#Yelp Script

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 bad habit ¡

pairing nicholas chavez x fem¡reader

summary Nicholas grows a habit of biting you, using every given chance to do it. It starts off platonically, the action playful and teasing, until things eventually took a not so platonic turn, leading to a heated moment between the two of you.

contains nsfw content ! making out, biting, hickeys, and uhh interruptions.

a/n heavily inspired by bad habit!!! likes and reblogs are v much appreciated 🫶

word count 2.2k

It started off on set, when you accidentally made a mistake while filming. You chuckled, apologizing to the director, unaware of the man hovering behind you.

Nicholas’ teeth grazed over your shoulder, the sensation like feathers on your skin. The gesture was so subtle, yet so there, sending shivers down your spine. His breath fanned over your exposed flesh, almost as if he was searching for a reaction out of you.

You brushed it off, thinking Nicholas was being playful; did it for the sake of laughs and giggles, but oh boy, were you wrong. After the incident, it only got worse, with him biting you every chance he gets.

Whether it was your arm, legs, neck, shoulders, stomach, everything he laid his touch on, it was getting marked.

He wasn't afraid to do it, growing amused to the flustered reaction he always got in return. You were guilty for taking an odd liking into it, turning into a mess under his touch whenever he’d bite you.

You didn't dare put an end to it, enjoying it as much as he did. It sparked butterflies in your stomach, mind going blank with every slight touch from him.

Sometimes he would linger, merely to see if it gets a reaction out of you, while other times, it was a passing through, type of thing. Everyone on set knew that by now, smiling and nodding whenever Nicholas did it.

It didn't hurt, in fact, it felt good. The reactions you gave were a mere cover up of your attraction towards it. You felt weak for the ones where he’d kiss the spot afterwards, rubbing a comforting thumb to your skin.

You never knew when to expect it. At times, it would be while you guys were filming, he’d do it because he was embarrassed for messing up his line. While sometimes, it would be in private, when it’s only the two of you.

However, it was strictly platonic. Nicholas made himself clear; sure, he’d flirt with you every now and then, but that was only to mess with you, knowing how easily flustered you were.

That swiftly took a turn, though.

You were currently in Nicholas’ van, practicing your lines for the next scene. The boy made himself comfortable on the couch, admiring as you walked back and forth.

Nick’s giggles erupted through your ears, causing you to perk up. You glimpsed over in his direction, puzzlement washing over your face.

“What?” You questioned, inching closer to the brunet.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, glancing up at you now that you were towering over him.

“Oh.” Your lips formed into a pout, grumbling before returning your attention back to the script. “Okay.”

You moved away, yelping when you got yanked back to your position, impossibly closer now. Your gaze shifted to Nicholas’ arms, observing as he sneaked them around your waist, embracing you in a hug.

“What’s gotten into you?” You snickered, feeling his breath fan over the sliver of skin around your stomach.

“You’re so warm.” He whispered, one of his hands trailing down to your hip.

You tensed, sensing a change in his tone. It was extremely rare for Nicholas to get this clingy, unless he was tired. From what you’ve seen thus far, that was totally not the case.

Nicholas nuzzled into your stomach, a satisfied hum escaping his throat. You snorted, reading over your lines while you let him do his thing.

His fingers toyed with the hem of your top, causing you to freeze in your spot. That was… new. You don't recall him ever doing that, not even when you’re both messing around.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, tucking your hair behind your ear.

He stuck to humming, letting his fingers trail further underneath your shirt. You almost gasped at the sensation, lips parting to exhale instead. The script in your hand was long forgotten now, as you tossed it on the couch next to Nicholas.

“Nick.” You whispered, hesitating before your hands found their way around his shoulder.

“You know…” he trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head back, merely to catch sight of you. “You’re really pretty.”

“Thank you.” You replied, teasing visible in your voice. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, his nails digging into your side.

You audibly gasped at the action, the idea of your hips bruising due to Nicholas’ touch driving you over the edge. One of your hands trailed to the back of his neck, the tip of your fingers toying with his hair.

He inched his face closer to your stomach, all that while maintaining eye contact with you. He mouthed at your skin, touch lingering as he waited for a reaction out of you.

Your lips parted with pleasure, jolting when you felt his teeth grazing over your stomach, biting you before you knew it.

There it was, the tingling sensation it striked through your body. You shuddered under his touch, feeling your knees grow weak. A moan escaped your throat when he repeated the action, accidentally tugging his hair in the process.

Nick groaned in response, eyes forcing shut at the sensation. Pleasure fell upon his face, squeezing anything he could lay his hands on.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, littering kisses to your stomach. “Has anyone ever told you how breathtaking you are?”

You moaned at the statement, arching your back into the touch. Nick’s hand trailed down to your ass, giving it a squeeze through the fabric of your shorts.

You forced your eyes shut at the action, unable to control the moan escaping your throat. You were a flustered mess under his touch, wincing whenever he nibbled too hard on your skin.

The thought of getting marked by Nicholas drove you mental, it has your mind hazing up, leaving you wanting more.

“I–” you stammed, hushed words filling the air. “What about filmin’?”

“We have time.” He muttered, pulling you down by your sides.

Your body collided with Nick’s as you fell into his lap. He adjusted your position, making sure you were comfortable in the process. Nicholas groaned in your ear, throwing his head back when you accidently brushed over his crotch.

Your face heated, feeling his hardon through the thin fabric of clothes. You awkwardly hovered over his lap, unaware of your next move.

Fuck, Nicholas was hard, and it was because of you. Your mind went fuzzy all over, head filling with a million questions, yet none at the same time.

Nicholas pushed you down, not hesitating to collide your lips in a kiss. He captured your bottom lip between his teeth, the action seeping tension through the air.

He leisurely pulled back, pulling at your lip with his teeth, nibbling on it before he moved away. Your mouth remained parted, letting your forehead rest against his.

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?” He whispered, stealing a kiss from the corner of your lips. “Fuck, you're so…”

You couldn't control your hips as you grinded down, a hiss erupting through your ears in the process. You felt Nicholas twitch through his pants, the gesture a great impact on him.

He looked out of it. His eyes hazed up, barely able to hold contact with yours as he fluttered them shut.

“You’re so fucking pretty, doll.” He praised, voice muffled as he peppered kisses along your jaw. “I'm obsessed with you, everythin’ about you drives me mental.”

“Nick.” You said through a breath, voice slightly shaky.

An audible gasp escaped your throat as he slipped a hand underneath your shirt, fingers instantly finding your chest. He gave your boob a squeeze, while he traced open mouthed kisses to the other one through the fabric of your shirt.

You leaned your head back, grinding down as a whine muffled its way out of your mouth. Nick was incredible with his mouth, he knew exactly how to please a woman, and how to make her feral in all the right places.

You felt heat release from your body, the room growing hot with every move you committed to. This was all you’ve ever wanted. You wanted to get a taste of Nicholas so bad, so fucking bad it was starting to get a bit concerning.

And with the whole biting thing? Yeah, that was your last straw.

You yelped when his teeth grazed over your nipple, the action causing goosebumps to breakout across your chest. You attempted to pull away from the touch, quickly interrupted by the hand on your back as it brought you closer, if that was even possible.

The distance between you guys was extinct now, the only thing blocking you being the thin layers of clothes.

“I need you…” Nick groaned, nipping at your skin.

He buried his face in your neck, his heavy breaths the only thing seeping through the silent void. His tone was so suggestive, needy, keen and in need of you. How’s one able to resist when someone as desperate as Nicholas exists?

“I’m all yours.” You licked your lips, cupping Nicholas’ face.

You withdrew his face from your neck, breath hitching when you caught sight of how much of a mess he was. In fact, he might’ve been more affected than you were.

You connected your lips in another kiss, tilting your head to get a better angle of his mouth. A satisfied hum erupted through your ears, causing you to smile through the kiss.

Nicholas toyed with the strap of your top, pushing it down your arm, followed with the other one eventually after. The action peaked interest through your chest, causing you to pull back with amusement.

“Here?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, “I’ll be quick.”

He nipped and sucked at your neck, finger tugging down your top, exposing your chest to the air. You shivered, hissing when Nicholas grazed his teeth over the flesh, trailing his mouth all the way down to your breasts.

His mouth salivated at the sight, pausing to admire how perfect your boobs were. His gaze shifted back to you, as you stared at him with a shy smile across your lips.

“I didn't think you could get any perfect.” He pecked your mouth, a smirk forming on his lips.

“You’ve seen nothing.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You applied pressure around the back of his head, pushing him down on your chest. Nicholas accepted with content, gliding his tongue over your now hard nipple.

You nipped at his hair, arching into the touch. It felt amazing, hot spit coating your cold skin. It was absolutely heavenly, no words could describe it.

He kneaded your other boob with his hand, the sensation spiraling you over the edge.

He traced open mouth kisses to your collarbones, sucking on the bony flesh around your shoulder.

“Nick…” you muttered through a gasp, “That will leave a mark.”

“Good.” He exhaled through his mouth, tone cocky. “Let everyone know you’re mine.”

“My god.” You mumbled, voice barely audible.

You pushed him back on the couch, already missing the warmth of his tongue on your body. He chased after your touch, earning a chuckle out of you as your hand covered his mouth.

“Stay.” You ordered, voice seductive.

You teasingly toyed with the hem of your shirt, leisurely tucking it up to reveal the whole of your stomach. The fabric pooled just beneath your chest, creating a thick material.

However, that was long forgotten as you tugged it over your head, getting it off your body. And Nicholas couldn't help but groan as he moved forward, laying his touch wherever his hands landed.

Your fingers found their way around his shirt, delicately unbuttoning it until it revealed his whole chest. Your mouth watered at the sight, removing the shirt with a bit of help from the boy.

Your digits traced over the lines of his abs, gulping when you noticed how muscular he was beneath all the clothes he wore. His eyes followed your hand as it came to a halt around his pants, fingers teasingly fidgeting with the button.

“Get it off of me already.” He hissed, thrusting up into you.

The collision made you gasp, his hardon brushing against your ass. Your fingers dug into his skin, grinding down on him to chase after your pleasure.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed under his breath, mouth gaping with desire.

You clumsily unbuttoned his pants, freezing in your spot when you heard a knock on the door. Your eyes widened in shock, attention shifting back to Nicholas, who was just as shocked as you were.

The crew member called out your name, causing you to perk up. “You’re up in five minutes, make sure you’re ready.”

Right, you guys were on set.

You were swift to get up, throwing your shirt over your head. You stole a glimpse at Nicholas, who hopelessly stared at you, disappointment visible on his face.

You smiled, endeared by how sulky he was, as he looked adorable while doing it. You moved over, ruffling your hair into place before you connected your lips with his.

Although he was upset, he happily returned the gesture, chasing after your lips when you moved away.

“Sorry about that.” Your gaze shifted down to his lap, noticing the hardon in his pants. “I’ll help you out later.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, no longer sulky. “I’ll look forward to that.”

“Mhm, you definitely should.”

[superhoeva]

69ing with simon is always eventful. heated and competitive, especially so when he can tell you're trying to make him come first. he'll let you think you're getting away with it for a short while. let you spit onto his head and jerk him while he lies beneath your figure, grunting loudly whenever you suckle him against your tongue.

it's when his stomach starts to burn with a familiar heat that he flips the script. ignoring your surprised yelp at the way he tugs you and swipes a broad like into your slit. simon anchors you with a strong grip, forcing you off his cock into a weighty sit onto his mouth.

and yes, not a squat, a sit. all your weight pressing you onto his perfectly angled tongue. sucking at you without even thinking about breathing. that doesn't matter right now. he'll breathe after you come all over his face.

the man's even louder now. arms encircling your thighs and squeezing, simon filling his mouth with the taste of you before returning it to your clit with a filthy oozing from his lips. he continues the pattern until his mouth and chin are covered. drenched in you, who's thrashing with hands pitifully gripping whatever part of him you can reach because it's so much. nearly too much, and simon knows it.

he eats you like he's starved. growling and snarling and abusing your clit with heavy, sopping swirls of his tongue, and whatever else he finds will force a surrendering cry from your throat.

simon's going to win this round, and his reward will be that sweet, sweet way you weep his name when he finishes you.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[fear-is-truth]

imagine… toxic exbf!rafe finding out about your tramp stamp — his name, inked in delicate script.

“think you’re done with me?” he rasps, lips grazing the shell of your ear. the cold metal of the range rover’s hood digs into your stomach and your breasts are being squished uncomfortably as rafe presses you down, chest against your back and effectively pinning you. his hand grips the back of your neck, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away — or worse, that you’ll somehow walk out of his life for good.

“just gonna throw it all away like it meant nothing?” the bitterness in his tone stirs up the familiar heat in the pit of your belly, simmering along with rage. you swallow hard, refusing to let him see the effect he still has on you. “i had to, rafe. i can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.” valiantly trying to keep your voice steady even as his grip tightens, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you in place.

a muscle jumps in his jaw, as if you’ve physically slapped him. he leans down, chin resting on your shoulder. “you think i don’t know that? you think i don’t know fucking what i’m doing to myself? to you?” rafe lets out a humourless chuckle, his other hand sliding down your waist, fingers grazing the edge of your crop top that’s ridden up in the struggle. then he freezes, his gaze fixated on something just above your waistband — his name, inked in elegant, looping script across your lower back.

