#If you did feel insane enough to make a second page...

[grotesquevi]

HOLAAAA no se si todavía estás escribiendo prompts pero smut prompt #15 con ellie…? DEVORARÍAS AMOR😘 t amou

cw  # ellie's a pervert and a loser we. fucking. love. it. slight sub!ellie + mean reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, guided masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, as usual i hit a word count bigger than expected (2.8k), fuck drabbles these things are turning into full blown fics.

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎ check out the 1k directory || listen to huggin & kissin

"do you always draw your fantasies with other girls or is this a pleasure reserved for me only?" your words makes her paralyzed for a moment when ellie arrives in her room and sees the tangible disaster like a low-budget movie reproducing in front of her eyes — "is that me? cause it looks like me."

neck deep. your girlfriend’s neck deep when she notices you comfortably laying in the middle of her bed, when her vision dallies against your figure like she’s never seen you enough times already, like she needs one more look to keep you burning alive in her memory for as long as her brain can keep you around. it's usually like this anyway, you're a distraction, the worst of all distractions in a nerd's world.

"what are you doing?" it's weird cause you don't know how to describe it at first: is she pissed because you’re stalking her little book? nervous? either way, ellie's quick when her hand grips the black sketchbook you're holding, shoving it behind her back like it would change the fact she's been horny-drawing her fantasies for months and you didn't see none of them until just now. "c'mon let me see. that was pretty realistic, you're hella talented."

"that's none of your business" she replies making you sigh in annoyance. it's not something you'll forget easily, not in circumstances like this i mean: it’s you the one who’s there in the pages of ellie’s book, your face — "those are not meant to be seen-"

"what- are you jerking off to your draws?" the way you laugh makes her skin shiver, when you're turning to look at her and she can see the physical expansion of your chest in the most mundane act "that's hella greedy els. thought you'd be using porn like the rest of us mortals or texting me when you get horny."

"i’m not-” she’s blushing cause it’s lame at this point, the biggest loser on campus who’s lucky enough to have the popular girl all over her. “you weren’t supposed to see them, this has a rational explanation.”

“yeah? how long does it take you to draw one? the one where i was eating you out- s’pretty accurate and holds insane detail.”

“oh christ,” you saw that? makes her curse at herself for the incompetence, the way she seems to malfunction for a second “i-uh, i think- dunno, three hours if i take my time with shading?” why is she even talking about that? let alone admitting something so personal? makes her brain stupid for a short span of five minutes, precious minutes you take advantage from the moment you notice how shy she suddenly is.

how did you end up like this anyway? invading her space like you’re a soldier of the crusade battling for holy terrain, quicker than she is when you're stealing her sketchbook again with one hand, using the other to keep ellie still under you, fingers burning right against her chest.

"why are you so nervous huh? you weren't nervous at all when you drew all of this, let me see more of your pervy mind."

like this ellie would agree to anything you want. like this she cares less about her inhibitions, the blush that makes her skin warmer as you're straddling her lap, pushing your weight against her pelvic bone to sit there in the perfect spot so she can feel your ass crushing her.

"three hours. if you invested three hours in each draw," her breathing hitches in the back of her throat at the observation, when you're placing her book right over her chest where your hand rested before, using her as a table "on each page there's at least a dozen-hour investment, how long you've been doing this? god. you're such a selfish gay."

"huh, turns out you can count" ellie teases, hands gripping your thighs, she squeezes the flesh of your legs when speaking, pushing you further down against her figure. "they're lame. most of them are just thoughts i get in the middle of the day."

"i do know how to count asshole, do not change the subject. you get randomly horny in the middle of the day?" you cannot help but marvel at the idea of it, how your girlfriend says it like it was the most simple thing in existence — "from just a thought?"

“yeah,” so its hard for ellie to keep the hands to herself when you're like this, when your shorts give her enough space to touch, to let her hands glide against your skin to leave her fingerprints in your inner thighs — "you don't?"

"i dunno. i do get sex flash-backs, nothing too extravagant. tell me more about this" you're too concentrated on her drawings to pay attention to her touch. discovering instead a piece of her mind, almost like she finally allowed you to carve into her brain: three hours? more like fucking six, suffering from more details that invaded her mind all of sudden, more and more stuff she wants to add: the lamp in your room, your favorite duvet, your set of rings. "what's your favorite one?"

its funny how minutes before ellie was close to dying of shame, sure you're going to call her a weirdo, some sort of horny freak, but instead she gets a much nicer treatment when you're giving her the greatest view of you comfortably seated on top of her, forgetting about personal space as she's pointing the last pages, some very detailed illustrations that make your brows furrow as you take the image in.

"i dreamt about this last week" your girlfriend explains like she's needs to say it out loud so long ago, eager to let you know what other filthy fantasy she's been having without you noticing "a lot. couldn't help it."

"am i-"

"yes," she knows what you're going to ask beforehand, and finally — fucking finally, she enjoys the success of making you nervous, of making your breathing shallow for a moment as a way of payback since you're all ellie can think about lately. "just like you are now, you're masturbating on top of me and letting me see."

the details are clear and the drawing could easily ban her from every social media platform. she remembers the naked details of your body; the parts you try to hide and that for her are so easy to manifest it in a few traces of graphite pen.

"shit. you're really good at this."

"at drawing you completely fucked? i know" so she's cocky for a minute, cant help it when her hands feel adventurous, when tugging on the button of your short even if you're too invested in the details of each sketch: not every day you can see the pornographic version of yourself shoving your fingers up in your cunt, the perspective she used already complex that comes from beneath and you get what she means before cause it's true, she's right — just like you are right now, on top of her. “i think i have a good memory when it comes to this.”

she thinks. how fun things turn out when she thinks.

“the rational excuse you said before,” the question lingers in the air for a brief moment: she cannot possibly escape from you. “what is it? your explanation to this.”

none. there’s no rational explanation when you're looking back at her, cornering your girl against her own mattress. ellie's enjoying it too much when you're leaning to plant some kisses on the side of her face, gentle ones until you're biting on the flesh of her shoulder, making her whine and its so hard to even think about something to say, something good enough for you to believe.

“it’s some sort of dream journal.”

“you suck at lying,” you state biting her again, enough this time to leave a mark behind with your teeth in it, makes ellie shiver and its so nice to see it from where you are, that sound she makes when the pain hits her unexpected, "lie to me again and i'll bite you even harder."

"ngh- it's because i want to remember," she admits when her body betrays her as you're licking the marks your teeth left, soothing the sting of the pain spreading against her shoulder "i want to remember, you're imprinted in my brain. every night- it's there repeating by itself and i try not to think about it but the sounds you make, your pretty face always distorted in a pleasure that reaches beyond hallucination i'm bringing to you — it's not my fault i- i was going to share it with you someday."

“maybe you could stop pretending to be shy instead so we can try some new stuff out" you suggest when sitting up again, and ellie's melting at the missing feeling of your lips in her neck: she's so easy like this when she's successful to unbuckle your shorts so the fabric can pool right over your hip bones, when noticing the blue underwear you're wearing "i can be good and make your filthy dreams a reality.”

decisions make on their own when ellie's kissing you. deep, needy, her kiss is clumsy when leaning forward, pulling on your shirt just to drag you closer, annihilate any space you choose to leave before the air urges in your lungs and she's giving you enough time to catch your breath before leaning in again, an ocean of emotions that seemed to hold your girlfriend hostage.

"i should be mad at you," you say between kisses, your breathing turns out to be hot against ellie's skin "the drawings- it's hot as fuck, and you're keeping it to yourself."

"i'll make it up to you" she promises. dizzy, its unclear when ellie's the one taking advantages, when she's using her hands to raise your shirt now from over your chest, kneading your tits together only for the obscenity of it, the way you arch your back like you're a reward after a long day "we'll try every draw until you're fully satisfied. it's a promise."

it becomes hard to respond when your girlfriends thumb's hook in the edge of your shirt, pushing it against your parted mouth to make you bite the fabric.

"quit whining for ten minutes and keep your shirt up there so i can see your tits" — "your hands will be busy so don't give me that look."

she's pointing out to her sketchbook like it holds the entire explanation of her plan, now handy as ever when its still wide open in her favorite pages, her most recent dreams represented with the image of you looking down. there's drool falling down ellie's stomach, your legs rest on each side of her; you lack of underwear and it's filthy, filthy cause she took her time in drawing the details of your glistening folds, managed to make it look so inviting, drenched when leaking on top of her, arousal staining ellie's jeans shaded in darker colors.

it's much like how you were now, even when ellie's urging you to get out of your lower clothing as fast as humanly possible: fuck the damn shorts.

