dead dove content #all based on fairy tale tropes #and the dark strange kind #not the Disney kind #still debating on if I want it as a long one shot or multi chapters 🤔#lipglossanon #moodboard #fairy tale moodboard

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tosahobi-if · 10 days

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THANK YOU for saying you weren't going making any promises you couldn't keep. So many IF authors make 1000 wips and never finish any of them

i hope you guys realize that most statements i make on the blog only pertain to what i think and i believe for myself. instead of putting other authors down, encourage the wips you like the most! send a nice ask! put fun tags in a reblog! i can't say it enough but audience interaction via asks/tags/comments helps a tooon. i'm so thankful that i have you guys and it makes me really excited and happy to work on tshb but sometimes it feels like posting into the void HAHAHA i don't mean to speak for others but kindness goes a long way jsfsjfs

hell, authors whose careers are built on writing will publish things once every two years, and that's considered fast. everyone goes at their own pace, and i think it's important to acknowledge that.

#anon #i'm noooot a multi-tasker #if i was #i'd be juggling my super secret second wip #and that teen wolf wip #which we will not speak into existence #but yeye #be nice everyone!#i understand where anon was coming from #but i'd really rather not get praise at the expense of others jfsjsj

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yandere-daydreams · 8 months

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Remembered in your red tailed hawk Diluc ramble that you briefly mentioned that kaeya was the reason Diluc was in the situation in the first place

Got me thinking what type of hybrid kaeya would be

Would he also be a bird of prey? I would imagine he would be an albatross of some sort, soaring through the skies, never really finding a place to call home.

Maybe after visiting diluc and his darling, he thinks he wants a bit of that too

as featured in the lovely drawings contributed by @smokey-cat, kaeya is a peacock hybrid!!! i was tempted to make him one of the big cats (a jaguar, in particular) or a bird of prey, but i think a very eye-catching bird that's heavily associated with luxury and wealth but also frequently regarded as 'background dressing' and wrongly deemed purely ornamental is such a god fit for kaeya. i'm also in love with the idea that, because peacocks can't fly very far and aren't migrational, he's stuck in the same big empty house after crepus dies and diluc goes on his little kidnapping spree self-discovery adventure. it really preps him to be ready to steal away diluc's shiny new mate as soon as his feet touch the ground.

#this is such a tangent BUT #i am absolutely in love with kaeya's story specifically in the aftermath of crepus' death #diluc doesn't know who he is if he's not living up to his father's aspirations for him #hence why he goes on a multi-year long revenge quest and keeps pushing away the friends he used to have after he comes back #but kaeya knows who he is and knows where his home is #it's just that without diluc or crepus #he doesn't have the people he used to share that home with anymore #i love his depressed ass so much #anyway that's why he'd corner you as soon as diluc turns his back and tease you about wanting to kiss him sooooo bad #personal #anon ask

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garfieldstim · 1 month

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Stimboard with flowers please?

flowers stimboard for anon

x x x / x x x / x x x

#stim #stimboard #*mine #requests #anon #flowers #nature #multi #yellow #green #pink #spring #food #cupcakes #icing #baking #hands

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iamthecomet · 1 year

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you know, given the fact that everyone agrees dewdrop is a brat, there are way too few fics, maybe even none of him getting gagged. with an underwear, a hand over his mouth to shut him up or even with a proper ball gag.

-📼

You probably didn't mean for this to be a ficlet prompt either. But here we are. It got long. Oops.

Mass is boring today. Worse than normal. Papa's off on some tangent about the circles of hell and Swiss stopped listening twenty minutes ago.

It was about the time that the spade of Dew's tail started slipping up the leg of his pants, over his knee, to rest on his inner thigh. Dew keeps his eyes forward, his hands clasped in his lap. He is back is rod straight, still, stoic.

It's all an act. Swiss can smell him from here. The sharp bite of his arousal. Dew's tail slips a little higher second by second. A slow ascent in an attempt to be discreet.

Swiss bites the inside of his cheek with Dew's tail finally makes contact with his zipper. He's been fattening up for the last ten minutes. Each slide of Dew's tail sending pinpricks of arousal through him. He keeps his eyes straight too. He looks at Papa without really seeing anything.

Dew moves a little closer, pressing his thigh to Swiss', and then the tail is gone. Swiss growls without thinking. He swears he hears a huff of Dew's laugh, but it's so soft, lost under the drone of Papa's sermon.

Dew looks over at him. His mask hides so much, but the jerk of his head toward the back of the room tells Swiss everything he needs to know. He gives a short nod and Dew stands up, slipping past Swiss and a handful of siblings and out of the pew. He walks like he's on a mission, head high, gait relaxed.

Swiss' mouth waters as he watches him go.