“what the hell…?” his fingertips trace over the tattoo, like he can’t believe it’s real. “when did you get this?”

your cheeks flush hot, teeth biting your lip as you try to turn your head away from him. “it was nothing,” you spit out, “i was drunk. a stupid, drunken mistake, okay?” a brief moment of silence as rafe lets the words sink in. suddenly, he yanks you back against him, the motion making you yelp. firm hands come to rest on your hips, kneading each cheek in slow circles, before he starts to grind against you.

“a mistake?” he repeats, his tone dripping with faux incredulity. you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, even as your body betrays you, reacting to the hard line of him against you.

“funny how your ‘mistakes’ have my name all over them.”

[yvvxs]

Physical Touch...‎ ‎

‎ ‎↪ ft. argenti. arlan. aventurine. blade. boothill. caelus. dan heng & imbibitor lunae. dr ratio. gallagher. gepard. jing yuan. luka. luocha. sampo. sunday. welt.

Argenti brushing your hair, making sure to gently undo any knots found in it. He would help you clean up any dirt from your skin and clothes, making sure you looked even more beautiful than you already were. You were his beloved, and he'd make sure to make you feel like it was so all the time through soft moments just like these.

Being in the infirmary with Arlan, who bandages up any wounds you got. He places soft kisses over small band-aids or bigger scars, making sure to help you feel better. He wouldn't want to let you hurt any longer than you already did. He promises that it'll be all better with him by your side.

Aventurine would hold you close to himself as you both roam the casino. Winning every single game he played, as always. Letting every other patron there know that you were the only one allowed to be so close to the luckiest man in the building. No one would be able to catch his heart just as you have with him as he places a kiss on your forehead, silently reminding you with a smile.

In between missions, Blade would hold you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing soothing patterns into your back. Elio hadn't assigned him to the next thing in the script yet, so he still had time to be with you, to give you some attention before he has to set off for whatever dangers he'd be going through next.

Despite not being able to feel much, Boothill gives you so much love. An arm wrapped around your waist, tight hugs which brings you closer to himself. Whenever he feels like he wants to feel your touch, he just nuzzles his face into you, chuckling gently with a smirk on his face. Knowing you're too good for someone like him.

Caelus clinging onto you while the Crew watches a horror movie together in the Astral Express. He yelps at the smallest thing, holding you close to himself for dear life. Despite going through life-threatening things, he still was a little scaredy-cat underneath all of that, your little raccoon boyfriend would never change, not like you'd want him to.

Laying your head on Dan Heng's shoulder as he types out something on the Data Bank after your last mission. All of you were tired from what you had experienced, but he diligently writes more information for everybody. Also, gently caressing Imbibitor Lunae's horns, placing soft kisses on them as his tail wraps around your hips, silently trying to pull you closer to himself.

Bathing with Dr. Ratio, he thoroughly washes your body, touching you in places only he can. The bubbly sensation relaxing the two of you as you clean up together. Enjoying the soft, alone time, just for the both of you. With no other people to pry or disturb either of you.

Gallagher guiding your hands as you two work at the Dreamjolt Hostelry. Making sure to help you find the correct ingredients to serve to your different customers. Handing you something he was previously using, your fingers grazing over one another's and feeling the small and short touches that you two share every now and then.

Sitting in the Silvermane Restricted Zone with Gepard, as he lets you bandage his wounds he got from the battles with the Fragmentum. He wasn't fully invincible, and him getting hurt would be inevitable. He knew that his job was dangerous, but letting you at least know he was okay, and that you can make him feel better would make himself feel better.

Jing Yuan letting you sit on his lap as he works. His work was usually boring most of the time, but when you were there with him, it made it so much more interesting. He nuzzled into your neck every now and then, smirking against your skin as he inhaled your scent. He could never get sick of these times with you, and no one could take you away from him, not even the Master Diviner.

Cuddles with Luka after he wins his last match at the Fight Club. It's his little reward from you that he always looked forward to. Even if he did lose, which we all know would barely actually happen, he would always be spoiled like this. He would always love having your warmth and comfort after hard work put into his fights.

Luocha's fingers intertwined with yours as the two of you go through the Luofu together. He wasn't anyone else other than your lover when he was with you, and he'd make sure you know it. Kisses on the back of your hand or playing with your hair when the two of you were alone, or even when there was a man secretly watching from behind the scenes.

Holding Sampo's face in your hands as you gently scold him for conning another person. He just wanted to get money for you, but that didn't mean he had to get it through means like this. You remind him not to do that again, though we both know that he would do it again, all for you.

You were the only one who was loved enough by Sunday to be able to touch his soft wings, other than his own sister. He would let you clean them up, touch them up and even preen any loose feathers that stuck out from the rest. Normally, he'd do it himself, but if it made you happy to help, then he'd let you do what you want.

Laying down with Welt on the couch in the Astral Express' Parlor Car, cuddling with him after a long day of missions at your current stop. He would brush his fingers through your hair. Your head on his chest, his other arm wrapped loosely around your body. Resting for the next day that would be full of exciting adventures for the two of you.

Masterlist || Do not repost nor feed to AI. Reblogs & Comments are much appreciated.

[sare-nim]

“I will get you pregnant”

Reader×Pure Vanilla Cookie/Shadow Milk Cookie

When you stated that to poor Pure Vanilla Cookie who was taking care of your small wounds. After you returned from a small adventure in the outskirts of Pure vanilla kingdom. He freezes in response, his closed eyes opening in a snap of a finger.

His cheeks earned a deep pink hue covering his face. “H-huh?” He simply let out his face turning into an impossible shade of red as the statement filled his mind. He raised his tan hands cupping his cheeks, his eyes looking into yours.

“I-I can't get pregnant my bluebird.” He felt as if steam was coming out of his ears.

You couldn't help but smile softly at the response you got. You decided to push the other cookie further.

“Oh? Don't worry I will find a way…” you simply stated ignoring how you can't have a child. You will find a way to make the cookie let out another gasp and turn redder.

“Blue bird!” He yelped in response, his staff eye narrowed as it looked at you in almost annoyance. It was always like this when you two got very affectionate.

Pure Vanilla Cookie will get very shy and shocked while his staff will get annoyed and uncomfortable at the thought of witnessing what you stated. You and Pure Vanilla Cookie end this with just some kisses and cuddling but he won't ever forget this. It will hit him like a flashback at random moments and he always turns red in response to that memory.

Shadow milk cookies would freeze too in response to the sudden statement. Then a mischievous smile appeared on his face while he leaned closer. He was just performing a normal show now, not so normal.

“Oh my cookie! How dare you go off script!” He stated his voice coy while his mismatched eyes narrowed down in amusement and slight hunger.

The eyes on his inky stands follow suit narrowing their gaze as their pupils turn into hearts exposing how much the comment affected him.

“Off script? How about we give this audience a true show?” You pushed while knowing you're going to be drowned in his affection while he watches you suffocate.

He lets out a laugh an one that comes from his chest. It's like a wolf's howl high-pitched threatening to hear so fitting for his nature. his smile not leaving his face as he slides through the air like a snake coming closer to you just to grab your waist with his blue hands, his long black and blue nails digging into your dough slightly.

“My marionette, only your…owner should see you in that state.” He responded, his voice dropping into a cold tone as he continued the sentence.

You flinch at the switch up you still haven't gotten used to the easily changed mood of your dear.

That only made you even more adorable. An expressive little marionette turning into an emotionless one is his hobby after all. You're his favorite marionette too…your process will be the most beautiful one he will witness.

Shadow milk cookie is amused by your desire for him and flattered even if he tries to hide. He will spend hours with you afterwards doing stuff to you that makes you melt. While happily enjoying your reactions. It makes him think of vile ideas on how to turn you into his perfect marionette.

…idk why I went this dark with the shadow milk cookie part…Pure Vanilla Cookie is giving pookie anyways dividers made by me.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Absolutely loving your writing!!!! 🫶🏼

Would it be possible to write something with Mattheo and he’s absolutely head over heels for another Slytherin in his friend group and she’s so head strong- will fuck up anyone who crosses her, has a bit of a temper and a mouth on her.

She ends up getting in fight with a bully and Mattheo has to pull her out of it and just ends up fucking the attitude out of her 😉😉

Maybe went slightly off script but I hope this works!

Temper

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, cussing, a little physical violence.

18+ Minors DNI!

You had always been known for having a temper, everyone knew this and most people left you alone, not wanting to get on your bad side. But that didn’t seem to stop Danielle, a Ravenclaw in the same year as you who’s always acting like a bitch to you everytime she sees you. You two have gotten into many arguments, nearly getting physical with her when you’re pulled away but one of your friends, trying to tell you she isn’t worth it.

But this time, you were alone in the courtyard, working on some homework when she came up and started talking shit again. You knew what your friends were going to say, so you held back on physically hurting her, just insulting her back. That was until she brought your family into it, and suddenly you punched her in the face. She cussed at you, holding her nose before trying to punch you back, but you dodged and punched her again. Students were gathering around at this point, egging you guys on. You landed a kick on her before you were suddenly pulled away, arms around your waist lifting you up and carrying you out of the crowd and into the castle.

“Hey! Put me down!” You yelled at the person, kicking your legs against theirs.

“Stop that.” You heard Mattheo’s voice behind you and stopped kicking.

“Put me down, Mattheo!” You yelled, pulling at his arms,

“No.” He said and adjusted you to throw you over his shoulder instead.

“I hate you! Put me down!” You started pounding your fists on his back.

“Not very convincing, princess.” He chuckled.

You groaned and pouted, huffing in annoyance.

“Got some attitude today, huh, angel?”

“Shut up.”

He brought you into an empty classroom before setting you down.

“Why the fuck did you stop me?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You don’t need to fight.” Mattheo crossed his arms as well.

“That’s hypocritical of you.”

“I don’t want you hurt.”

“Still hypocritical.”

You could see his jaw clench before he grabbed your arms and turned you around, making you bend over a desk.

“What are you doing?” You yelled.

“Gonna fuck the attitude out of you.” He said as he bunched up your skirt, pulling your panties down.

“Mattheo-”

He interrupted you with a swat to your ass, causing you to yelp.

“Keep going. Keep up the attitude, princess.” His voice was laced with annoyance.

“I don’t have an atti-”

Another spank to your ass.

“Wanna keep going?” He asked, rubbing your ass where he spanked.

You groaned and gripped at the edge of the desk to contain your anger.

“That’s what I thought.” He said before slipping his fingers inside you. “Oh, princess, you’re soaked. You must like this more than you’re letting on.”

You bit back a moan, not wanting to give him any satisfaction from this.

He kept finger fucking you while using his free hand to undo his pants. He pulled his fingers out and used your arousal on his fingers to spread down his cock before stepping closer between your legs, putting his hands on the desk beside you to cage you in. His cock was sliding between your folds, teasing your clit and entrance.

“Beg for my cock, angel. I’ll make you feel so good.” He said as he leaned down to talk in your ear.

“I’m not begging.” You huffed.

He grabbed your hair with one hand, tugging your head back. “I won’t fuck you then. I’ll leave you here, all soaked and needy.”

You groaned again, debating on if you should beg or not. You didn’t wanna give him that satisfaction, but fuck were you desperate now.

“What are you gonna do, baby? Beg for me to fuck you or be stubborn and let me leave?” His cock was nudging at your entrance, just teasing you.

“Please fuck me, Mattheo.” You whined.

“Probably as good as I’m gonna get right now, huh?” He teased before pushing in.

You moaned, gripping at the table harder as he stretched you out.

“Fuck, princess, so fucking tight.” He moaned before starting to thrust. “You know I care about. It’s why I don’t want you getting into a fight and getting hurt.” He said, still gripping your hair. “Just need to get rid of this attitude. Maybe you won’t wanna fight anymore.” His other hand was gripping your hip tightly. “Maybe you’ll just want my cock. Could fuck you every time you’re angry, yeah? Would you like that?”

His cock was hitting so deep in you, making you moan loudly, barely registering his words, but you nodded anyways. “Yes, love that.”

“Fuck. I’ll get rid of your attitude all the time, angel. Fuck you so good, you can’t think of anything but my dick. Let me take care of everything else for you.” He was just rambling at this point, your pussy felt too good wrapped around him.

You just nodded along, crying out at his thrusts.

“No more attitude? Got you too fucked out on my cock already?” He chuckled. “You feel fucking perfect, princess. Fuck.” He let go of your hair to rub at your clit instead. “Gonna need you to cum for me. Wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

It took a few more thrusts and you were clenching his cock as you cried out his name, body shaking below him as he praised you. He rode out your orgasm before he came, filling you with his cum. He pulled out and lifted your panties back up.