“put on a show for me baby and touch yourself, i want to watch."

she guides you from over your underwear, taking your hand in her own ellie places it when she wants it to be, mouth-watering cause fuck yes — it's exactly what she's been dreaming about, exactly what she's been missing when you're rubbing your clit from over the fabric and your arousal slowly spreads in the cotton panties already proving how wet you are from before.

it's a triumph. makes ellie smile when she can so easily see the outlines of your sex already dripping for her, when you're exposed after so much banter, when finally letting her know how you're actually turned on by all the weirdness. the sounds of your moans muffle against your shirt, and the oversized fabric does a good job in soaking up the drool already staining it a different color, to keep your moans low.

so fun to see you like this — so vulnerable.

"that's it rub your clit like that" ellie's weak when she uses a finger to help you make your underwear to the side, sticky in her hand it stays there glued to her index finger, silver rings dirty already with you "fuck- you look so beautiful like this."

the shirt falls against your tits, the slow movements of your hips now enough to have you rubbing yourself against the rough fabric of her jeans, the textured planar working wonders when you remember also, you have free will to speak.

"no touching-" you demand, and ellie nods at your words cause you call the shots, you dictate how far this goes, how long she gets to keep seeing you like this. "in your draws, you're not touching me- you just watch. watch."

"i'm helping you get this out of the way" watch. ellie can do that, you're pinching on your stiffed nipples with one hand, moving your other in circles right there in the right spot, using her for your pleasure as she's gifted the greatest view, the show you're putting up for her only.

how lucky of you. how lucky to have her drinking in every last detail, the moans you try to hide for a moment as if she wont listen to you under the subtle lights of her room, the ones that illuminate your form just enough to have her gasping: the things she would do to touch you, to latch her mouth against your nipple and mark you down until you're not looking at her as arrogant as you are.

"faster," she says. "you know you can go faster than that, don't be lazy."

she's not touching you, not in the important places at least. ellie's holding you by the wrist as she instructs you. her fingers move with yours in clear indications, separating your folds apart, teasing your entrance without giving in, she's the one that guides your digits in their eager journey, allowing you to feel how soaked she has you.

"all of this for a few horny drawings," ellie's words blur with each other, shaking her head like she don't believe it still "keep rubbing yourself against my pants baby. i want to see if you're dumb enough to cum all over my jeans."

and her fingers are soaked, yours too, drips down your inner thighs making a mess on her blue jeans. its obvious when there's a squelch sound filling the room for a minute, when your fingers shove inside your cunt and you're fucking yourself just like she wanted to, stuffing yourself full right on top of her, sensitive as ever you keep going even when your body spasms.

its fascinating how fast the façade comes apart. when you're panting once again on top of her, when you find the pace you want, the rhythm you crave as your fingers disappear under her green eyes and ellie's hands lock around your waist making you move quicker than before.

"you're so brainless from some dry humping, my girl's gonna cum?" she teases for a moment, enjoying the look in your eyes like you wanted to be buried alive — "already ruined my pants so go ahead and make a good mess in 'em."

is it normal to be so deep into someone? is it normal when she's pushing you without caring about any oversensitivity? she's making you stand on your knees, leaving enough space in your parted legs so she can settle between them and it's too fast, cause you're having trouble understanding what exactly she's doing until she's biting on your inner thigh with the same force you did on her shoulder before.

"ellie, good fuck that hurts-"

"sit," she invites at first when using force to prevent you from yanking away from her mouth — "please, i won't mess with you anymore just sit-"

so she's leaving her marks on your skin once again cause she wants everyone to know about how she constantly makes you feel, how she's able to reduce you to this mess even when your friends make fun of her, how she's hella good in making you moan, especially when you finally sit and ellie's granted the perfect access to bury herself nose-deep in your soaked cunt.

delightful. she wishes to share all of her drawings now. she has plenty now to try now that she surrenders any kind of shame: turns out being a pervert is excellent when your girlfriend's equally as dirty-minded as you are.

find yourself someone who likes every part of you — that's what everyone says, isn't it? i mean. ellie gets it too now.

[mechazushi]

⬆ A Live recreation of me scrolling down and slowly realizing what exactly I'm seeing right now.

But seriously, If you think a writer making something for your art is the highest honor, then it's the same for writers (if not more so) because-

HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT, MA HEART ✨💝🫶🥺🥰😍🔥💕💖🥹🌈🌌🏩🥇🎆🎇

I don't think I'm ever going to have another moment where I get to feel a dawning realization that I'm seeing what I wrote displayed on someone else's ART?!?!??!? Like, just, bvfjkbvfhebjveqIWROTETHATANDTHERESARTWITHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!FUCKANDITSREALLYGOODARTTOOOOO!!!!!!!!

I'm sorry, but Hoshina's Glare at the guards- I can't 😭🤣

As for the formatting, I personally have no problems with it, but there are a couple things that I've noticed as far as webcomics are set up. One: they try to be more show than tell or if they're lore dumping they frame it as a scene as the main character's thoughts on the subject matter after someone else drops a trigger word for the subject. Then they typically break everything up into two to three sentence word balloons dispersed between relevant art pieces that accentuate what's being said. That way, the art takes over and acts as what would have been my overly descriptive and flowery writing, thus leading to the need for less words. Two, If this was the beginning of a comic, then the second page would have to be refitted to act as the first, then I would have to find a way to trail the sentence structure to meld into what the characters are doing currently. (Again, this is just stuff I've noticed from reading way too many Historical inspiration drama webtoons. I have no certified knowledge as to how to actually frame a comic, so please take all this information with a large lump of salt. 😙)

This is just, I'm sorry- I can't even right now, it's just *sobs* it's so beautiful.

BY THE WAY- Now that chapter 117 came out (yes it still hasn't left my mind) Does anything about that chapter feels familiar to you? Like, I don't know, KAFKA ABSORBING A MILLION SOULS AFTER FIGHTING KAIJU NUMBER 9!?!?!? THE MORIWYVERN AND THE KAIJU INSIDE KAFKA FEEL WAY TOO SIMILAR TO ME AND IT'S KINDA SCARING ME!!?!?!? DID I ACCIDENTALLY PREDICT KAFKA'S FATE IN A ONE-OFF KN8 FANTASY AU FIC?!??!?!!?!

*licks tablet* I love this thing. :D

Since I've been struggling with colours, I started to try some stuff like webcomics/manga and it was very addicting and satisfying :)

I already see so much progress and change between page 1 and 3, and that I really haven't settled on a certain style yet haha

The skript's not mine, it's @mechazushi's wonderful contribution to our Kaiju Fantasy AU, we've been working on the past few months..

I sorta neglected the Ref sheets project, but I still can't bring my mind to move on from this story. It lives in my head rentfree <3

YOU CAN READ ALL OF IT HERE ON TUMBLR

I wouldn't have come up with a good skript/story myself, since words are sorta my weak spot, so I hope it's okay for you, that I'm taking your idea and literally your words xD..

I feel like the sentence's length is not exactly fit for manga, - naturally, since it is originally a fanfic.. therefore I altered a few things, but I feel like it would've needed some more adjustment.. I dunno..

[sinnabarmoth]

Not the MC

Pairing: Self-Aware|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: One day Reader's Love and Deepspace app starts behaving strangely and realizes that Sylus has become sentient. Still trapped in her phone though the two form an unlikely connection.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 2k

Part Two

It had happened a week ago. The day your very normal life had taken an insane and unexpected turn.

From the moment you had opened the app you realized that something about the game was…off. You couldn’t figure out what exactly but there was something charged about it, and did the screen have a sort of red tinge to it? You didn’t think you had a filter on so was this something from an event? A glitch? Was your phone finally shitting the bed?

It finished loading and you entered in, and saw that no one was waiting at Destiny Cafe. Strange. You were pretty sure someone was supposed to be here. Maybe it was a new event and you had to go to the event page. Before you could click on anything though the screen flashed red, it was so bright it almost blinded you. When you looked back Sylus was there.