He gives it a minute. Partially to not seem too obvious and also to let his cock flag a little. The last thing he needs to do is shove his dick in some poor sibling's face as he squeezes past them.

He slips from the pew and follows in the direction Dew went. He doesn't look anywhere except forward. He doesn't need to accidentally catch Mountain's eye and be caught before he even gets to the good part.

He walks to the back of the chapel, mostly hidden in shadow. He doesn't see Dew anywhere. He rolls his eyes, eying closet doors, and the main door to the chapel. He would have heard that open if Dew had actually left.

He stands at the back of the room for a moment, feeling progressively more like Dew's playing a joke on him. Heat flashes through him, he clenches his fists. He's about to turn and go back to his seat, intent on punishing the little gremlin later, when the door to the relic closet opens just a crack.

A boney hand strikes out and grabs Swiss by the bicep. Dew drags him in, closing the door softly behind him. It's a small room barely big enough for the two of them to move around it. The walls are lined with shelves loaded with some of the more precious artifacts that the church owns. There's a large trunk pressed up against the back wall. It's convenient. This isn't the first time Swiss has made used of it, it won't be the last.

There's a single lightbulb with a pull string above them. It bathes them in dingy light. Dew's mask is already off, abandoned on the floor. Swiss pulls his off too, dropping it next to Dew's and then Dew is grabbing him by the lapels and pulling him in.

There is no warm-up in the kiss. It's open-mouthed and sloppy immediately. Dew licks into his mouth tasting like cigarettes and cinnamon.

"Gotta be quick," Dew breathes when he finally pulls away. He's already unbuttoning his pants as he talks.

Swiss doesn't answer him, just makes quick work of his own pants, shoving them down his thighs just far enough to free his hardening cock.

"Turn around," Swiss orders. Dew gives him one more filthy kiss, his tongue tracing over Swiss' fangs before he listens. Bending over the trunk without complaint.

Swiss slicks his fingers in his own mouth and then reaches between Dew's legs and finds him already slick and worked open.

"You little slut."

Dew looks at him over his shoulder, he grins. "Trying to make the most of our time."

Swiss shoves both fingers in up to the third knuckle. Dew gasps, he shoves his own fist in his mouth, but a noise breaks out anyway. Swiss winces.

"Shut up," Swiss growls through his teeth. The last thing they need is a Sibling barging in here because Dew can't stay quiet when it matters most.

Dew nods, and keeps his promise as Swiss pulls his fingers out and replaces them with the blunt head of his cock, but as soon as Swiss starts to push in Dew starts to lose it. He digs his fangs into his fist so hard Swiss smells blood. But it doesn't stop the way he keens.

Swiss snaps his hips forward, burying himself as deep as he can. Then he stops moving. He fumbles with his tie. Almost tearing it from his body as Dew starts to grind back against him. Slick, and already fluttering around him.

Swiss balls the tie up in his fist and reaches forward. He pries Dew's mouth away from his fist and shoves it past his lips, into his waiting mouth. Dew groans around it.

Swiss picks a brutal pace. Dew's head drops forward, his forehead thumping hard against the trunk. Each thrust drags his cock against the edge of the trunk. He's shaking before long. Drooling all over the wood below him.

Dew shifts his head to look back at Swiss. There are tears at the corners of his eyes already. The black fabric of the tie peaks through his swollen lips. He's wrecked. The sight makes Swiss' knees weak.

"I should gag you more often," Swiss hisses, "it's so much better when I don't have to listen to you whine."

Dew's eyes snap shut, his whole body shudders with the words.

It only takes a few more thrusts before Dew's eyes roll up in his head. He cums, silently, all over the trunk and his own uniform jacket. The sudden hot clench of Dew's ass around him, and the visual of Dew coming apart all over what is definitely a priceless relic, signal the end for Swiss.

He digs his teeth into his cheek until he tastes blood as he spills deep inside of Dew, with a low growl.

When Swiss can think again he reaches forward and pulls his tie from Dew's mouth. He pulls out of Dew and uses the soiled fabric to clean them both up. Then he tosses it at Dew's boneless body. Dew rolls his eyes at him.

Swiss tucks himself back into his pants and grabs his mask off the floor. He settles it back over his head as Dew is pushing himself upright. Dew grabs the discarded tie and uses it to wipe his mess off of the trunk. He uses it to try to scrub the cum off of his jacket.

"You're a mess," Swiss says, picking up Dew's mask and handing it to him.

"Yeah? Who's fault is that?" Dew says with a grin as he settles his mask over his head.

"Yours." Swiss says simply. He reaches forward to straighten out Dew's uniform.

"Bullshit," Dew growls, "I'm not the one who--"

"Satanas," Swiss says, opening the door and shoving Dew out of the closet and back toward the sound of Papa's droning voice. "I should have left you gagged."

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