“Want you to keep that in for me, yeah?” He said as he pulled you to stand back up and face him. He gave you a sweet kiss before you could answer, cupping your face gently.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@ireallyneed-somesleep @soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @i-like-pandas5

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[omnitrash]

Self Aware Dmc! - Royalguard!!

…I couldn’t help myself, I’m making a mini one shot. I apologize in advance for the shitty pov and constant change of it during this other incredibly self indulgent drabble but I hope y’all still enjoy nonetheless.

Also the Nero bias is real…sue me…

(And if you had a similar experience fighting Dante, then welcome to the club…that fight was lowkey terrifying…or maybe I’m just bad at the game…who knows)

‘_’ -thoughts

“_” -dialogue

—————————————————————————

Nero really liked exploring with you. He liked being with you in general, but what he enjoyed the most -aside from your constant swooning over him despite how embarrassing it was- was receiving your praise and encouragement during any fights. He was happy you enjoyed fighting with him so much. Of course, your combos could use a bit of work but considering you stayed with automatic -and how happy you were at how well you were doing with it- he couldn’t really bring himself to mind.

As you both made your way through the Order of the Sword’s headquarters and made it to the room of ‘hIs hOLYnEsS’ -you’re distaste for the old geezer was obvious but he shared the sentiment- you were stopped by a cutscene. Feeling your surprise at Dante’s appearance, said Devil hunter leaning against a pillar as he briefly glanced at your direction before addressing him.

“What took you so long, sweetheart?” He smirked, tweaking the dialogue so the endearing term could be added for you. It pissed Nero off how casually he did so, and yet he couldn’t. Not as easily anyway. Whatever, he needed to stay in script, and he knew that you were just as desperate to save Kyrie as he was.

“You…what are you doing here?” The former holy knight sneered before clicking his tongue and trying to walk past the cocky devil hunter. “Forget it, I don’t have time for this”

However he was stopped by Dante when he placed a hand on his shoulder. “And neither do I”

“Huh? Wait, what the hell?…what the hell is this?” Nero heard you say, catching a glance at you as he saw you blink back before he tried to attack the red clanned man twice. Glaring at him as his fist was caught. “So I‘ll cut to the chase…”

“oH SHIT-!” They both heard you yelp as Nero got thrown back towards the wall, listening to the wince you let out at the impact. “…you…you good Nero?? Oh my fucking god, Dante, what the fuck-“

‘Oh I’m peachy, angel…I really wanna beat this guy to the ground though’ Nero thought as he recovered and confronted Dante about the Yamato.

“Kid? Well…if that’s how you see me, then I think you’ll blush a pretty pink when I kick your ass!” He tried to attack, watching as the wall crumbled from the katana’s swing before spotting Dante as he sat on top of the bed frame.

“Who is this diva?? Oh my fucking god, what the hell is going on?” They heard you let out a laugh at that, Dante in turn, being extra dramatic just to make you laugh more. They loved to hear your voice. But your laughter was even sweeter.

“Ah, helpful hint…take a hint from your elders.” ‘Sorry sweetheart…but you might hate me for this’ Dante thought as he jumped down to face Nero, ending the cutscene and getting ready to attack.

“HUH?! I HAVE TO FIGHT DANTE- OH SHIT, FUCK! MOVE MOVE MOVE!” That was the first thing Nero heard you say before he finally registered your influence and control over him and was suddenly forced to dodge Dante’s attack. An undignified squawk involuntarily leaving his lips as he did before glaring at Dante for laughing at him.

The next three to five minutes of the fight were eventful, hearing you curse, panic, choke on your breath and wheeze as you did your best to guide him to dodge, weave, and combo his way to victory. By the time the two of you only had a quarter left in their health bar, you were getting more panicky than normal. They could only guess you were determined to finish this in your first try…you were cutting it a bit too close though.

So Dante figured he’d break your pretty little heart gently by finishing the fight with a classic. ‘Sorry, sweetheart’ “Royal guard!!”

“NO YOU DON’T-!!” You yelped almost immediately, using Nero to grab him with Buster and quickly bashing Dante to the ground repeatedly and ultimately winning the fight. Hearing you breath shakily before laughing in disbelief.

“I…I did it..?? Holy shit, I did it, I beat Dante first try, oh my god-“ You breathed out before letting yourself catch your breath.

…y’know? They don’t think they’ve ever heard you react so quickly like that until now…and so strongly too. They felt your dread in their bones the moment Dante changed style just now…or tried to. Before he got his ass handed to him…but he couldn’t be too mad. That was hilarious.

What wasn’t hilarious, however, was the way Nero was grinning down at him after beating him. He knew it was part of the script but damn it, that brat had no business looking that smug. But what really shocked him, was the way that he altered the script for the first time so that he could speak freely while you heard the original lines.

As he passed him by after keeping Yamato, he muttered “I win, old man…’guess angel has a favorite, don’t they?”

…now normally, Dante was a chill and easy going guy. But in that moment, as Nero walked away, he couldn’t help be glad that he’d get captured by the Savior in the upcoming mission.

“…damn brat”

[misctf]

Hey there. I was wondering if you could help me. I'm struggling to find a job, for when I finish college in a couple of months. Unfortunately, there's slim pickings for us theater majors out there, and I've had no luck landing anything. Do you think you would know a job that I could get?

You never thought you’d be in this situation. Sure, your friends and family looked upon you skeptically when you said you were getting a degree in theater. Always questioning you about your career plans and what you planned to do with that. But you persisted- spending hours learning about the evolution of theater from different cultures and creating complex scripts. You truly loved it- your passion palpable. But graduation day was approaching.

“I’d like to do something in my field.” You say, while your college’s career counselor looked over your resume on his tablet, “I’ve written a few plays and...”

“I can see that.” His words carried a dismissive tone and his eyes are glued to his tablet, “But there aren’t any opportunities for you based on your specific interests and timeframe.”

“But that’s not fair.” You complain, “I came here because you guarantee 100% of your graduates leave with a job in their chosen field.” You felt frustrated- you paid a lot of money to get this degree with the belief that you’d be employed.

“We do indeed.” He says, continuing to focus on his tablet, “We work closely with our students to get them to where they need to be.”

“So then why...”

“But sometimes it takes time.” He continues, swiping aggressively on his touchscreen, “But with all struggling students, we can match them into a program that has better career prospects.”

“But I don’t...”

“Take for example Exercise Science.” He says, “This year, 100% of their students will be going into a career in their field.”

“How does that have anything to do with...”

“Theater didn’t work out for you, did it?” He says, handing you the tablet, “But I think we can start fresh.”

You look down at the tablet and raise an eyebrow. Was this some kind of joke? It was a schedule for a freshman. Typed in bold letters at the top was “exercise science major” with classes already planned for the fall semester.

“What kind of game are you...?” You look up at him.

“What’s wrong?” The career counselor asks, “I thought this is what you’d want?”

“Well, it’s just that...” You look back down at the tablet, but it’s your hands that catch your attention. Are they bigger? Meatier? You shake your head, “It’s just that...”

“Are you having second thoughts about your major?” He asks.

“Yes... no... I mean, I don’t...” Your shirt is starting to feel a bit tighter around your chest, “It’s just that...”

“It’s not uncommon for new students to have doubts. But we want to ensure that you’re happy with your choice.”

“New students? But I’m...” Your sleeves feel tighter around your bulging biceps and triceps, “Wait... since when...?” You run your hand along the veiny muscles of your thick arms.

“This is why we have these meetings prior to you matriculating.” He continues.

“Ma-matricu...?” That word hurts your brain and your eyes narrow.

“It means before you formally enroll.” He says.

“Ah thanks bro.” You chuckle, “But wait... I’m already a student...” You shake your head again, “Seriously, what the fuck?”

“No need to get vulgar.” He says, “It’ll be okay.”

You start to breath faster and you quickly open the camera app on the tablet. The face looking back at you is definitely not your own. It’s younger, more chiseled, and your eyes are dull. But before you can say anything, a loud tearing sound fills the room. You yelp when your shirt falls in tatters around you, leaving your chiseled physique on full display. You whimper as you run your hands along your cobblestone abs and firm, hairless pecs.

“This isn’t... how, bro?” You look up at the career counselor.

“I said not to worry.”

And suddenly you feel a tingling in your brain. You realize your memories are being altered and changed as the last four years of your life are removed. Time spent in class, writing screenplays, and hanging out with your theater friends become hazy. Your time studying Anton Chekhov and Lynn Nottage vanish from your mind. Even personal details start to shift. You’re no longer a 22 year old college senior about to graduate with a theater degree. No, you’re an 18 year old high school senior about to enter college. A single tear rolls down your chiseled face as you realize your passion for theater has been replaced for a dedication to the gym.

“Are you okay?”

Something feels terribly wrong. And as you look down at your toned abs and meaty pecs, there’s a voice yelling deep from within you that this isn’t you. But no matter how desperately you try to remember being anything other than this meaty, smelly jock-bro, there’s nothing else. A dumb smile etches itself on your face.

“Nah man, I’m good.” You chuckle, “Sorry ‘bout the shirt though. These muscles can’t be contained.”

The career counselor smiles, “No worries. Well, we look forward to you starting in the fall. I’m hopeful that this time will yield you great success.”

“Yeah man, sure.” You grin.

And off you went- likely to the gym. Excited for the future and a career you were truly passionate about.

[devotionlest]

Helloo!! Hope you're doing fine!! Can I request some fluff drabble of John Doe x Survivor Reader plz??,,,, there ain't many content of him 💔

John Doe actually likes the reader and wants to stay closer to them?👉👈

📟 john doe x survivor reader 💻

your chest heaved slowly, body completely drained of adrenaline as your rush had worn off. now, you struggled to stay standing, knees wobbling with any effort you gave. sweat dripped down your neck despite feeling cold, keeping your hands plastered against the yellow walls of the ball pit to stay upright.

the yelp of a fellow teammate followed by a deafening demonic roar caught your immediate attention, taking that as your cue to get back on your feet.

you sprint down the ramp, cutting around the corner to be met with a very slaughterous john doe and poor elliot hanging on by a thread. it wasn't long before your fists clenched by your sides, feet sliding across the floor as you pounced between the two and took the hit instead.

elliot was quickly shoved out of the path of the attack, not scurrying away without knowing you were able to handle the rest. you gave him a knowing wink, before being knocked onto your stomach by the brute.

"i owe you a bunch, dude!" elliot waved before rushing off to take care of the rest of the team, not before throwing you a fresh slice to pick you up.

a pained groan left your throat as you attempted to turn yourself over, grab the pizza, and prepare to face the worst. your arms weakly pushed off the ground, teeth gritting against each other. throwing yourself onto your side, only to be met with- a very intrusive and dubiously curious john doe..?

instinctively, you reached your arm over your head to block any possible hits, eyes squeezing shut as you were still expecting to be torn apart in that very moment..but nothing came.

slowly, you opened your eyes, lashes fluttering in confusion as the menacingly large creature above you seemed to just be admiring your reactions. it was almost cute, the way his head tilted slightly as if confused as to why you're being so defensive, as if he didn't just try to brutally rip apart the legs from the torso of your friend only a minute ago.

despite the unexpectedly wholesome twist of events, you couldn't help but feel distinctively afraid. part of you still wanted to start swinging, to take advantage of this sudden vulnerability and dash away while he was still dazed. it seems he had caught on, taking a step back from hovering over your trembling body.

he watched intently as you sat up, grinning with your own curiosity. "how.. fascinating." you trailed off, the arm that was previously shielding your head slowly coming down to rest on your knee. he let out a soft, grumbled noise in reaction. it seemed almost as if this were a peace offering.

"what's gotten into you?" your eyes narrowed, bringing your hand to scratch at your chin. another soft growl, that could almost be mistaken as a hum.

silence fell over, except for the usual ringing and constant chimes of computer popups and screeches. it was like an unspoken staring content, except neither of the participants could find the eyes of the other.

attempting to break the silence, you slowly reached your hand out with no initial purpose or plan, but to touch. it was a dumb thing to do, to get so attached to the very thing you were forced to fear. you wonder if he felt the same.

your finger tips grazed faintly across his cheek, earning a disgruntled groan in response. quickly, you retracted your hand, taking that as a sign that he wasn't looking to be touched.

his attitude dissipated just as quickly as it came, the usual lanky smile that he forced across his face somehow widened further as he leaned in closer.

you swore you could hear a purr. almost as if there was still the slightest of sentience beneath this monstrous exterior.

what a peculiar thing.

post script: sorry for the quick ending :( also i didn't spellcheck because i'm always half asleep writing these omg i should lock in. meeop kitty doe maoowww

[sashiavi]

✧˚·.SashiAvi's Kinktober Day Five.·˚✧

#5|Stuck/Stuckage|#5

Alex x Reader - Word Count - 3.3k

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Now. How exactly did you end up here? – Stuck half-in the cubed lockbox attached to the bottom of the bath house lockers, the metal snug around your shoulders in your attempt to reach, your knees bent into a crawl and aching in protest as they press against the cold tile floor of the locker room.