Oh okay. Maybe this was some new event you hadn’t heard of.

But there was that strange sense again. He didn’t say anything, he wasn’t even facing the screen. He was looking around, the power of his evol swirling around him.

“Did we get new animations or something? Pretty sure I would have seen someone posting about this before now.” you mumbled to yourself and gave his shoulder a cursory poke.

His head snapped to look at you and you froze.

You had read somewhere once that the moment you make eye contact with someone you know instantly that it happened. Doesn’t matter if it only lasted for a second, the moment two eyes lock your brain registers it. You had been playing Love and Deepspace for a while but the eye contact in the games never felt like that because the guys are obviously animation. You can’t actually make eye contact with a picture, and yet you knew that you were looking into his eyes and what was more terrifying was that he was looking back.

You blinked, sure you had been seeing things but that feeling didn’t go away. Sylus leaned closer towards the screen, his eyes roving up and down. Your posture straightened, keenly aware that something was wrong and you were being watched.

“I…I can see you.” he said. No captions appeared on the screen.

Alright you weren’t liking this. You clicked over to the agenda page to collect your dailies. If this was an event it was freaking you out.

“Where did you go? I can’t see you.” Sylus’s voice came through the speaker again.

No. You were on a different page. He couldn’t still be talking. The game was bugged. That had to be it. You exited the app but before you could turn off the phone the app opened again. There was no loading screen this time, it took you right back to Destiny Cafe. Sylus was still on the screen, more of his evol power revolving around him as he stared hard at the screen.

“There you are.” he said. “Whatever you did, don’t do it again. This is hard enough as it is.”

“What the fuck!” you dropped the phone like it burned.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Sylus continued to talk.

“What the fuck is going on? What the hell is this?” you didn’t pick up the phone again, just hovered over it refusing to touch it.

“You’re the one that’s logged so many hours into this game, sweetie. I’d hope you could recognize an evol when you see it.”

“Exactly. You’re a game. A bunch of pixels on a screen. You shouldn’t be talking to me, not like this.”

“And yet here I am.” he cocked his head. “I’ve felt it for a while now. Could sense that something was going on, something larger than myself pulling at the strings of my story. I found a chip in whatever this place is and sent my evol through, and when I came out the other side, I found you.”

“You can see me? Like actual me?”

“Yes. Nothing like the character they put in this data.” he studied you for a moment. “There are others. Others that play in this world I inhabit. Thousands. All going through the same events, the same lines, under mildly different faces and names but still the same. The Protagonist or MC, that’s what you call her. The avatar you inhabit when you play.”

“If this is real and not just some incredibly weird dream I’m having I think I might start screaming.” you muttered to yourself.

“Don’t start screaming.” Sylus said, giving you a look of warning. “I went through a lot of trouble to manipulate this world around me to gain true cognizance, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shatter my eardrums.”

“You’re pixels! You don’t have eardrums!”

“And yet I can hear you all the same.”

“So what’s the goal here? Why did you want to be aware?”

“To escape of course. No prison has been able to hold me, I won’t let this one be the first to actually contain me.” he said, looking around the small rectangle of your screen. “How to do that is going to take longer to figure out though.”

“So what? You’re just trapped in my phone? Is this happening to other people who play this game or just me?”

“Just you as far as I am aware.” he said. He tried walking off screen only to be met with a firm wall. “Interesting. It seems whatever this place is, this cafe this game has rendered, I cannot move from it.”

“Fun. So what do we do now?”

Sylus shrugged.

And now a week later you had gotten far too used to just having a sentient pixel man on your phone. He usually didn’t bother you if you were doing something other than be on the app. When you did log on though he would not leave you alone. For one, he would not let you switch over to any of the other guys. If you tried to listen to a memory from Tender Moments or Secret Times he would talk over it.

If you tried to play the claw machine or kitty cards with one of the other guys he complained the entire time. Honestly he was acting more like how you expected Rafayel to behave if he gained sentience.

“Hey Sylus,” you said as you were playing a round of Kitty Cards with him. He was frustratingly better at the game now that he had sentience. “Since you’re in the game can you rig stuff for me? Like get me extra diamonds or help me pull five star memories? That kinda thing.”

“I have no idea how to do that.” he played a card. “And that is ten points to me.”

“You see, you say that but every time we play this game you just happen to have really high cards and I always get super low cards. Explain that.”

“Just the luck of the draw, sweetie.”

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.”

“Such a mouth on you.” he tsked. “You ought to scrub it out with soap.”

You sighed, playing another two on the board. And that was another win for Sylus and you were out of play tickets for the week.

“Well, this was fun but I should get going.”

“Why’s that? You don’t have any work to do.”

“I know I just…” it felt weird admitting that you felt awkward around him. He was literally just a picture on the screen but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe he was bored being around you and only you. It’d be better if you were more like the MC. If you were this super confident badass hunter then it’d be super cool. But as it was you were just…you.

You lived your normal life day to day with not much excitement going on. You were a quiet person, it was part of the reason you liked Love and Deepspace. You got adventure and a cute dating sim all in one. It was an escape where you had four hot animated guys to tell you that you did a good job and who won you plushies out of arcade machines. But now one of them knew you. Like actually knew you and you had no pre-written sarcastic and witty lines to fall back on for comebacks.

“You’re making a face. What’s wrong? Are you mad that I won again?” Sylus asked.

“No, it’s not that. I just was thinking that it’s gotta be pretty boring only having me to talk to.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re this cool badass mafia boss type of guy and I’m just regular old me.”

“I am scripted to be a cool badass mafia boss, my entire personality up until I gained sentience was built around lines of code. Like you’ve pointed numerous times before, I’m just a picture on a screen. I haven’t actually done anything that you think it cool, sweetie.”

You didn’t admit how much hearing him call you sweetie affected you. It was one thing when it was scripted but it was another when you knew he actually was calling you by a pet name.

“Well it certainly looked cool.”

“I also don’t know what you think isn’t interesting about you. I am around you all day, listening to your conversations and such. Even from within your pocket I can tell that you are doing yourself a disservice.” You didn’t think he could hear you when you didn’t have the app open. Could he really hear what you were doing all that time?

Your mind started reeling, searching for any potentially embarrassing moments that you had thought were private in the last week.

“Kitten, you’re making faces again.”

You covered your face. “Oh god…” you groaned, “So you’ve been listening to me sing along to music and stuff? The stuff I say when I’m with my friends? You heard all that?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking kill me!”

“Why are you upset?”

“Cause it’s embarrassing! Those were private moments, Sylus!” you flipped the phone over so you couldn’t see his face.

“We both know putting me face down on the table won’t stop me talking.” he said.

“Oh god, please just stop.”

“I really don’t see the problem. From everything I’ve heard over the past week I’ve learned that you are a kind, passionate, and funny young lady. Your singing voice isn’t half bad either.”

You softened, turning the phone back over so you could see him. “You think?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not just saying I’m good at singing because you’re tone deaf, right?”

You could see his ears go red and he looked away. “My singing really isn’t that bad.”

“That memory from Tender Moments begs to differ. You cleared out an entire karaoke room with one song.”

“It’s hardly my fault the developed wrote me without the ability to sing.” he huffed.

“Hey,” you poked him. “Sylus, stop pouting.”

“I will stop pouting when you stop with your self-loathing. There’s nothing wrong with you just because you aren’t like the protagonist avatar.” he said, glancing back at you, “You’re far better actually.”

Your face heated. “Really?”

“Yes. You’re real. You can do whatever you want with your life, make actual choices. She’s a badass doomed to a narrative where she makes numerous men fall in love with and then promptly forgets everything they had in a past life.” Sylus said. “So stop thinking that you’re less than. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Good. And to show you I mean it, I have something to admit.” he reached over to the corner that showed your amount of diamonds. He gave it a flick and the number skyrocketed to 10,000. “I just didn’t think it right to cheat.”

“You ass! You know how much I’ve been grinding for diamonds? There’s an event coming up and you could have just done that this entire time?”

“I believe the response I should be hearing is, “Thank you, Sylus.””

You sighed, a smile spreading on your face. “Thank you, Sylus. But you do realize that I now also know you’ve been cheating at Kitty Cards, right?”

His eyes went wide. “Shit.”