Well. It starts with one of your regular sessions with Alex at the bathhouse, the man taking up the impromptu role of a personal trainer, guiding you through the wonders of working out.

Farmwork was a tricky business, it made sense to build up your body for your own sake, avoiding any long lingering aches and pains. All it took was your own questioning about the weight set in his room before the man was dragging you up to the gym residing in the facility. 

He prided himself on his physicality - That mindset bordering on toxic positivity - Rise and grind.. Or something. Truthfully the way he managed to slurp down a whole raw egg was a sight to see, and usually one you cared not to view. But his passion was endearing, cute even, a sparkle twinkling in his eye at the premise of having a buddy to work out with. You weren’t entirely sure of how exactly you felt about the man.

Was he cute? Handsome? Charming? Just how much did you like him.. What kind of like even was it? In another world, he seemed like the stereotypical jock type. Uncaring and maybe even cruel. Giving no attention to anyone outside of his own circle. 

But that wasn't him at all, was it? Considerate and willing to help, gentle despite the thick muscles adorned on his body.

You arrived together as you usually did, splitting up at the door before you entered into the designated locker rooms, changing clothes, prepping yourself all ready to meet up in the middle on the other side, like clockwork. Except there's no squeak of your gym shoes against the tile, a lack of kinetic vibrance that Alex was rather quick to notice.

You weren't there.

Instead, he hears a yelp and a swear of profanity, breaking his concentration from the flex of his muscles in the mirror, your voice calling from the other side of the wall. He hears you groan, muffled and echoed, bouncing around, grating like metal. Cogs work in his brain, churning and turning with curiosity. He shouldn't.. Should he? Alex doesn't think for much longer before he makes way for the ladies' locker room, easily entering through the cut-out entrance. Something right in the very back of his mind chirps at him, about decency and maybe the implications of a man waltzing into a private space like this- But, call him concerned.

You hear Alex’s footsteps, a little squeaky, the grip on the bottom of his shoes catching on to the slick tile with every push of his feet. You wiggle and squirm, cursing the manufacturers of the locker, fighting the stinging scream of your shoulders at your attempt to pull yourself out. You did not, in fact, fit in the square hole. 

Yoba, you were embarrassed, trapped within the confines of the cubic space, face down ass up with nowhere to run, as if you were stuck in some kind of cheap porn script written by some lazy author. 

God, at least you were decent, gym shorts saving your dignity. You never meant to get stuck like this, obviously- But you couldn't help your water bottle taking a tumble to the floor and choosing to roll into one of the open lock boxes, you had to save the poor thing yourself. You just didn't expect the damned box to have so much depth to it, didn’t think you’d trap yourself inside, had at least a little faith that your limbs would squeeze and cooperate to get yourself free easy-peasy. You supposed the spirits were displeased today. Maybe even finding amusement at your pitiful predicament.

“Uhhh..” Alex’s voice drawls in an awkward, questioning hum, muffled through the rusted metal walls of the lockbox. You can imagine the look on his face, head quirked with a scrunch to his brow, those deep green eyes squinting in confusion. “What.. Are you doing?”

“Alex-!” You squirm, hissing at the ache in your joints, the hearty creak in your bones at your attempts to wiggle free. You must look like a fool. “Can you..- Can you help me?” You ask, a little timid in your tone, feeling your upper body starting to get clammy, hyperaware at just how tight the space really was.

Alex wasn't fairing much better.

His gaze locked on your rear, watching the cut legs of your cloth gym shorts ride up your thighs with all of that squirming, legs spread wide apart while you rested on your knees, back arched all the way down for your torso to fit into the small space. Your feet rest on your ankles, chunky sneakers with socks pulled up your calves, framing them with a subtle squish by the sock elastic, looking cute and sporty- If he looked hard enough, he's sure he can see the outline of lace hugging the supple swell of the mound of your-

“Alex.” You call out desperately, snapping the brunette out of his thoughts. “Please.” You’re begging on your hands and knees here – Literally.

“Right-! Right yeah..” He shuffles over, gulping a thick swallow of saliva that dared to pool up under his tongue, hands open and moving awkwardly, hovering over your form here, there and everywhere. Does he grab your hips? The curve of your waist? Press his warm and clammy palms into the thick of your thighs and drag you by your legs? “How..?” He feels stupid for asking.

“I don’t know, just.. Grab me?” You were short with him, frustrations bubbled up by nothing but your own predicament and the fact that you had managed to get yourself stuck like that.

Alex rests a hand on both of your hips, warm against your chilled bare hip bone, shirt risen up, hidden skin exposed to the cool, damp locker room air thanks to your squirming. His fingers were long, easily wrapping around and digging into the tender spot of your pelvis, giving a tender squeeze into it. Your body tenses up with a surprised jolt, a squeak chirped off of your lips and a scold right on the edge of your tongue.

You can only imagine the position, and Alex was lucky enough to see it; Crouched between your spread legs with an eye full of your behind, hands on your hips in such a compromising position, flooding his brain full of dirty, dirty ideas. There's a strain in his pants, the telltale pulse of blood gushing up into the plum-pink tip of his cock, pressing uncomfortably on the tight seam of his shorts. He feels the thick vein on his undershaft throb, raring to go with just a little touch to your body. 

“Do I just, like.. Pull?” Alex smacks his lips, trying to be useful, looking at the wall of the locker, trying to find a way out.

“I guess?” You shimmy again, squirmy in his hold, making his fingers twitch with the hot urge to hold you down and still. The more you shift the harder it is to think straight, watching and feeling your body move under him, at the mercy of him. He was in control right now. In control of you. 

“Okay..” He starts with a gentle tug, feeling out the tightness of your situation, trying to gently ease you from the confines of the space. He finds himself leaning over your body in some sort of attempt at getting the best grip on you, subsequently pressing his groin right into your ass. The thick press of his boner kissing a grind on your clothed cunt, urging up his own creak of a groan.

“Alex.. are you-?” Your eyes widen in the darkness, thighs tensing in a pitiful attempt to close and snap shut. You can't deny the heat of the situation, feeling awfully exposed and on display, not having a say in where his eyes land, where those hands touch, all dark and muffled inside the locker. You can’t stop the squeak of a noise you make, overwhelmed at the premise of Alex being on top of you-

Poor Alex. He honestly panics, tugging at you with a newfound gusto in an attempt to distract you, to free you. But he immediately regrets it, hearing you squeak and squeal, telling him to “wait wait wait-” huffing at the sting of metal uncooperative with your body. His hands feel like they’ve burnt you, seared into your skin- not to mention his little friend down there, saying a cheeky peek-a-boo against your supple, clothed folds.

The brunette feels a spike of adrenaline, a shock at the idea of actually causing some sort of hurt towards you, his hands slipping with his grip. 

It's honestly almost comical.

Feeling Alex's fingers hook into your waistband as he fumbles, yanking down your shorts in an easy motion, fully exposing everything you had to offer up hugged behind your half-off panties. The thin fabric of your underwear was the only thing keeping up any ounce of dignity you had left. You thought it couldn't get any worse? Well it has now.  

“Fuck- Shit sorry-” Alex cuts off with a sigh, seeing your shorts pool at the bend of your spread knees, your panties half off of your ass, showing off a peak of your goods, that darker line running down between your cheeks. He swallows again, his hand daring to find itself on your ass cheek, fingers spread and palm flat, shamelessly squishing in an inappropriate grope.

“A..Alex-” You warn, as if you weren't sinking your teeth into your tender bottom lip. He breathes your name back, veiny hands soothing and squishing, exploring over the expanse of your ass, down, down until he hits the drooled-up wet fabric poorly covering your pussy.

You should kick him- Shout and squirm and knock him off of his feet but- Yoba, his touch burned hot, coursing a warm pulse throbbing on the bud of your clit. “P..Please..” What were you begging for? God knows. But Alex snatches up what you put down for him.

He wastes no time, pulling down the elastic of your panties, letting them fall down your thighs, fabric stretching with the spread, nestling nice and pretty with your dangling shorts. You moan out a soft hum, eyes rolling back in the darkness, brain working in overdrive trying to paint the pretty picture. Arched beautifully for him, legs spread so wide, rendered useless in this position, right for him to hold on to, use as some kind of leverage for- Fuck.

You hear a hot spit of his lips and feel a fat glob of saliva land on your folds.

The brunette suckles on his own fingers, coating them up in a thick sheen over saliva, tongue swirling around his own digits at the sight of your bare and supple cunt. He had to get in you, needed it. Needed to feel the velvety wrap of your cunt on- Yoba, anything of his. 

He pops his fingers out with a vulgar wet noise, raking them through your drippy pussy lips, only adding to the dribbly wetness between your legs. Another spatter of saliva, thick, spitty and bubbly white, sliding down through your folds like a sweet teardrop. He breathes your name again, head cotton stuffed, barely asking you for permission before he was easily slipping in two of his fingers, knuckle deep right into the doughy swell of your hole.

“Fuck..” He’s a man of many words, clearly. Your slick pools against his knuckles, already forming a thick ring of cream around his fingers. He’s slow at first, marvelling at the way your pussy suckles him in, how warm and supple you were on his digits, so fucking soft against the rough calloused paw of his hand. In and out. In. And. Out. Carefully pushing two fingers into your cunt hole, twisting his wrist to dive them in, soft and slow with a thick curl at the end of his push.

You seem to gasp every time. Soft little noises sucked in and pushed out with each tender curl of his fingers. He can't help but watch in awe, jaw slack and lips parted, sun-kissed face burning into a blush of red. He speeds up, eyes widening at the newfound squelch against his knuckles, echoing around the tiled room.

“A-Alex.. Just- Hahh.. Just fuck me! I need it- please?” Yoba, you don’t know why this was driving you so crazy, never before having the thought cross over your mind- Feeling like some helpless free-use toy. But you were thinking with your gut, the dumb thing connected to the throb of your clit, influencing your sense deprived brain, craving more, more touch more of him. More of Alex.

“Fuck- Okay. okayokay- S’okay m’ gonna fuck you…- gonna fuck you now-” He all but babbled, nervous and fast in tone, completely ignoring the previous pressing issue of getting you out. Now all in favour of drilling himself in.

His cock is quickly freed. Tip dark and angry with arousal, leaking out little pearls of pearlescent precum, crying out for the sweet wrap of your pussy. He jerks himself off, wetting his length with your juices, letting the thick vein throb against the delicious sticky kiss of your cunt. He finds himself tapping his cock over the slick-wet folds of your achy cunt, slap, slap, slap, sliding through your wetness while he jerks himself.

He sighs out in awe at the sweet jumps you give, each flinch and feeble attempt to push back on him. You weren't faring any better in there. Imagination running rampant, stuck in a twisted sensory deprivation chamber, dark and warm, blind to Alex’s actions, giving him surprised jolts and jumps with every touch.

He lets the dark pink mushroom tip of his dick push in, just the tip- Juust the tip – Huffing a short groan when it pops out of your cunt with a dirty-wet sound, forcing the man to grit his teeth tight. He keeps it up, letting the thick, weepy pudge of his cock head catch on your hole, choking a groan behind his teeth every time it slips back out.

You squirm against the confines of your little box prison, about to whine out another beg before Alex beats you to it. His hand holds your hip, nice and steady as if it could move at all right now. He talks you through it, breathing out babbled praises, reassurances, oddly sweet despite the vulgar scene. Ohh, but when he finally sinks into you, pushing deeper, deeper, deeper! Thick tip kissing lovingly at the swell of your cervix, nestled nice and snug in your guts.

“Al..ex..” Yoba, it's the only word you know, it seems. A Chant easily dropping off of your tongue, murmured around the walls of the locker you’d stuck yourself in,

You’re not the only one. Alex can’t help but breathe out your name, again and again falling off of his lips like drool while he sinks into your cunt. Finally, finally feeling the sweet swell of your cunt enveloped the fat length of his cock, silky soft walls hugging on him. You squeeze- 

How could he keep his hips still like this? Why bother at all? He surely doesn’t.

The brunette rolls his hips into your ass, rolling his eyes with his own movement, relishing in the gushy snuggle of your walls on his cock. He finds himself mindlessly rocking his thick cock into your silky pussy, humping his hips against your ass like some kind of mutt in heat. His hands wrap around the lovely spread of your thighs, hooking under, using you as leverage and careful as he can, using your pussy like a special toy, tender with his grinding rolls.

He can feel you attempt to give it back, trying your best to hump back on his lap, take him down deeper, kissing your folds on his base, letting those wiry hairs brushed over his lap get all sticky-slick. His mouth falls open at the sight, stringy, creamy, frothy- a mess in his lap all drooled by your cunt, wet pussy kisses with each rolling fuck of his hips.

A heavy breath makes its way through his nose, eyes hyper-focused on the pretty, creamy ring around his length as he fucks his hips against you, watching the mess slowly leak its way onto his pants loosely dropped down his waist. An ache builds in his pelvis, the thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock.

You felt mindless, stuck in the warm darkness, humid with your own breath, skin tacky and moist, joints aching, back pinching but fuck- You couldn’t care less. Not with the heat between your legs, or the praises and promises babbled by the man behind you. Yoba, especially not with the way he moves to mount up on you, soft fucks turned hearty and thick, clapping hard, pelvis slapping into your ass and pussy.

He fucks you. Holding you nice and steady for his hips to snap, finishing off each and every thrust with a roll to his hips, jabbing the pudge of his tip into the supple, mushy little spot inside of you. Alex eyes the pretty ripple of your ass clapping on his pelvis, whimpering deep in his throat with how juicy and gushy your cunt was on his length. 

I was all so much. For both of you-

His hips snap, pace faltering, clapping his hips in heated but sloppy staccatos, dragging his cock out and slamming right back in with a wet smack of his hips. You cry with every thrust, muffled and echoed against the walls of the lockbox, silky cunt squeezing on his tip, babbling his name over and over and over.

“Shit- Babe-!” He throws out the name and fuck, it feels right. It's all over when his fingers dare to come forth, rubbing tight circles into your sticky clit, twiddling with the little thing, making you tighten-

Oh it's a dangerous game, feeling the supple milk of your pussy, squeezing on his length in those sweet pulses while you cream- He has to pull out- Fuck, gotta cum-

The poor guy barely makes it, spilling onto your weepy cunt, jerking himself off over your back, letting ropey spurts of hot cum land in spatters over your skin. Of course he keeps his other hand up, circling your clit feverishly in the same pattern he strokes off his cock, working you both through those tender orgasms you’d brought upon each other- 

It’s all hot breaths, panting hard, chest heaving with the comedown. Oh poor you, achy legs still all stuck, sweaty body slippery against the squeeze of metal. Alex notices in his haze, scooping you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky, musky splashes of cum stained over your back. He hushes you, huffing a chuckle into your neck when he finally gets you free!

“Hi..” You groan, falling into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, daring to stretch your legs with a wobbly twitch, cramping hard in your calf.

“Hey.” He blinks, hand already working to soothe your poor muscles, massaging warmth into your skin, on fire compared to the freezing floor tiles.

“So..” The brunette bites into his bottom lip, kissing his teeth with a pondering tut before he turns to properly face you, flashing a teeth-filled, goofy grin.

“How about a bath?” 

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[ckret2]

Chapter 91 of Bill Cipher, still in drag as a Normal Human, getting an unusual amount of unsupervised time outside of the Mystery Shack: Agent Powers very seriously pursues the truth behind what happened last summer.

Meanwhile, the other agents very goofily pursue the truth behind what happened last summer.

Lookit'em go.

Meanwhile meanwhile, Bill faces down the metaphorical specter of his own dying legacy.

####

Ford paced across the ritual chamber, reading and re-reading the script Bill had handed him, stroking his chin in concentration.

Bill watched him from the Blind Eye's favorite brainwashing chair, one ankle hooked over the other knee in a figure 4, hands laced behind his head. "I know the script's a little hammy, but you saw those recordings! This is genuinely how these guys talk, I promise!"

"No no," Ford said. "The script's fine. It's just—I've never played a villain before. I need to get in character."

"Oh, you nerd!" Bill rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "This is a big DD & More D session to you, isn't it!"

"Of course not. DD & More D's RPG system is far better suited to swords & sorcery than cloak & dagger."

"You know what I mean."

Ford was fighting to prevent a giddy smile from breaking out across his face. "I assure you, I'm taking this completely seriously."

"Ha! Sure. You're lucky you're behind the camera, that face would ruin the performance," Bill said. "At least it's an improvement over that scowl you always give me." Slightly deflated, he said, "Yeah, that scowl."

"We shouldn't waste time. Should we...?" Ford gestured to the wrist straps on the chair.

"Ha! I don't trust you that much." Bill held his hands behind his back, wrists crossed. "Just pretend I'm tied up, it's fine."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"What's that supposed to mean."

"I'm not an actor. You're a liar but you're not an actor either. We're missing the chanting chorus the cult leader usually has when he does this. We need every tool we can get to make this look convincing."

"Pfff!" Bill waved off Ford's worries. "Re-lax, he won't suspect a thing. Guarantee it."

"Are you sure he's dumb enough to buy this?"

####

Powers sat on the floor, staring into space, as he reevaluated everything he knew about this town.

####

"It's like that goat can teleport," Trigger grunted, trying to get between a couple of trees. "How did it get all the way—?" He tripped over a fallen tree hidden beneath a blanket of ferns and crashed to the ground with a yelp.

Dale leaped over the log, offered Trigger a hand, and said, "Maybe the trees are messing with the radar?"

Trigger brushed some leaves out of his hair. "Where's it say it is now?"

"About twenty feet..." Dale pointed. "That way."

They looked.

Gompers was stood staring over a thick bush at them. Tauntingly.

"Ah-ha!" Trigger ran for him; Dale followed close behind, looking at his tablet. "Now we've got you!" Trigger fought through the bush forming a barrier between him and the goat. "Stay right there, you—"

He yelped as he stepped on air and lost his balance. Dale managed to stop just in time, the tips of his shoes over the edge, only for Trigger to grab his wrist and drag him down—straight into a ten foot deep crevasse that the bush had been hiding.

Gompers stood on the other side of the crevasse, looking down at them curiously.

Dale and Trigger were tangled at the bottom, stuck in a mud puddle that had been left over from the past weekend's rains. Dale groaned at the goat, "How'd you get over there?"

Trigger attempted to climb up the steep side, dislodged a sheet of dirt, and slid back down on top of Dale. "How do we get over there?"

Gompers bleated at them and took off deeper into the woods again.

####

While the agent was busy having what was no doubt a very exciting look into Gravity Falls' secret unauthorized mental health charity service, Bill decided to make a visit to that curtained-off wing of the museum he'd seen last night—the one with all the warnings against bringing a camera into the area.

It was a lot less exciting than Bill had expected. Just a display of a bunch of local Native art—hide clothes with elaborate quillwork and beadwork, jewelry made of shells and claws, stone carvings, baskets... Most of it was the kind of stuff that had been made in this area only long after the locals he'd befriended had so callously betrayed and banished him several thousand years back; only a couple of objects looked like things the people he'd known might have made, primarily the stone things. But even though most of the stuff in the room was "modern," he thought it looked too modern, not like the centuries-old works he'd expected.

The room was familiar—distantly, fuzzily familiar. As though he'd seen it in a dream.

A glance at a plaque on the wall explained why everything looked so new: most of the displayed items were replicas. This was a collection of objects that the Northwest family had stolen from tribes in the area over a hundred years ago. When the Northwest Manor had been sold to one Fiddleford H. McGucket, all objects left behind in it had conveyed, stolen artwork and crafts included—and an oil painting of the sleazy-looking Northwest who'd done a majority of the stealing, which was now hanging in the museum with a list of his known and suspected crimes and injustices displayed next to the painting. It was, Bill had to grudgingly admit, pretty funny. Kudos to whichever museum employee had thought that up.

According to the plaque, Fiddleford had contacted the nearest tribes to ask them whether they recognized anything in the Northwests' collection and to offer to return the pieces—which surprised Bill. He'd never seen Specs as the kind of guy to be particularly interested in repatriation. Most of the ill-gotten art had been gladly taken; anything that nobody had wanted, Fiddleford put in the museum; and a few artisans had even offered modern replicas of some of the items Fiddleford had returned, for public display with the artists credited.

He didn't see why this room was behind heavy curtains with half a dozen "no photography" warnings. It wasn't like these were priceless antiques at risk of degrading under flash photography; aside from the oil painting—which he doubted anyone was too precious about—everything in this room was under a decade old. So why...?

He had seen this little exhibit in a dream, he was sure of it. He tried to find the point of view he'd seen the room from. The room wasn't a perfect rectangle. It turned, L-shaped, into a little alcove. Bill wandered into the alcove—and froze when he saw his own face.

He was eyes-to-eye with the apocalyptic tapestry through which he'd watched the Northwest Manor's great hall for decades: black sky, red inferno, dead trees, dead humans, dying survivors, and above it all Bill's eye shining blood red like the sun hidden behind wildfire smoke. Another: the odd spaceship-shaped gap in the mountains around the town, and Bill—bright yellow against a deep red sky—framed by the gap as though his eye were the setting sun. And another—a pattern consisting of nothing but triangles with eyes, the geometry unusual for art in this region—and another—Bill surrounded by blue lightning, probably a distorted remembering of the unsuccessful redwood portal—and another, another...

Six tapestries in all, of varying sizes. These weren't replicas. Each showed varying degrees of age—broken quills, frayed edges, fading dye, the grime of an article centuries old that had been poorly cared for—but they were all centuries old. The tributes to him made during his long absence: the echoes of a millennia-old generational trauma memory.

The tapestries weren't all that was contained in this little alcove. He forced himself to break eye contact with himself to look at the other items on display. Photographs of several cave paintings—the zodiac, the ritual to summon Bill, the prophecy of his defeat. A few small carvings of his face in stone and wood. Spear tips with his face carved in them, broken due to the way a hollowed-out eye compromised the structural integrity of the stone. And—one of Mabel's blankets, sitting innocently behind a glass case. He stared at it in amazement. Who would have imagined that he'd find a little shrine to himself, right in the middle of the Gravity Falls Museum nearly a year after his death?

On the blanket, his eye had been crossed out with an X of black electrical tape. Bill's blood ran cold.

He forced himself to look at the tapestries again. Some of the quills were broken with age, yes; but someone had also taken a sharp knife and sliced two neat, clean lines across his eye in each of the tapestries, almost invisible except for a few of the broken quills that now bent out of place. The geometric pattern of triangles had been so criss-crossed with slashes that it was amazing it hadn't disintegrated.

His eyes darted over the rest of the objects, studying them more closely. The stone and wood depictions of his face—all freshly re-carved into, X'es covering the eyes. Where he'd first assumed the spear tips had broken with age, he could now see how they'd all been snapped neatly, precisely in half. In the photographs from the cave, he could see his eyes had each been covered by a red spray-painted X. The summoning ritual had also been defaced: apparently not content with painting over it, someone had fully scraped the ritual off of the cave wall, leaving behind only a few missed marks.

None of these items had been defaced before. Bill had made sure that the people in the area passed on a "superstition" against damaging any images of the One-Eyed Beast. (Translation: after they'd figured out that Bill was bad news and decided to cut ties to him, he'd contacted them in their dreams—"If any of you humans even try to take out my eyes, I'll haunt you all so hard. I'll be in your nightmares, I'll be in your kids' nightmares, I'll be in your grandkids' grandkids' nightmares, do not test me!" That had been about the time the shaman locked Bill out of the valley and ensured he couldn't make good on his threat—but the superstition lingered.) He knew for a fact that some of these eyes had even been working as recently as last summer: he'd watched the Northwests' every move through those tapestries. All this damage had been done after his death.

The only item that hadn't been defaced was the blanket. The plaque: "Artist: Mabel Pines, great-niece of town heroes Stanley and Stanford Pines, age 13. Acrylic yarn, 2012. Recreation of a ritual symbol designed to defeat the Beast with One Eye. Donated by Fiddleford McGucket." He suspected this blanket got electrical tape instead of a brutal slashing as a courtesy not to the artwork's subject, but to its artist.

He read the informational plaque accompanying this anti-shrine.

These were the only items in this wing that weren't replicas—because no tribe with ancestry around Gravity Falls Valley wanted them back. (So Fiddleford had offered to return art in Northwest Manor, had he? Begged was more likely.) The plaque explained that neighboring tribes considered depictions of "the Beast with One Eye" to be cursed. "Cursed" wasn't quite the correct term, Bill knew well; but the plaque didn't leave room to expand. It kept its description as terse as possible. (After all, anybody in Gravity Falls already knew exactly why these particular items were cursed; and tourists didn't need to know.) The plaque ended, firmly, "They say they would rather forget about the Beast with One Eye."

Somebody else had scrawled underneath in red marker, "AND SO WOULD WE!"

Underneath the marker scrawl , someone had written in smaller, neat, black pen, "יִמַּח שְׁמוֹ". Yimakh shemo. May his name be erased. A death threat would have hurt less.

There were under ten humans in Gravity Falls that Bill knew had studied Hebrew. He forced himself to wrench his eyes away before he could be sure he recognized the cursive handwriting.

Behold: the legacy of the great, the godly, the All-Knowing and All-Seeing Bill Cipher. Relegated to old history, shoved disdainfully in the corner of a stupid hick town's stupid local museum, with people fighting over who has to put up with the last remnants of him. For thousands of years, the locals had been driven to preserve his memory, but it hadn't been preserved out of reverence; and from now on, it wouldn't even be preserved out of fear.

Without Bill around to pull the strings, the superstitions would fade, the myths would be forgotten, and humans would get bored with the All-Seeing Eye symbol and stop using it. Eventually, humanity's influence would wane, and another species whose culture he'd never influenced would take over; and within a few short millennia, his face would be forgotten on Earth. His face would be forgotten everywhere.

How could this have happened to him?

He glowered at the array of blind eyes staring at him from the walls.