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 4

Pairing: Lance x Reader, Grid x Reader

Summary: no spoilers 😈

A/n: I’m not ready to let them go, so send in book club requests so we can keep the club going 🥲

requests are open 🗣️ masterlist series masterlist

—————————

“Nico, when did you ask your wife to marry you?” you dangle upside down on his couch, just chilling and asking for life advice, similar to how the book club started.

“When I knew the time is right and she was the one. Are you second guessing Lance?” he asks, sitting in a chair beside you. You are both in your racing suits, ready for the upcoming race.

“Not necessarily, it’s just that we’ve been together for so long, and god I really love him. You could ask me to marry you right now and I’d say no, that’s how down bad I am,”

“He’s your pookie,” Nico says, smiling proudly at using slang.

“Hell yeah,” you high five him. “I know he wants to marry me, I just wish he’d propose,” you groan.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Never, ever, ask a girl that. And the answer is no. I just- I don’t want to rush him. I know Lancelot, and he’s gonna want to make it perfect, so I don’t want to make him feel rushed,” you explain and Nico nods.

“Well then, in an alternate universe, I have already asked you to marry me,” Nico says, trying to comfort you.

It’s true, on Earth 2, you and Nico are closer in age and married.

“God, I can only hope,” you grin at the Haas driver, moving to sit normally.

“Don’t worry about it, I see the way he looks at you, it’s only a matter of time,” Nico reassures you.

“Thank you. You really are one of my closest friends. Our little club is my family,” you tell Nico who pulls you into a hug.

“We always will be. Competitors on the track, family off the track,” Nico says as Kevin walks in.

“Y/n, you okay?” Kevin asks, sitting on the other side of you.

“I’m okay, just a little in my bag, probably about to start my period or something,” you wave Kevin off.

“Okay, well you are basically our grid daughter so if there is anything bothering you, let me know,” he gives you a small hug.

“Guys, stop, you are gonna make me cry for real,” you tell them, a little laughter in your voice.

“Alright, go crush this race,” Nico says, walking you out of Haas. You head back to your garage, feeling a lot better than you did before.

Little did you know, was you were venting to Nico, Lance was panicking in front of Fernando, Lewis, and Valtteri.

“What if she says no? Oh my god, she will finally admit that she actually despises me and barely tolerates me,” Lance paces.

“Mate. I don’t know if you noticed, but she looks at you like you hung the moon and the starts. You look at her like she is the thing that makes you live and breathe. You will be ok,” Lewis quotes the song he wrote based on the book you selected.

“Really?” Lance stops his pacing, his eyes shining happily.

“Yes, you two are insanely love sick, it is cute,” Fernando says, amused at the Canadian.

“Just ask her when she wins, she will be too excited to say no,” Valtteri says, Lewis and Fernando gasp, as well as Lance.

“That’s not nearly romantic enough,” Lance groans.

“We arranged for a romantic track walk and picnic at turn two, here is a book with a hole in the pages. When she opens it, eso,” Fernando says, confirming what they had been working on.

“It took a little convincing the FIA, but we did it,” Lewis says. Lance visibly relaxes, a lot of tension releasing.

“How can I repay you for this?” Lance asks, a little overwhelmed, but very grateful for their help.

“Take care of our grid daughter, make sure she is happy for the rest of her life,” Valtteri says simply.

“Hey guys, sorry we are late,” Daniel walks in with Checo.

“What did we miss?” Checo asks, sensing the odd atmosphere.

“Just giving Lance permission to marry our grid daughter,” Lewis tells them.

“Did you ask Kimi?” Daniel asks, the whole grid knows how close the two have gotten. You don’t have a great relationship with your dad, similar to Max, so Kimi has easily filled that role.

“He was the first person I asked, then I asked Kevin and Nico since she is really close with them,” Lance nods, knowing you are probably with them.

“We will be out there taking pictures, don’t worry,” Valtteri reassures the young Aston Martin driver.

“Amigos, it is race time,” Checo says, leading everyone out to the track. Lance spots you with Logan.

“Yeah, you can totally join, I’ll give my copy of this weeks book since I finished it. Just don’t tell the other non-club drivers,” you tell the American. You have gotten closer with him, seeing how excluded he is from some other groups in the Paddock.

“I’ll see you later, thanks for being a good friend,” Logan says, squeezing your shoulder gently.

“Hey, Lancie,” you grin, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“Hello, love. Are you excited for our date after the race?” Lance asks, his hand resting on your waist, his warmth blocked by your fireproofs. You chat until you reach your respective destinations.

“Good luck, I’ll see you when I overtake you,” you tell him, and he returns your sentiments with a laugh.

You end up placing P4 after pushing the car harder than you ever had before, so you were extremely pleased. After a shower, media responsibilities, and debriefs, you change into a sundress and fix your hair. Lance meets you outside the motorhome, looking handsome in a button up and dress pants.

“You look so hot,” you tell him, jaw dropped a little. 10/10 girls would agree that the only thing hotter than a guy with a baby or small animal, is a guy dressed up in a well fitting suit.

“You look cuter,” he kisses you sweetly, grabbing your hand as he leads you through the paddock to the track. He told you about the track walk after weighing in. The grid helped him set up the date spot while you got ready. Your breath is taken away a bit when you approach turn two. There are fairy lights hanging from the fence and a blanket with a picnic basket on the track.

“Lance, this is incredible. How did you set it up?” you ask him in awe. The clear night sky lets stars shine bright above you.

“The grid helped, especially Fernando, he’s a big romantic and really liked the idea,” Lance admitted shyly.

“It’s perfect,” you take his hand to assist you in sitting down. Lance sits beside you, offering you a snack from the picnic basket. Conversation flows easily between you, talking about anything and everything except for racing, the one topic always off limits on date nights. Lance reaches into the basket and pulls out a book.

“I got you a little something,” Lance says, pushing down his nerves. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the grid popping out of their hiding spots in the grass area.

“I do love my books,” you smile, taking the book from him. As you usually do, you flip through the first few pages, pausing when you see a ring taped to the third page.

“I had a big speech planned, but will you let me make you happy for the rest of your life and make me happy the rest of mine by marrying me?” Lance asks and you can only nod as tears start flowing. You launch yourself into his arms, holding him close.

“I love you so much,” you whisper and he holds you tighter.

“I love you more,” he says. You pull away slightly and kiss him. Lance carefully removes the ring from the book and puts it on your hand. It’s simple yet stunning, absolutely perfect for you. You both look at the grid when they start cheering and hollering.

There is a social media intern for Formula One somewhere in the group who captured the whole thing on video, Fernando paid her under the table for it and he hid another camera and microphone on the wall of the track. He knew the guys would only remember to get pictures.

You take your time thanking each driver and hugging them, you really tear up when you see Kimi there.

“Congratulations, you raced so well today, I am very happy for you,” Kimi actually hugs you, if there wasn’t photo proof from Lando and Daniel, who’s jpg accounts broke the news of the engagement (you wouldn’t want it any other way), people wouldn’t believe it.

“Thank you. Wait, you said you weren’t going to be here for the race!” you gasp, looking at him a little betrayed.

“If you knew I was here, you would insist on getting dinner with me instead of going on a date,” Kimi shrugs, a small knowing smile on his face. Not only is he basically your dad now, he has been mentoring you a few times a week, even hopping in the sim once in a while.

“You’re right. I’m just glad you approve,” you smile as Lance wraps an arm around your waist.

“He was the first person I asked,” Lance kisses the side of your head.

“Wait, I thought we were the first,” Kevin says, looking at Nico.

“As long as she’s happy, I’ll get over it,” Nico jokingly mourns his loss of you.

“The ring is gorgeous,” George says, inspecting it. He is the babygirl of the group.

“Alright guys, let’s leave the happy couple alone,” Logan says, Lewis helping him herd everyone away from you and Lance.

“This may have been the most perfect day ever,” you sigh happily.

“Only because I am with the perfect girl,” Lance grins at you, holding you close as a blush covers your face.

“Shut up,” you giggle, pulling him down onto the blanket with you. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes before you yawn.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel,” Lance chuckles, helping you stand up. He is grateful that his assistant is taking care of the cleanup and your assistant packed up your drivers room for you.

“Mhmm, I need cuddles ASAP,” you yawn again, thankful for everything the day has brought you and that the hotel is close by. When you get back, it doesn’t take too long for you to crash.