Bill's pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone. Ah, right, Powers. He'd almost forgotten about him completely. Ha.

Powers had texted to ask him to come downstairs. He said there was something Bill needed to see. Yeah, he bet there was.

It was certainly better than this.

####

"Hey there," Dale said, crouched on the sidewalk, voice high and soothing, "come on, this way."

Gompers stared at him distrustfully from just within the protective boundary of the forest's treeline.

Dale was holding out a slice of Greasy's cherry pie on a paper plate. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "We want to help you. You've got a little piece of plastic inside you that we need to get out... it'll probably be good for your health..."

Slowly, Gompers crept out of the forest, watching the agents warily as he approached the plate of pie.

Standing a safe distance behind Dale with his arms crossed, supervising, Trigger said, "You have quite a way with animals."

"I've always found that animals have a calming effect on me, so I've tried to cultivate a calming air in return." He looked up at Trigger. "You see, the key is respect. Mutual respect. From man to animal and from animal to man. One time I was meditating with this Tibetan monk in a dream, and—"

He turned back toward the goat. The pie was gone. Along with half the paper plate, and a chunk of his suit's sleeve.

Gompers was hightailing it down the street.

"Oh."

Trigger said, "I don't think he reciprocates your respect."

####

One of the files Powers had found was in code—he'd have to ask Goldie to take a look at it—but the other file, the one on the Memory Gun, was all in plain English; and for the past few minutes, he'd been reading through a list of adverse side-effects the Blind Eye had discovered from using the gun. Victims who had forgotten how to drive, forgotten their children, forgotten their own names... The aim of the document seemed to be to determine how to refine their wording when they programmed the gun in order to more accurately select their desired memories. 

But whoever had written it seemed more concerned with the victims who remembered more than they should have.

Powers was startled by a knock on the door. He slapped the file shut. "Hello?"

"It's me." That was Goldie's voice.

He heaved a sigh of relief. "Come in, it's safe."

There was a moment of silence. "It's stuck."

"What?"

"The door. It, ah—must be... heavy?"

Huh. He crossed the room to help open it. It was a pretty heavy door, but it didn't seem stuck to him; but Goldie just swept past him with a muttered thanks. "What's this room?"

"It's—memories, I think," Powers said. "As outrageous as it sounds, it appears that a secret society stores stolen memories in this room. I've only watched a few, so far I can't figure out the pattern to who's being targeted or why, but..."

He trailed off. Goldie had drifted past the piles of memory canisters with only quick glances, drawn to the odd-looking TV-like screen at the back of the room, as if mesmerized by its glow all the way from the door. He sighed quietly. "There's... something I think you should see."

He couldn't look at Goldie while the recording played. Instead, he watched it again, staring at the past Goldie's terror and rage.

When it was over, all she said was, "Wow." Her voice was strangely flat. It was another couple of seconds before she added, "That's—pretty bad, huh."

Her reaction was underwhelming. Powers turned to look at her, puzzled.

Her expression was terrifyingly blank. There was something hard and heavy and distant in her eyes. Exhausted. Like she was just holding it together under some sort of heartbreak. She was always so animated; the change was almost scary.

He said, "I'm sorry, I should have warned you. It must be a terrible shock." He'd been too shocked to think of warning her.

The comment seemed to shake her out of some sort of trance. "It's—fine. Just gimme a sec, I..." She rubbed her eyelids with one hand. "Wow! Okay. I can handle this. It's just..." She gestured vaguely at the screen. "It's a lot to process."

He could only imagine. "Do you remember this happening at all?"

She took a long moment to answer, fingers still pressing her eyes shut. "No," she finally said. "I think I remember being here before. The room looks familiar." That explained how she'd navigated it so confidently. "But—not that. I don't know when that happened. When did that happen?"

"I think it must have been last summer."

Powers explained everything he'd found so far—the contents of the other canisters, the blueprints for the Memory Gun. Goldie had to sit on a nearby table as she processed this—elbows on her knees, knuckles pressed against each other, index fingers tapping together as she listened.

"It looks as though this 'Society of the Blind Eye' has been erasing the memories of people in town—and people who know too much about them. But I don't know why they're here or why they're doing this," Powers said. "In one of the memories, Preston Northwest mentioned a secret town founder. It might be irrelevant to whatever's happening here, but it does sound like the most important thing on any of the recordings I watched. Aside from—yours."

He sat beside Goldie. "I suspect you were a part of the bureau." It was horrifying to think—that they might have worked together and both forgotten—but...

"Yeah. It's possible," Goldie said. 

"Do you remember anything that might have suggested you were part of the bureau? Something we could look up and verify?" Powers asked. "Somewhere you lived in Washington, or maybe part of your training...?"

She winced and broke eye contact with him. "Uh... no. I—I don't."

How much had she lost? Far more than just the details of the investigation she'd come to town for. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders reassuringly. She tensed, then relaxed, then leaned against him—but hardly seemed to notice he was there.

"I think something's coming back," she said, gaze faraway. "Now that I'm here... I remember being in the museum. I think I was caught by somebody wearing a hooded robe."

(Powers glanced at the carving of a robed man in front of the altar.)

"They were angry that I'd taken... some kind of map? It was square, looked really old..."

"A map!" Powers jumped up to grab the file on the Memory Gun and pulled out an odd paper he'd found sticking out of it. "Is this it?"

"That's it!" Goldie favored him with a smile, her first since he'd shown her that memory.

"It looks like gibberish, though," Powers said. "There's several partial images, but nothing clear. I don't know what to make of it."

Goldie glanced over it. "Have you tried folding it?"

He gave her a quizzical look. "Folding it how?"

She raised her hands in a shrug. "It's got creases on it. Looks like somebody's folded it before."

He'd assumed that someone had just folded it to stuff in their pocket at some point—but the creases formed an odd, precise geometric pattern of triangles and diagonal squares. Now that she mentioned it, it didn't look the way anyone would normally fold a paper. He studied the directions of the creases, folded the four corners in to meet in the middle—and a drawing of a pointing hand emerged from what had once been unintelligible lines and curves on the corners of the page. Look at that.

But now the four new corners of the image were covered in inscrutable lines of their own; maybe...? He turned the map over and repeated the process, folding the four corners into the center; and there was a new image, but it looked like a couple of different images jumbled together. "Hmm..." He stroked his chin, staring perplexed at the image.

(Next to him, Bill pressed his lips flat together to keep himself from telling Powers to unfold two opposite flaps and see what happened, come on, do a little experimenting, man. Schoolchildren made these things when they were bored in class and pretended to tell each other's fortune with them, this wasn't that complicated. But no, be patient, it was fine, it was fine, Bill had shown more tolerance for denser humans solving simpler problems than this. What kind of a muse and mentor would he be if he couldn't show a little patience with ignorant mortals? Heck, it was a tribute to Bill's personal patience and strength of character that he hadn't spontaneously combusted the entire Nightmare Realm in the process of trying to get a portal built.)

Eventually, Powers figured it out himself, unfolding the top and bottom flaps to reveal a hidden diagram: a crude graveyard with a tunnel weaving underneath, the tunnel marked with arrows pointing at it. Closing the top and bottom flaps and unfolding the left and right flaps revealed another diagram: it looked like a building floor plan, with a dotted line that led to an equilateral triangle pointed downward. He recognized the floor plan. Aside from the triangle, he'd seen the same map upstairs less than an hour ago. "This is the museum."

"Looks like it. Think it's something important?" Goldie smiled wanly. "You don't typically think of important things being left to rot in some dusty corner of a small-town museum."

"Don't you? If a small town has a museum, I'd think that's where they'd preserve the most important objects they have."

Goldie processed that silently. "Yeah," she said, voice hollow. "Maybe."

"At any rate, it was important enough to erase your mind over. Let's go."

At the door to the pneumatic tube room, Powers said, "I'll follow this map; you watch the exits and alert me if anyone's coming. We don't know who at the museum might be working for..." He turned to look at Goldie, and found she was no longer at his side. "Goldie?" He turned around.

She was storming back across the room, finger pointed like the tip of a saber at the wooden cultist sculpture. "You think you can erase me?! You think you can make the whole world forget I ever existed?!" She clawed at the wooden hood like she was trying to get her fingers into the fabric and strangle the placid-looking figure. "I bet you think you're such a hero! Defending your precious little town from the big scary monster who came here to help you! But you'll never destroy me! I'll make your skin into shower curtains! I'll—let go of me—I'll flip your electrons into positrons, I'll—"

Powers managed to get an arm around Goldie's shoulder and lead her back to the door. She spat in its blinded eye as she left.

####

While Goldie stared at a display on the town's lumber industry (Powers suspected she wasn't actually reading it), he followed the map to find a painting—an odd inclusion in a history museum. It took him a few minutes to realize it should be turned upside-down to match the shape in the map, snapped a picture, and turned his phone over to find an image of an angel.

He didn't know what to make of that; and when he asked Goldie if she could see any sort of codes or disguised messages in it, she said she couldn't. The angel appeared to be a dead end; their only other lead was the town graveyard drawn on the map.

Goldie was uncharacteristically forlorn as they returned to Powers's car and he opened the passenger door for her. As they got on the road, Powers asked, "Are... you alright?" Stupid question. "If there's anything you need..."

"Promise you'll never forget me." He could feel her eyes blazing against the side of his face, staring at him, commandingly.

He nodded. "I promise." Traffic was light; he took one hand off the steering wheel to offer to her.

She seized it firmly, like they were sealing a pact.

####

Gompers ran across the roofs of the businesses lining Main Street, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and bleating in fear as he was chased. And Trigger chased after him, just a building behind Gompers.

But Main Street wasn't very long. Gompers scrabbled over the sloped shingles of a small salon, jumped down to the flat roof of the rival barber shop next door, and found himself out of buildings. He turned around to nervously watch his pursuer.

"I've got you cornered now," Trigger said. "Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. Just come along quietly, and..." The roof creaked under him. "Uh oh." It collapsed under him.

He landed flat on his back in the middle of a salon. A couple of hairdressers and their customers stared at him. He sat up, looked around at them sheepishly, and said, "Afternoon, ladies."

####

The angel statue was visible through the trees even before the rest of Gravity Falls Cemetery. When they were close enough to inspect it, it was clear the angel's left hand matched the hand drawn on the map; as Powers was inspecting the hand, he accidentally bent its index finger, and the ground opened up.

Goldie elected to stand guard near the entrance, sitting on the steps, as Powers explored deeper; which was just as well, because the tunnel was apparently boobytrapped. (What in the world was the Blind Eye's budget? Hidden subterranean chambers in the museum, hidden underground tunnel in the cemetery, a memory-erasing ray gun, a poison dart trap...)

At the bottom of a steep incline, the tunnel opened up into a chamber. He expected maybe money, or stolen and forged property deeds, or even bootleg maple syrup... you never knew in this town. He didn't expect piles upon piles of crates and files with the Official United States Government Cover-Up Seal—the seal of the Bureau of Covert Investigations' parent department.

He didn't like this.

He steeled himself and began exploring the room.

####

Goldie lifted her head as she saw Powers coming up the tunnel. "Hey!" She held up one of the files they'd taken from the Blind Eye's filing cabinet. "I decoded that ciphered document you found. It wasn't even a good cipher. I think we've got the Blind Eye's address book! Names, addresses, officer titles—say, what do you think a 'secretary' does in a society that tries to erase memories? He's probably not recording meeting notes..."

She fell silent as Powers flung down a file on the step beside her. "What's that?" She picked it up. The file was titled "THE NORTHWEST COVER-UP" and stamped TOP SECRET. The cover-up seal took up most of the cover; beneath it was an X'ed out eye and the typewritten letters, "in collaboration with the Society of the Blind Eye".

"Everything about this town is a lie," Powers said. 

"Everything? What do you mean?" Goldie flipped open the file, skimmed it, and frowned. "Who founded the town?"

"President. Sir. Quentin Trembley. The third. Esquire." Powers pronounced each title separately. He sat down next to Goldie; his hands were trembling. "He was a secret United States president. When he was evicted from office—he wasn't even impeached, they just kicked him out!—he fled across the country and founded This. Town." He shook his head in disbelief. If he hadn't read it himself... "This—this Trembley was an utter madman. He declared war against pancakes, appointed infants to the Supreme Court, banned pants, raved publicly about giant spiders... I'm not surprised he was ousted, he sounds like a complete lunatic."

As he spoke, Goldie's expression darkened. "Huh." But she didn't say anything else. She just stared at the cover-up file.

"Somebody decided to erase his entire existence from history. Nathaniel Northwest was named the founder of Gravity Falls in his place. He sounds like he was just as mad as Trembley was, but—he was just the village idiot, I suppose he must have been easier to control than this Trembley." Powers shook his head.

"So... what does all this have to do with the Blind Eye?" Goldie asked.

"In one of the memory canisters, I saw them discussing this cover-up with Preston Northwest—Nathaniel's descendant. He knew about the cover-up—of course he would, his family's fortune rests upon it!—but... they erased Preston's knowledge of it, too. Not only is this town the center of a cover-up to hide the fact that we once had a lunatic for a president, but also the government set up an entire secret cult to erase the memories of anyone who finds out about it... or, by the looks of things, about anything else happening in Gravity Falls that the government doesn't want civilians looking at too closely."