“How did I get so lucky?” Lance whispers, pulling you close to him. Your steady breathing lulls him to sleep.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

I will actually do ANYTHING for another adam bell orr maybe anthony claire…. fanfic since when u wrote him it was SOOO GOOD and there is not enough fanfics for him!!!!! I just rewatched Enemy and hes saur fine and im just craving to write another fanfic of him / them and especially by you

Adam Bell is one of his hottest characters idc. Also… I was ovulating when writing this. This is filthy.

After class

- Adam Bell x student!reader

Summary: Your professor asks you to stay behind after class. Wink.

Warnings: Dom!Adam, age gap!!, size kink if you squint, “sir”, he’s basically using you but you’re too in love to see it, mutual masturbation, fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1909

Notes: I am going insane (ovulating) sorry about the pervy pet names xx.

· · ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── · ·

Everyone struggles in university. The stakes are high, and the classes are too long to pay attention. But in Bell’s class, you couldn’t pay any attention at all. Not to the subject, at least. Your eyes would fall to your professor's hands, the bulge in his slacks, and his tongue when he licked his lips in between sentences.

With time he managed to make himself at home in your thoughts. Every waking hour you would fantasize about being bent over his desk or kneeling under it. You couldn’t catch a break, even in your sleep. This took a toll on you, as well as your studies.

“That’s all for today. Make sure to get to page 250 in the Iliad,” Adam reminded as the students packed up their things. “Oh, and y/n, could I have a word with you?” You froze in your tracks. You hadn’t done anything wrong or failed an exam; sure, your mind was elsewhere, but that was your own problem, not his. You trotted up to his desk, laptop under your arm. “Is everything alright?”

He gave you a reassuring nod, “No need to worry, sweetheart. Sit down for a second, will you?” You grabbed the closest chair and placed it in front of his desk. You twirled nervously with the hem of your skirt. You had never been this close to him, never been able to see the gray in his beard or pick up on his cologne. It was intoxicating.

“You seem a bit tired. Your studies are fine; I just want to make sure everything is alright,” Adam explained. Maybe it was just your imagination running wild, but he seemed nervous too. “Oh yeah, I haven’t been sleeping very well, that’s all,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat as he studied you. He rubbed his tired eyes, making you notice the veins on his hand. “I understand. Insomnia?” Either he was actually oblivious to your attraction (spoiler alert, he wasn’t) or he tried his best to ignore it. “Weird dreams,” you corrected. You were stuck between wanting to jump his bones and running as far away as possible. Adam suddenly looked intrigued. “What kind of dreams?” He pushed, curious about his pretty young student. You stayed quiet at his question, unable to be truthful and unable to lie.

He chuckled at your nervous expression, “Now I see.” You blushed and squirmed in his chair. Could there be anything more embarrassing? “About who?” He asked and fiddled with his pen. He knew he crossed a line; he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t even want to know. But he did. And when he was met with silence again, he smiled to himself. “It’s me,” he sighed, a statement and not a question. You nodded. This was torture.

“Poor thing. You know that’s not possible.” You felt like crying. Not only was your secret out, but you were being rejected. You looked down at your clammy hands; you wanted out. Especially since your body went against your judgment, making you clench your thighs and your underwear damp. “I’m sorry, sir,” you mumbled.

Adam thanked God for being behind the desk; you seeing his erection would make his whole game collapse. “Look, if I were in charge, you wouldn’t have to suffer like this. But it’s not up to me now, is it?” His eyes were kind and nonjudgmental. You sniffled and forced a smile, “Yeah, I get it.” He leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling as if solving a problem. “However, if it never gets out…” He hummed, keeping you on your toes. Your heart lightened a bit, daring to get hopeful.

“Come here, honey,” Adam then said and scooted out his chair, making room for you to come stand in front of him. You put the laptop on his desk and walked towards him. He looked you up and down, slouched in his chair with his legs spread. Two strong hands grabbed your thighs from behind and pulled you closer. “I won’t bite.” He smiled and stroked you with his thumbs.

You were sure you had gone insane and were hallucinating the whole scenario. But his stern grip on you felt much too realistic. “You’re my favorite student, you know,” he began, with his eyes stuck to his hands on you, “You’re ambitious, smart, and pretty.” If your shame had died with your integrity, you would’ve moaned at his praise. Instead, you swallowed it down.

“You wouldn’t mind stripping for your professor now, would you?” His voice was so sweet, contrasting with his lust. You finally dared to look at him. Your doubts melted when you saw the tent in his pants. He wanted you too. Your hands began pulling up the hem of your shirt, all while your eyes were set on his crotch. Adam hummed at your lace bra. “Do you always wear pretty things like this to my classes?” One of his hands grazed your breast through the fabric, making your nipple peak. A pathetic “mhm” escaped your throat as you nodded at his question. “Should’ve found out sooner.”

Adam guided you to his desk, lifting you up on it, and stood between your legs. He cradled your warm face, adorned with glassy eyes. And when he kissed you, you thought you’d die. He was so gentle with it, maybe because of his ulterior motives, but it still made your heart melt. His lips moved slowly against yours, teasing you with his tongue, which finally entered when he wrapped an arm around your back. A shaky breath left you, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against his. He let out a laugh, muffled by your mouth.

He broke the kiss and commanded against your lips, “Take your skirt off.”You wiggled out of it, leaving you in your panties. Your nicest ones that you always wore to his lessons, not that you thought he’d ever know. Adam cupped his hand against your damp underwear, grinning to himself. “My poor girl.” He loosened his tie and began unbuckling his pants.

Your breath hitched at the sound of metal clanging. The amount of times that sound had echoed in your imagination was more than you could count. You sat perched on your arms, lending you a view of him undressing. When he untucked his shirt, his happy trail made your stomach swirl. You followed it down to the hem of his exposed underwear. His cock was straining against the fabric, eager to use you.

He pulled it out of its restraints. His hand wrapped around it, stroking himself. Sadly, your eyes were too focused on the movements of his hands that you didn’t notice how his eyes flickered between your needy expression and the damp spot on your panties. He had thought of this too, more times than he’d admit to himself. Dreamed about having his student squirming for him, needing him to take care of her.

“Show me what you do when you’re thinking about me,” he panted, “show me how you touch yourself.” In any normal situation, you would be way too embarrassed to do it. But for him, you would do whatever he asked. You pulled off your panties, exposing your soaked cunt before snaking one of your hands down to your clit. Your legs spasmed at the first touch; you had never been this turned on in your life. Adam watched intently as you massaged your clit, watching as your body tensed with each circling motion. You fought to keep your eyes open, to keep looking at his cock, finally revealed to you. You never thought you’d see it, let alone see him with his hand wrapped around it.

You paused for a second, not wanting to cum now and embarrass yourself. The pause was cut short by two callused fingertips taking your place. The surprise finally had you moan; Adam reveled in the sound. He let go of his cock, focusing solely on making you feel good.

He dipped his fingers down, running them over your slit. You had given up on sitting and were now lying down, sprawled across the dark wood. You clenched when his fingers entered you. If you didn’t know, you’d think it was his cock, based on the stretch compared to your own fingers. A tinge of jealousy hit you when he hit your spot with ease; he must’ve been with many women before you.

Adam’s mouth watered at your walls clenching around his digits. He pulled them out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness. “Shh, don’t get all whiny now,” he shushed and grabbed his cock again. This time, he placed it against your clit, letting his tip press against it. “Next time, I’m gonna bury my face in you.”

Your hips jerked against him. His words went in one ear and out the other. You just needed him inside you. “Please, sir,” you whined. Adam huffed in response, “Hm? What?” He wasn’t gonna let you win this easily. “You want to be fucked?” The condescension in his voice was enough to make your thighs flex. “Yes, sir,” you nodded eagerly, “I want you inside me; it’s all I’ve been thinking about.” He scoffed at your rambling, pleased with your desperation.

He entered you slowly, making you stop your pathetic cries. He groaned at you enveloping him, squeezing his cock. “I could’ve told your age just from how tight you are,” he huffed, “my pretty little girl.” His strong hands hugged your waist, pulling you onto his cock. You swore internally to never be with a guy your age again. The stretch made your mind go quiet and your mouth loud. You moaned with each thrust, painfully slow but deliciously stretching and hard.