Powers took a shaky breath. "And that's not the worst of it."

"Oh-oh." Goldie closed the cover-up file and looked at him warily. "What's the worst?"

Powers held out a business card—bent, dusty, worn around the edges from age—that he'd found sitting next to the projector. It was his own business card. "The worst part is, I already knew about it."

####

Dale waited outside the salon, hands in his pockets. He checked his watch, then rocked back on his heels.

Trigger stepped out of the salon with frosted tips. Dale stared at him. Awkwardly, Trigger said, "Well?"

Dale nodded. "Yeah, you look nice, it's nice."

"Thanks. I've always wanted to try the look but never had an excuse," Trigger said. "Anyway—what do we do about the goat."

They started walking back to where they'd parked their car. Dale said, "In my opinion, it's time we call in the big guns."

"You mean...?"

"That's right. Animal control," Dale said. "We can set up a perimeter around town, then slowly close in. We'll tighten the net around it, and—"

Trigger clapped a hand on Dale's shoulder. He pointed down the alley they were passing.

Gompers was eating out of a spilled trash can. He looked up like a kid who'd just been caught shoplifting by two cops.

The agents exchanged a look, then lunged at Gompers.

####

When Bill got back to the shack, he owed the Pines a round of congratulations. Stan for stealing back the file on the Northwest cover-up from the police department, and for planting the papers from the case file and the threatening letter in Powers's motel room without getting caught; Mabel for the terrific forgery work on the fake map, the modifications to the cover-up file's cover, and the threatening letter itself; Ford for—well, he hadn't done a lot, but he'd been a decent actor—but on the other hand that yimakh shemo had burned up nearly all the goodwill Ford had earned last night, maybe Bill would skip thanking him; and Dipper had barely done anything, he'd just helped plant the file and the old business card in the chamber beneath the graveyard, Bill could skip thanking him too. Maybe he'd make a point of praising Soos for his chauffeuring just to rub in the fact that he was leaving Ford and Dipper out in the cold.

Thinking over his plans gave Bill something to entertain himself with while Powers clung to Bill's hand and reevaluated his entire life and career.

"I just don't... What else did I forget?" Powers asked. "I apparently forgot about the first time I learned all this... I must have forgotten you..."

"Hold on. Did we know each other before?" asked Bill, as if he hadn't planted all the clues to ensure Powers would come to that exact conclusion.

"We must have," Powers said. "You were investigating in this town, and yet I don't know you; the letter I received threatened that I might lose 'another' team member; and in your stolen memory, the Blind Eye told you that your team wouldn't remember you. I don't have a cryptologist on my team, and you're a cryptology expert. It all fits together."

Bill nodded encouragingly—yes, that was exactly what he'd wanted him to conclude.

"And there's all the other little clues that fit into place. The way you were so interested in this investigation, right from the outset. It makes sense if it was subconsciously familiar. And you think you're a visitor to town but the people here talk about you like you're a resident. They even seem to know you by two different genders... and when you told me to buy a car, you said to say that a 'Mr. Locke' sent me. You must have been communicating with people in town under two identities."

Hold on. That was dangerously close to information Powers shouldn't have. How had he found that out?

"And you know my first name," Powers went on. "Most of the BCI's field agents use code names even in the office. I've been working with Trigger since he joined, and he still doesn't know my first name. If you do..."

Bill was relieved they were back on track. He'd planted that clue on purpose. "Then we must have been close. No wonder I can't keep away from you."

Powers glanced away bashfully. (Ha! Too easy.) "And yet... I don't even know your name."

Alarm shot up Bill's spine. "What?"

"I thought 'Goldie Locke was an improbable name the first time I heard it. But, it's the exact kind of name the bureau would give a field agent. It has to be a code name."

Bill mentally kicked himself for the hundredth time for not choosing a subtler fake name. At least Powers had drawn the wrong conclusion. "Oh. Well. When you put it that way."

"Do you remember your real name?"

He hadn't prepared a backup fake name. He scrambled for another name that wasn't too masculine, too exotic, or even more fake sounding, and came up blank. "Uhhh, yyy—no."

"I wish I could help you remember it," Powers grumbled. "How much do you remember about your life?"

Bill had been deciding that since Powers asked at the museum if he remembered any verifiable biographical details (a question he should have anticipated sooner). He didn't want to say nothing, that might look too suspicious; but he didn't want to give any leads Powers could follow up on. "Not much. Faces without names, flashes of different cities I must've visited... I thought I just... had some kind of amnesia. The people in town have been nice enough to let me bum around here while I figure things out."

"At the Mystery Shack?" Powers asked. "You've been working with Stanford Pines."

Bill flinched. "I—yeah. I have." Sheesh, how did he know that?

"You didn't mention you were staying there," Powers said wryly.

Bill laughed. It came out more nervous than he'd have liked. "Yeah, well. I'm gonna come clean with you: I didn't want you to find out when I was trying to charm you into charming me out of my dress." (He was gratified to see Powers flush pink and turn away to loudly clear his throat. Bill had lost control of this conversation so fast, it was nice to know humans were still predictable in some ways.) "I mean, who wants to tell the handsome federal agent in the nice suit that you're a brain damaged bum couch-surfing in Oregon's most rickety tourist trap?"

"With all due respect, the brain damage wasn't as well-hidden as you think."

"Wh—hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Your trouble with your eyes. Issues with binocular vision are a common consequence of brain damage." (For the first time that day, Bill was suddenly hyperconscious of the way one of his overtaxed eyes was twitching as he struggled not to let it squint shut.) "And I skimmed the file on the Memory Gun. It mentioned cases of victims forgetting how to safely cross a street, how to ride a bike, how to throw a ball... I figure forgetting how to open doors falls under the same umbrella."

A chill settled over Bill. "Oh," he croaked. "Noticed that, did you. You've... been paying pretty close attention to me." Not to mention talking to someone about him.

"Of course. You're a mysterious woman. I want to learn more about you," Powers said. "We spent all day talking yesterday, and I don't think I learned anything about you except that you've been in town for a month, you have an uncanny knack for cracking ciphers, and you make very interesting culinary choices. You kept the conversation off yourself." 

Bill hadn't realized he'd noticed that. Powers wasn't supposed to have noticed any of this. This was what Bill got for trying to dupe a professional investigator. Thank goodness he'd gotten him set him up on this wild goose chase before he'd really dug up too much about Bill's history. Sometimes it was easy to forget that some of this planet's idiots were smart. "Well," he said awkwardly, "now you know why. At the moment, I don't have much I can tell you about myself."

Powers gave Bill a wan, sad smile. "It'll be alright," he said, sliding a reassuring arm around Bill's shoulders, and Bill realized more of his panic must be showing on his face than he'd wanted. "We'll fill in the gaps."

That was just what he was afraid of.

For the first time, the arm around Bill's shoulder felt less like a piece of a puzzle slotted into the proper place—all according to plan—and more like the kill bar of a mousetrap that hadn't yet realized a rodent was standing on the trigger.

Powers's phone rang. He picked it up, and Bill quietly sighed in relief. "Hello?"

"Sir!" That was Dale's excited voice on the line. "We got it! We've captured, extracted, and sterilized the flash drive!"

"Didn't you say it was in a goat? How did you get it out?"

"The, uhh... old fashioned way. Apparently cherry pie didn't agree with his digestive tract."

His voice a little more distant, Trigger emphasized, "Thoroughly sterilized."

"Excellent work," Powers said. "Where are you now?"

"En route to the motel."

"Very well. We'll meet you there."

Perfect, thought Bill. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he'd never have to worry about the agents learning too much again.

####

(Post-TBOB edits! Had to change the age of the items on display in the museum, since TBOB changed Bill's interactions with the shaman from being about 1000 years ago to about 4000 years ago; and since a tapestry like we saw in the Northwest Manor is unlikely to have lasted 4000 years and is made in an art style that seems to be about 1500 years old, had to make up an excuse for it to exist; in the tapestry description, added in the tapestry in Pacifica's room mentioned on TINAWDC; and I think that's it? Just minor details.

And now y'all know why a few chapters ago I had to very clearly establish the distance between Powers's team and the guys who actually know about Trembley lol.

Anyway we are MOST OF THE WAY through the exciting action! Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this week's chapter! And I mentioned it on my blog but for those of y'all that only show up for the chapters: we're switching to every other week posts for a while because working on another flashback arc ate up more of my chapter buffer than I'd like. In between weeks with new chapters, I'll be editing and posting old chapters to AO3.)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

ok so imagine a reader who eventually at some point starts excitedly giving Robin, firefly, march and Acheron goodbye and hello hugs cuz they’re just very happy to see them?

(H:SR) Robin, Firefly, March 7th, and Acheron's S/O giving them energetic hugs

It doesn't matter how tiring the concerts were for Robin, or how long the day ahead of her was:

The moment she left and came back, S/O's loving embrace was all that she needed to get her psyched up.

Smiling, Robin allows herself to melt into their warmth as her wings flap just a little faster.

(S/O) "You did great out there!"

(Robin) "Thank you, dear..."

Robin's hugs are just as warm, though it's far more relaxed in nature.

Mostly due to the fact she can just be herself around them.

Firefly happily reciprocates S/O's hugs due to the nature of her mission. Though Elio's script has her coming back alive, that doesn't mean it'd be a short trip by any stretch of the imagination.

And so, her hugs are just as energetic as S/O's, a sad smile and a tight hug leaving, and an even bigger smile and a bone-crushing embrace returning.

(S/O) "Firefly! Welcome back!"

(Firefly) "It's so nice to hear your voice again..."

Firefly's hugs are passionate and surprisingly strong. Though given the nature of her strength, maybe it shouldn't be as shocking.

Usually, she lifts them off the ground and will yelp for a moment if the same is done to her, ending in a fit of laughter as she just rests within their arms for a second longer.

March will return the energetic glomping with equal force, if not stronger.

Even if she was going to be gone for at maximum a few days, she'll act as if she won't see them for a while solely for dramatic effect.

(S/O) "Finally, you're back!"

(March 7th) "Of course, now come here you!"

There has been times where she has almost tackled S/O to the floor in the surprise "hug", both of which begin laughing immediately as the volume of the train car increases tenfold.

March's hugs are playful yet firm, she isn't going to be lifting S/O off the ground but she sure as hell can stagger them with it.

Acheron isn't as playful when it comes to hugging, but her touch lingers on S/O's body longer than theirs.

Sighing deeply into their arms before she leaves, she reluctantly pulls back.

Moments like these, it's not goodbye, not really. It was more like...she wasn't here right now.

(S/O) "Acheron...be safe, please?"

(Acheron) "Of course. And to you as well, S/O. I'll find my way back to you."

And to that S/O gave a little smile, causing her to chuckle.

(Acheron) "Or at the very least, I'll text you when I think I'm nearby."

(S/O) "That sounds more accurate."

Acheron's hugs are long as she can barely feel the touch of her lover. Despite the Nihility that ate away at her, she'd do all she could to remember their loving embrace.

But the hugs she gives upon returning last for nearly ten minutes, unused to having someone actually waiting for her return and not wanting to let go of that feeling just yet...

[steviewashere]

Just had a vision. Wrote this like a script, I'm so sorry. (It's my inner theater kid coming back from the dark crevices of my personality, sorry.)

Eddie and Steve sitting on the sofa at the Munson's. They're watching some movie. Steve is clearly fidgeting, not interested in the movie. Eddie doesn't move his eyes off of the screen.

Eddie: Babe, if this is boring, we can pick a different movie, y'know. You don't have to get into comfier positions to make yourself more interested.

Steve: *Doesn't answer. Doesn't even make a noise to acknowledge what Eddie said. But he has finally calmed down and is sitting still.*

Eddie: *Sighs and reaches forward for the remote to pause the VCR*

Eddie: *Then looks over at Steve, yelps, and startles backwards on the sofa, clutching a hand to his chest.* Babe, why the fuck are you so close? Why was your nose literally about to be inside my ear?

Steve: You have a mole. Right—*He wiggles his left index finger and plots it down on a spot right at the edge of Eddie's left cheek, where it meets his ear*—here.

Steve: *Still sitting as close as he was, watching Eddie get back into his previous position. His finger moves because Eddie is sitting staring at him. He just stares back at Eddie's bewildered expression.*

Steve: *Unblinking and too close and breathing kind of heavy* I want to lick it.

Eddie: *Sputtering* Wh—what?

Steve: Or bite it. Is it weird that I want to bite you? Because I want to. Really bad. Like every time you look really hot, which is like all the time, but it makes me want to bite you. Just...Just wanna take a nibble all the time.

Eddie:

Steve:

Eddie: And I'm the freak? *Mutters under his breath* Christ.

Steve: So can I bite y—

Eddie: *Offers up his left hand* Go crazy, you dork.

Steve: *Fucking ecstatic*

[floralmelancolie]

sex pollen + giyuu nagghhhhh i wanna see him literally start to go crazy from neediness and once he gets you to fuck him , no matter how many times he comes its just never enough—the over sensitivity paired with the burning need to come again just melts his brain…

(ps what do u think would make him cry during sex + something he likes but is really embarrassed about)

xx take care♥️

anon my love. i haven’t had the chance to write my extensive thoughts on this but know i’ve been going insane with this in my inbox. i’ll revisit the post script soon, you’ve sparked so many thoughts about mega whore giyuu <3

giyuu is already soooo needy. his big blue eyes fill with tears whenever you graze over his most sensitive spots, staring at you like a deer in headlights with his chest rising and falling quickly, cute little nipples puffy and bitten red, coming almost immediately at anything you do to him. he lays back and lets you play with him, a warm hole for you to use and giyuu is content with anything so long as you touch him.

but with something like sex pollen? oh… what a gorgeous sight. giyuu throws himself onto you, whimpering and humping his weeping cock that’s just sooo hard and needy against your leg. his hands would bundle into your haori, staring up at you desperately with flushed cheeks, pretty wet lips spread so eagerly. he can’t help it. he needs you, so bad.

giyuu’s so cute to tease. desperate, horny. he’s relatively quiet during sex asides from some sweet whines and gasps, but he’d be sooo noisy like this. breaths coming fast and wet, as he tugs you closer to him while he humps your leg.

“c’mon, need it,” giyuu whimpers, tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. he nuzzles his head into your neck, a strangled sob leaving his throat as you raise your leg into his needy cock. “p-please! don’t tease.”

you struggle to bite back a chuckle at how just damn horny your beautiful partner is, stroking a hand against his sweaty hair. “use your words,” you tease. “what does my baby need?”

“n-no, don’t make me say it… please,” he mutters between whines, squeezing his thighs together against your own and grinding down harder.

he acts like he hates it— you teasing him and making him beg for what he wants. but giyuu loves it. it’s cathartic for him, to let go of any shame. to let you take him apart and use his body how you please. if you push him just the right way, like this, he’ll scream pleas of more into the pillow until his throat goes hoarse.

“i dunno… i’m not too convinced.”

“f-fuck me, please, i need it! want it so bad!” giyuu cries, arching his back into you so beautifully and tearfully. with a harsh grind against your thigh, you feel a patch on your pants grow wet.

“no… fuck, i’m sorry.” giyuu says, attempting to pull off with his eyes lidded. you grip his waist tight, pulling him back down onto your leg, yelping at a swift spank over his ass.

“you’re beautiful, ‘yuu. let me fill you up good, mkay? fuck you dumb.”

giyuu could come in his pants like this. but he needs his hole filled— needs to be fucked stupid. he can feel his brain growing fuzzy, the corner of his vision going a little blurry. the only thing that boils in his stomach is pleasure and the knot of an orgasm on the brim. he loves that mindless feeling as you drag him onto your cock, enjoys the almost dehumanizing feeling of being a warm sleeve for you to use.

of course, giyuu knows you love him. knows you care for his pleasure— but his pleasure is best earned when you’re chasing your own. no matter how much you use him, he’s still so tight, clenching desperately around you, hands grasping against anything he can to ground himself as he feels another orgasm brewing.

“cumming, so good! mhh, please! m-more…” giyuu cries, a small bit of tears and drool staining the pillow beneath him as you pound deeply into his tight hole. his chest is flat against the bed, hips pulled impossibly high as you piston deep into him.

reaching your hand down, you flick at the tip of his red sensitive cock. he squeals, eyes opening wide as he sniffs.

“that’s… no, too much, just came! d-don’t—”

you know giyuu doesn’t mean it when he says no. he’d let you know if he truly didn’t want to— so you wrap your hand against his wet weeping cock and pump. giyuu’s hips jerk wildly, cum spurting out of his cock as you force his head back into that airy and floaty feeling.

“gonna— ngh, sensitive! fffuck,” giyuu drawls, nouth agape as his body twitches. his tongue hangs loose from his mouth, tears running down his adorably red cheeks.

“you got this, baby. attaboy. so good,” you praise, a slap against his ass arching his back further back into a position that has you pounding against his abused prostate. “my pretty, pretty, good boy.”

“good? i am?”

“mhm, my good little fucktoy. you love this, right? love getting pounded like the slut you are?”

giyuu nods quickly, hiccuping as you thumb over his slit as you press deep against his prostate. he feels melted, letting you take such good care of him as he lays there like a doll.

he can’t take it, but he has to keep cumming. his tummy feels so full… giyuu’s too brain dead to tell if it’s from your cum or from another orgasm building. a press against his tummy will have him shaking like crazy, holding it hard as he comes again. his body is so used, so tired, but it’s so soothing and cathartic. giyuu loves to be treated like a dumb little cumdump~

(and ps. as much as giyuu loves being fucked to tears of overstimulation, i think he’d cry at genuine slow sex. nothing too crazy, he just gets emotional at the love he’s feeling, and cries unconciously.

he’s embarrassed of it, but giyuu loves to be manhandled during sex. it drives him crazy when you toss him around like he’s nothing, and doesn’t mind if you’re rough enough to leave bruises, so long as you take care of them. he just doesn’t know how to ask you about these fantasies he has without sounding crazy… he daydreams of being slapped around by you. he just has a good enough poker face to hide it.)

[jyoongim]

I have a silly request: al continuously licking or nipping at reader's ear just to tease them bc he finds it cute making them twitch

but when reader goes to have their payback and pet al's ears, al just melts and goes full sub even when his pride is trying to deny it🥺

I wanted this to be super cutesy and fluffy, sorry if its super short ;)

Alastor enjoyed teasing you. Your surprised yelps and blushing face always gave him a good laugh. Especially, when it came to your ears.

You were currently reading a book on the couch in the lobby, while Alastor had a lone arm around your shoulders as he read the newspaper.

It was blissful silence.

But your ears always told your emotions, and whatever you were reading was getting to you. Your soft ears flicked and twitched as your eyes scanned the pages. You didn’t know that their movement had caught the demon’s attention.

Alastor watched with a soft smile as your ears moved. Sometimes they would twitch and flick about on your head, others be alert, or they would be relaxed.

Maybe it was the animal instincts, you were a doe in distress (youre literally read a book-) or maybe he found the faces you made so entertaining, because as you tilted your head back onto his shoulder;

Alastor tugged at your soft ear, sharp teeth nibbling at the appendage.

You paused your reading, trying to figure out what the demon was doing.

You gasped as his teeth were replaced by his lips and he grazed your ears softly, giving them a lick here and there.

”A-Alastor?” You tried to swat him away, shaking your head slightly to rid his assault on your ears.

Thinking maybe they were in his way, you pinned them to your head, hoping the action would tell him you were sorry.

But he was still nipping at the soft tips.

”S-Stop that” you said as he chuckled as your ear flicked in a trembling circle to get away from his mouth.

You huffed as he blew on them, swiveling your head around to finally look at him

”Something the matter my dear?” He asked. You pouted “Why are you petting me?” He let out a laugh, soundtrack rolling “Why my dear to see the entertaining faces you make of course!”

You continued to pout, trying to keep your ears as flat and away from him. The thought of how you were going to get your payback started to brew.

You found Alastor up in his radio tower, flipping through his scripts. 

You were on a mission. Pet the red tuffs that stood at the top of his head.

Alastor always was nipping at your ears. Tugging at them when you least expected it, laughing when you flicked them about or flattened, whining.

You were just gonna give him a piece of his own medicine.

You crept up behind him and your attention was on the tall tuffs.

Alastor must have sensed you and turned to around, his face dawning a soft smile. His lips fixed to greet you when the weight of your hands found his head. Your eyes were wide with curiosity as your fingers rubbed at the fuzzy tuffs.

Soft.

definitely were ears

 What you failed to notice was the record scratch Alastor had let out as you played with his ears.

The way you held his ears were quite a contrast on how he handle you.

You softly felt up his ears,  you didn’t tug them or pinch. 

Alastor pulled you into his lap as you petted him.

He was resting his head on your shoulder, letting you play with his ears, every so often twitching them when you teased the base.

”How come your ears don’t make you jittery?” You pouted.

You tugged a ear with your mouth, lips covering your teeth so its playful.

Alastor let out a deep purr and you mouthed on his ear (think like how babies teethed, just gummin it)

You giggled as you felt him melt, he was nuzzling into your neck, vibrations like a engine.

”Alastor…do you LIKE being petted?” You cooed, scratching his scalp.

He hid his face in your throat, giving you a growl

”No”

You caught sight of his shadow and as you toyed with his ears, his shadow seemed to whither in a smile on its face, eyes in the shapes of hearts.

You giggled “Your shadow is telling on you Al” you pressed your lips to his ears, enjoying how Alastor was practically a kitten.

Who knew the feared Radio Demon was such a softie

[jun3ee]

Smile for the camera

A/N: If you see the watermark and say smt- I’m hiding under your bed..ANYWAYS this was very rushed and last second, this request was from like a month ago so I’m so damn sorry, I’ll try to make a better vers but this is all I got, it’s just a short lil drabble 💕😪

MDNI ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚

I stare at the request in disbelief, everyone knew who Tom was at this point, he was such a major part in the industry.. Obviously not only known for his looks, but the serious length he had that got everyone infatuated. The way he fucked on camera was enough to get any living and breathing woman wet.. Maybe it was just dramaticized? He couldn't really be that good, right?  Oh god was I wrong…

“Say it again”

“I-I can’t!” 

I choke out, not even able to think from the way he’s ramming every single inch of his thick, veiny cock into my sopping cunt. His large hands dug deeply into my waist in a firm, bruising hold. Not letting go for the life of himself as the rhythm of his thrusts only get faster and faster, fucking me so well as whiny moans leave my parted lips, I was never this sloppy and pathetic…Shying away from the camera as he pulls my hair back,

“Tell them how good I’m fucking this little pussy, hm?”

“M-Mgh..” I choke out, gripping onto anything I can as his heavy balls slam against my sensitive clit with every thrust as I let out a yelp. Tom glances at the camera and looks at my fucked-out face, all that pretty makeup smudged, little beads of sweat forming as he smirks, watching my tight pussy stretch out on his thick cock, leaving a rough slap on my ass causing me to let out a whimper, slaps of skin and unholy moans filling the room as his pace mercilessly increases,

“Look at yourself, s’ch a fuckin’ slut, hm?”

He murmurs, his hand gripping my waist tightly as his other hand reaches out, pulling my head back and grasping my chin with his calloused hand, forcing me to look up and into his darkened eyes as he keeps thrusting harshly, watching my face hopelessly contort with pleasure as he smirks, his thick cock re-arranging my insides with a slight sting as my sopping-wet core adjusts. Every inch of his cock stuffed into my little cunt followed by him tracing hickeys on the crook of my neck and down my back.

“Fortfahren” (“Go ahead”)

He purrs out, abruptly stopping and sitting back… I should’ve remembered that damn script.. It was too late now.. How could I even remember when he was fucking me this good?

“H-Huh?” I choke out, glancing back at him as I whine from the sudden stop

“Fuck yourself with my cock, doll”

With no hesitation he pulls me on him, his length deeply buried in my core as I weakly bounce up and down, my legs already giving up as his girthy tip hits my cervix, his hand finding itself to my waist and guiding me, meanwhile his other hand snakes down my body, rubbing my neglected clit slowly and roughly as I let out a soft whimper. Looking directly into my eyes with his intimidating, darkened brown orbs, making me even more weaker than I already was.

“Atta’ girl” He says with a mouthy smirk, flicking his lip piercing, watching me as I whine pathetically moan on his cock.. At this point, neither of us cared about the script.. “Keep going slow f’me darling.. Don’t want you breaking down on me, do I?” 

“M-Mhmm..” I drag out… How pathetic I was to think he would take it slow? He abruptly starts thrusting up, holding my hips in place as he lets out a chuckle, his v-line flexing, the veins in his forearms popping, his cock coated with my slick as he keeps thrusting up into my tight little pussy, lewd sloshing sounds coming from the both of us as he holds me still,

“Mm- Tell them who’s fucking ya’ doll” Tom grunts out, his thrusting only getting rougher and rougher as he feels my walls tighten around his thick cock,

“I-I can’t” I choke out “P-Please”

“Such a fucking slut f’my cock this whole time and you cant even say my name? Yes you can” 

He groans out, still thrusting mercilessly as he looks directly into my eyes, his cock glistening with a coat of my slick.

“T-Tom K-Kaulitz..” I cry out, throwing my arms over his shoulder for stability, helplessly..

“C-Couldn’t hear ya’” He murmurs with a smirk, his thrusting getting more erratic as he reaches his climax, his face scrunching up slightly as he rides out his waves of pleasure, his cock throbbing inside of me as he shoots his thick white ropes of cum deep into my tight pussy with a groan, watching it drip down the sides of his shaft as it overfills me, fucking his seed into my cunt as his hips roll up slowly…

“T-Tom...K-Kaulitz..!”