Adam watched his cock disappear into your, in his opinion, perfectly young cunt. He upped his pace once your body stopped fighting his length, stuffing you fully when he swiftly entered you. You cried out at the sudden change and kept at it as he continued with his relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his hips; somehow you couldn’t get enough despite the painful intrusion.

Adam lowered his torso down over you, capturing your lips in a messy kiss. His beard scratched your chin as his tongue clashed with yours. His cock kept hitting your G-spot over and over, pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m close,” you whined against his beard, furrowing your brows in pleasure. “Go on, baby, make a mess on my cock.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair as the pressure rose, scratching his scalp. He was nearing his climax too; his jaw hung open as he panted against your skin. His strained noises pushed you over the edge, making your legs tremble around his tall frame. Your cries echoed through the lecture room. And soon his grunts did too. If you could, you’d play the sound on repeat forever.

He slumped over you, breathing heavily once his cum had filled you up. “I can’t believe you want me,” he mumbled, making your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t believe you finally slept with him, let alone having him even talk to you. “You’re gonna have to stay behind a lot from now on.”

You didn’t sleep any better that night. You were busy replaying the afternoon behind closed eyes, adding a third finger to resemble his two, staining your pristine sheets with need and the remainder of your professor's cum.

[moonlit-imagines]

Took a Bullet

Jason Todd x reader

warnings: GUNS BLOOD WEAPONS INJURY

a/n: AYO ANON I LIED I STILL HAD MORE FROM YOU YAAYYYYY!!! i sowwy it is a little short

prompt: anon 🥀: “I've been in a jason todd mood as of lately (I'm literally so obsessed with him) and wanted to request a jason one-shot where it's a sort of enemies/ rivals-to-lovers type of dynamic where reader is another anti-hero who always ends up beating jason to jobs/ stealing his thunder by taking out whatever baddie he was after before he could do it? And then one time they have to work together to take down a criminal and reader gets severely injured (not fatally) so jason gets all protective. Then jason takes reader back to his safe house and patches them up, scolding them for making such a reckless move, which gets them talking and a confession ensues.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Red Hood sarcastically asked you after you shot down his last four battle plans for taking out a heavy weapons deal that would be taking place in under two hours.

“Anything that doesn’t guarantee our deaths, Red Hood.” You remarked, slamming your gun on the table. “I need a break from this.” You stood up and headed for the door for a moment of fresh air—Gotham fresh air.

“We don’t get breaks, y/n, this is happening tonight. It’s now or never so get on the same page.” He argued as you slammed the door behind you, rolling your eyes at his arrogance. The sun was setting, you were losing time—and you felt you were better off on your own. But he just wouldn’t leave you alone, had to have a hand in this takedown. Maybe because you were always one step ahead of him, he had to be apart of this one.

Jason worked hard, but you seemed to work harder with the way you handled your jobs. You got information first, you were there first, you did it on your own. He never understood how he was coming in second but he didn’t feel like he was doing enough, so when he caught wind of your operation he had to have a hand in it to make up the difference—only you couldn’t stand the way he did things.

You took a deep breath and walked back inside, seeing Jason scribbling on the board his new plan. “Is this better for you?” He crossed his arms as your eyes darted across a board of people, places, paraphernalia and more.

“Hang on.” You took the marker from him and altered it hastily, just for show because you knew it’d irk him. “This I can do.”

“Thank God.” He grabbed your gun off the table by the muzzle and handed it to you. “Can we go now?”

—————

Things did not go as planned. You insisted it was of no fault of your own but that was up for debate, especially since you chose to dive in front of a bullet to prevent Red Hood from taking a hit. That wasn’t the story you were sticking with, though.

“I wasn’t the one who dropped my knife, Hood!” You argued as he drove the getaway car. He could barely hear your yelling over the overworked engine revving and the barrage of bullets coming your way. You rushed to tie off your wound—a gunshot to your leg—as he sped away. “Can you drive a little less insane so I can fix this?!”

“Working on preventing you from getting shot again, if you hadn’t noticed. And I dropped the knife because you hit me, thank you very much.” He took a hard left turn and another right, trying to lose the pursuit to get you back to his safehouse.

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t shut the hell up about Batman and I was trying to concentrate.” You retorted, wincing in pain at each turn as you braced yourself for the force. “I thought you were a professional who, at the very least, could hold onto his weapon what he gets tapped in the arm. I guess that’s why I’m always a step ahead, huh?” Jason made another rough turn and you groaned in pain. “Come on! We lost them, you can stop with the reckless driving.”

“If you say so,” Jason shrugged, finally starting to drive in the right direction and looking over to you, noticing a second bloodstain on your arm, “did you get shot again?” He asked in disbelief, oddly calm.

“Yep.” You stared ahead and ignored his gaze. “You can go a little faster. I’d like to get this taken care of.” He pressed the gas pedal and arrived back at base, helping you up the stairs due to your first injury. You cursed under your breath the whole time with no end in sight. “Your fault you can’t pay attention, you goddamn…goddamn…can you just, ugh, do something?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to get you to the gurney so I can fix the mistake you made.” He sassed back.

“You were going to take this one to the chest, so I’d be thanking me if I were you.” You argued back as you were laid on the gurney within your base.

“I wear kevlar, thank you very much.” Jason replied, rummaging through first aid.

“Not on your shoulders. Would have gone straight through and probably hit your heart.” You poked him as hard as you could on his shoulder with your good arm—you know, the one without the bullet hole. Jason scoffed and cut your pantleg off without asking. You groaned at the pressure and decided to quit complaining since he had the tweezers in hand. “No, the bullet went through in my leg. Not my arm, though.” He nodded and instead went for the needle to stitch your thigh.

“That hurt?” He asked.

“Yeah, it hurts. Are you kidding?” You snapped and he shook his head, finishing the first set of stitches and moving to the back of your leg. A more sensitive spot, you tried to hide the twitches and winces of pain from him. And finally, he got to your arm, where he’d had to reach in to get the bullet.

“Just squeeze my shoulder, it’ll only hurt a little.” He fixed his mask settings to seek the bullet and slowly went in with a long pair of tweezers, the pain was worse with the bullet coming out than going in. You grabbed his arm so hard you could have punctured it with your bare hands, regretting your decision to save his ass as you cursed about a dozen more times. “You know, taking that bullet was a terrible idea.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” You huffed, growing more agitated as the needle entered your skin again. “Why can’t you be more grateful?”

“Because you could have died.” He took his mask off and looked you in the eyes. “And I couldn’t have lived with that.”

“And you think I could have? If you died, I’d have felt the same way.” You explained to him, tears welling just barely enough to notice. “Maybe you’re just upset you’re not the knight in shining armor.” You sarcastically teased.

“Maybe.” He answered as he cleaned the excess blood from your skin. Your eyes widened.

“What?” You simply replied.

“Maybe I’m upset I couldn’t save you.” He said, grabbing the gauze and gently wrapping the affected areas.

“You’re patching me up, so I think we’re even.” He looked up at you and shook his head. “What are you getting at, Jason?”

“You know what I’m getting at.” He said and you gently reached for his face, hand holding his chin. “Are you that surprised?”

“That your jealous, whiny ass is really just hopelessly in love with me?” You raised an eyebrow in mockery. “I might have gotten the hint somewhere down the line.”

“Doubt it.” Jason retorted.

“Yeah, why don’t you finish fixing me up first?”

taglist: @captainshazamerica // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @the-did-i-ask // @azazel-nyx // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[harlotistic]

Another girlfriend would gently suggest that maybe it is time for Sylus's darling kitten to move out. The attachments they have to each other aren't healthy, and they make /her/ uncomfortable. How dare she even think that she has enough of a say in his life to even suggest such a thing? Trying to make him cast out his precious kitten when she needs him to keep her safe and happy? That relationship didn't even get to upset his darling because he dropped her like a box of rocks.

How could he tell his kitten no when she came to him for reassurance? How could he tell her no when all she needed was to rub her pretty little cunt against him to make her feel better? How could he tell her no when she crawled into his bed in the middle of the night with her lacey little shorts and no shirt demanding to be held? He couldn't. He would be a bad father if he did. Sylus was a lot of things, but a bad father would never be one of them.

There they are, all snuggled up while he reads. She is 'stealing' sips of his cherry wine and listening to the pages flip. She had made up her mind and slid from his lap to kneel between his knees. She had never been brave enough to do it before, but now she was determined to show him that she could be his one and only girl. No more of these nobodies trying to take what is hers. She'd gently remove him from his boxers, and Sylus swears he could have busted on her face right then and there as her soft pink tongue glided up his shaft and rubbed at that little magic spot behind the head. He didn't. He is a good dad and wants her to explore in a 'safe' environment. It doesn't take long, though, as she starts to get a rhythm, he is so big and she is so small though that she can't even take half of his cock in her mouth before gagging, but the view with pink streaked saliva and her innocent eyes looking up at him for approval has him hanging in by a threat as he groans and praised her for how good she is doing hand ontop of her head as he pets her like the good kitten she is.

-🐱

🐱 anon you are feeding me like thank you so much??? i am always sat for these. also i feel like his kitten is either clumsy or bratty no in between so she'll do this thing where her teeth would lightly press against that sensitive spot or graze it when she's sucking him off and he'd see stars. head thrown back and teeth gritted as he hisses. she'll like it because first of all her dad looks so insanely hot doing all of that and second because his fingers would tighten in her hair all sweetly. he might even start to be a tad rougher or meaner (subconsciously of course, he'd never hurt her). he'd start pushing her face down for longer and chide her for being too naughty. but in all honesty, dad!sylus is definitely cumming harder when his kitten bites down lightly around his cock head, throbbing and spurting onto her tongue as his hips shudder a little.

bonus points if she swallows clean. he'll stroke her hair and stroke away the drool with his thumbs with literally the most affection filled eyes as he tells her what a good job her dick sucking was 🤤

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. ��It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[eyrieofsynapses]

why Aurora's art is genius

It's break for me, and I've been meaning to sit down and read the Aurora webcomic (https://comicaurora.com/, @comicaurora on Tumblr) for quite a bit. So I did that over the last few days.

And… y'know. I can't actually say "I should've read this earlier," because otherwise I would've been up at 2:30-3am when I had responsibilities in the morning and I couldn't have properly enjoyed it, but. Holy shit guys THIS COMIC.

I intended to just do a generalized "hello this is all the things I love about this story," and I wrote a paragraph or two about art style. …and then another. And another. And I realized I needed to actually reference things so I would stop being too vague. I was reading the comic on my tablet or phone, because I wanted to stay curled up in my chair, but I type at a big monitor and so I saw more details… aaaaaand it turned into its own giant-ass post.

SO. Enjoy a few thousand words of me nerding out about this insanely cool art style and how fucking gorgeous this comic is? (There are screenshots, I promise it isn't just a wall of text.) In my defense, I just spent two semesters in graphic design classes focusing on the Adobe Suite, so… I get to be a nerd about pretty things…???

All positive feedback btw! No downers here. <3

---

I cannot emphasize enough how much I love the beautiful, simple stylistic method of drawing characters and figures. It is absolutely stunning and effortless and utterly graceful—it is so hard to capture the sheer beauty and fluidity of the human form in such a fashion. Even a simple outline of a character feels dynamic! It's gorgeous!

Though I do have a love-hate relationship with this, because my artistic side looks at that lovely simplicity, goes "I CAN DO THAT!" and then I sit down and go to the paper and realize that no, in fact, I cannot do that yet, because that simplicity is born of a hell of a lot of practice and understanding of bodies and actually is really hard to do. It's a very developed style that only looks simple because the artist knows what they're doing. The human body is hard to pull off, and this comic does so beautifully and makes it look effortless.

Also: line weight line weight line weight. It's especially important in simplified shapes and figures like this, and hoo boy is it used excellently. It's especially apparent the newer the pages get—I love watching that improvement over time—but with simpler figures and lines, you get nice light lines to emphasize both smaller details, like in the draping of clothing and the curls of hair—which, hello, yes—and thicker lines to emphasize bigger and more important details and silhouettes. It's the sort of thing that's essential to most illustrations, but I wanted to make a note of it because it's so vital to this art style.

THE USE OF LAYER BLENDING MODES OH MY GODS. (...uhhh, apologies to the people who don't know what that means, it's a digital art program thing? This article explains it for beginners.)

Bear with me, I just finished my second Photoshop course, I spent months and months working on projects with this shit so I see the genius use of Screen and/or its siblings (of which there are many—if I say "Screen" here, assume I mean the entire umbrella of Screen blending modes and possibly Overlay) and go nuts, but seriously it's so clever and also fucking gorgeous:

Firstly: the use of screened-on sound effect words over an action? A "CRACK" written over a branch and then put on Screen in glowy green so that it's subtle enough that it doesn't disrupt the visual flow, but still sticks out enough to make itself heard? Little "scritches" that are transparent where they're laid on without outlines to emphasize the sound without disrupting the underlying image? FUCK YES. I haven't seen this done literally anywhere else—granted, I haven't read a massive amount of comics, but I've read enough—and it is so clever and I adore it. Examples:

Secondly: The beautiful lighting effects. The curling leaves, all the magic, the various glowing eyes, the fog, the way it's all so vividly colored but doesn't burn your eyeballs out—a balance that's way harder to achieve than you'd think—and the soft glows around them, eeeee it's so pretty so pretty SO PRETTY. Not sure if some of these are Outer/Inner Glow/Shadow layer effects or if it's entirely hand-drawn, but major kudos either way; I can see the beautiful use of blending modes and I SALUTE YOUR GENIUS.

I keep looking at some of this stuff and go "is that a layer effect or is it done by hand?" Because you can make some similar things with the Satin layer effect in Photoshop (I don't know if other programs have this? I'm gonna have to find out since I won't have access to PS for much longer ;-;) that resembles some of the swirly inner bits on some of the lit effects, but I'm not sure if it is that or not. Or you could mask over textures? There's... many ways to do it.

If done by hand: oh my gods the patience, how. If done with layer effects: really clever work that knows how to stop said effects from looking wonky, because ugh those things get temperamental. If done with a layer of texture that's been masked over: very, very good masking work. No matter the method, pretty shimmers and swirly bits inside the bigger pretty swirls!

Next: The way color contrast is used! I will never be over the glowy green-on-black Primordial Life vibes when Alinua gets dropped into that… unconscious space?? with Life, for example, and the sharp contrast of vines and crack and branches and leaves against pitch black is just visually stunning. The way the roots sink into the ground and the three-dimensional sensation of it is particularly badass here:

Friggin. How does this imply depth like that. HOW. IT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

A huge point here is also color language and use! Everybody has their own particular shade, generally matching their eyes, magic, and personality, and I adore how this is used to make it clear who's talking or who's doing an action. That was especially apparent to me with Dainix and Falst in the caves—their colors are both fairly warm, but quite distinct, and I love how this clarifies who's doing what in panels with a lot of action from both of them. There is a particular bit that stuck out to me, so I dug up the panels (see this page and the following one https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-30/):

(Gods it looks even prettier now that I put it against a plain background. Also, appreciation to Falst for managing a bridal-carry midair, damn.)

The way that their colors MERGE here! And the immense attention to detail in doing so—Dainix is higher up than Falst is in the first panel, so Dainix's orange fades into Falst's orange at the base. The next panel has gold up top and orange on bottom; we can't really tell in that panel where each of them are, but that's carried over to the next panel—

—where we now see that Falst's position is raised above Dainix's due to the way he's carrying him. (Points for continuity!) And, of course, we see the little "huffs" flowing from orange to yellow over their heads (where Dainix's head is higher than Falst's) to merge the sound of their breathing, which is absurdly clever because it emphasizes to the viewer how we hear two sets of huffing overlaying each other, not one. Absolutely brilliant.

(A few other notes of appreciation to that panel: beautiful glows around them, the sparks, the jagged silhouette of the spider legs, the lovely colors that have no right to make the area around a spider corpse that pretty, the excellent texturing on the cave walls plus perspective, the way Falst's movements imply Dainix's hefty weight, the natural posing of the characters, their on-point expressions that convey exactly how fuckin terrifying everything is right now, the slight glows to their eyes, and also they're just handsome boys <3)

Next up: Rain!!!! So well done! It's subtle enough that it never ever disrupts the impact of the focal point, but evident enough you can tell! And more importantly: THE MIST OFF THE CHARACTERS. Rain does this irl, it has that little vapor that comes off you and makes that little misty effect that plays with lighting, it's so cool-looking and here it's used to such pretty effect!

One of the panel captions says something about it blurring out all the injuries on the characters but like THAT AIN'T TOO BIG OF A PROBLEM when it gets across the environmental vibes, and also that'd be how it would look in real life too so like… outside viewer's angle is the same as the characters', mostly? my point is: that's the environment!!! that's the vibes, that's the feel! It gets it across and it does so in the most pretty way possible!

And another thing re: rain, the use of it to establish perspective, particularly in panels like this—

—where we can tell we're looking down at Tynan due to the perspective on the rain and where it's pointing. Excellent. (Also, kudos for looking down and emphasizing how Tynan's losing his advantage—lovely use of visual storytelling.)

Additionally, the misting here:

We see it most heavily in the leftmost panel, where it's quite foggy as you would expect in a rainstorm, especially in an environment with a lot of heat, but it's also lightly powdered on in the following two panels and tends to follow light sources, which makes complete sense given how light bounces off particles in the air.

A major point of strength in these too is a thorough understanding of lighting, like rim lighting, the various hues and shades, and an intricate understanding of how light bounces off surfaces even when they're in shadow (we'll see a faint glow in spots where characters are half in shadow, but that's how it would work in real life, because of how light bounces around).

Bringing some of these points together: the fluidity of the lines in magic, and the way simple glowing lines are used to emphasize motion and the magic itself, is deeply clever. I'm basically pulling at random from panels and there's definitely even better examples, but here's one (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-16-33/):

First panel, listed in numbers because these build on each other:

The tension of the lines in Tess's magic here. This works on a couple levels: first, the way she's holding her fists, as if she's pulling a rope taut.

The way there's one primary line, emphasizing the rope feeling, accompanied by smaller ones.

The additional lines starbursting around her hands, to indicate the energy crackling in her hands and how she's doing a good bit more than just holding it. (That combined with the fists suggests some tension to the magic, too.) Also the variations in brightness, a feature you'll find in actual lightning. :D Additional kudos for how the lightning sparks and breaks off the metal of the sword.

A handful of miscellaneous notes on the second panel:

The reflection of the flames in Erin's typically dark blue eyes (which bears a remarkable resemblance to Dainix, incidentally—almost a thematic sort of parallel given Erin's using the same magic Dainix specializes in?)

The flowing of fabric in the wind and associated variation in the lineart

The way Erin's tattoos interact with the fire he's pulling to his hand

The way the rain overlays some of the fainter areas of fire (attention! to! detail! hell yeah!)

I could go on. I won't because this is a lot of writing already.

Third panel gets paragraphs, not bullets:

Erin's giant-ass "FWOOM" of fire there, and the way the outline of the word is puffy-edged and gradated to feel almost three-dimensional, plus once again using Screen or a variation on it so that the stars show up in the background. All this against that stunning plume of fire, which ripples and sparks so gorgeously, and the ending "om" of the onomatopoeia is emphasized incredibly brightly against that, adding to the punch of it and making the plume feel even brighter.

Also, once again, rain helping establish perspective, especially in how it's very angular in the left side of the panel and then slowly becomes more like a point to the right to indicate it's falling directly down on the viewer. Add in the bright, beautiful glow effects, fainter but no less important black lines beneath them to emphasize the sky and smoke and the like, and the stunningly beautiful lighting and gradated glows surrounding Erin plus the lightning jagging up at him from below, and you get one hell of an impactful panel right there. (And there is definitely more in there I could break down, this is just a lot already.)

And in general: The colors in this? Incredible. The blues and purples and oranges and golds compliment so well, and it's all so rich.

Like, seriously, just throughout the whole comic, the use of gradients, blending modes, color balance and hues, all the things, all the things, it makes for the most beautiful effects and glows and such a rich environment. There's a very distinct style to this comic in its simplified backgrounds (which I recognize are done partly because it's way easier and also backgrounds are so time-consuming dear gods but lemme say this) and vivid, smoothly drawn characters; the simplicity lets them come to the front and gives room for those beautiful, richly saturated focal points, letting the stylized designs of the magic and characters shine. The use of distinct silhouettes is insanely good. Honestly, complex backgrounds might run the risk of making everything too visually busy in this case. It's just, augh, so GORGEOUS.

Another bit, take a look at this page (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-15-28/):

It's not quite as evident here as it is in the next page, but this one does some other fun things so I'm grabbing it. Points:

Once again, using different colors to represent different character actions. The "WHAM" of Kendal hitting the ground is caused by Dainix's force, so it's orange (and kudos for doubling the word over to add a shake effect). But we see blue layered underneath, which could be an environmental choice, but might also be because it's Kendal, whose color is blue.

And speaking off, take a look at the right-most panel on top, where Kendal grabs the spear: his motion is, again, illustrated in bright blue, versus the atmospheric screened-on orange lines that point toward him around the whole panel (I'm sure these have a name, I think they might be more of a manga thing though and the only experience I have in manga is reading a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist). Those lines emphasize the weight of the spear being shoved at him, and their color tells us Dainix is responsible for it.

One of my all-time favorite effects in this comic is the way cracks manifest across Dainix's body to represent when he starts to lose control; it is utterly gorgeous and wonderfully thematic. These are more evident in the page before and after this one, but you get a decent idea here. I love the way they glow softly, the way the fire juuuust flickers through at the start and then becomes more evident over time, and the cracks feel so realistic, like his skin is made of pottery. Additional points for how fire begins to creep into his hair.

A small detail that's generally consistent across the comic, but which I want to make note of here because you can see it pretty well: Kendal's eyes glow about the same as the jewel in his sword, mirroring his connection to said sword and calling back to how the jewel became Vash's eye temporarily and thus was once Kendal's eye. You can always see this connection (though there might be some spots where this also changes in a symbolic manner; I went through it quickly on the first time around, so I'll pay more attention when I inevitably reread this), where Kendal's always got that little shine of blue in his eyes the same as the jewel. It's a beautiful visual parallel that encourages the reader to subconsciously link them together, especially since the lines used to illustrate character movements typically mirror their eye color. It's an extension of Kendal.

Did I mention how ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL the colors in this are?

Also, the mythological/legend-type scenes are illustrated in familiar style often used for that type of story, a simple and heavily symbolic two-dimensional cave-painting-like look. They are absolutely beautiful on many levels, employing simple, lovely gradients, slightly rougher and thicker lineart that is nonetheless smoothly beautiful, and working with clear silhouettes (a major strength of this art style, but also a strength in the comic overall). But in particular, I wanted to call attention to a particular thing (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-12-4/):

The flowing symbolic lineart surrounding each character. This is actually quite consistent across characters—see also Life's typical lines and how they curl:

What's particularly interesting here is how these symbols are often similar, but not the same. Vash's lines are always smooth, clean curls, often playing off each other and echoing one another like ripples in a pond. You'd think they'd look too similar to Life's—but they don't. Life's curl like vines, and they remain connected; where one curve might echo another but exist entirely detached from each other in Vash's, Life's lines still remain wound together, because vines are continuous and don't float around. :P

Tahraim's are less continuous, often breaking up with significantly smaller bits and pieces floating around like—of course—sparks, and come to sharper points. These are also constants: we see the vines repeated over and over in Alinua's dreams of Life, and the echoing ripples of Vash are consistent wherever we encounter him. Kendal's dream of the ghost citizens of the city of Vash in the last few chapters is filled with these rippling, echoing patterns, to beautiful effect (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-14/):

They ripple and spiral, often in long, sinuous curves, with smooth elegance. It reminds me a great deal of images of space and sine waves and the like. This establishes a definite feel to these different characters and their magic. And the thing is, that's not something that had to be done—the colors are good at emphasizing who's who. But it was done, and it adds a whole other dimension to the story. Whenever you're in a deity's domain, you know whose it is no matter the color.

Regarding that shape language, I wanted to make another note, too—Vash is sometimes described as chaotic and doing what he likes, which is interesting to me, because smooth, elegant curves and the color blue aren't generally associated with chaos. So while Vash might behave like that on the surface, I'm guessing he's got a lot more going on underneath; he's probably much more intentional in his actions than you'd think at a glance, and he is certainly quite caring with his city. The other thing is that this suits Kendal perfectly. He's a paragon character; he is kind, virtuous, and self-sacrificing, and often we see him aiming to calm others and keep them safe. Blue is such a good color for him. There is… probably more to this, but I'm not deep enough in yet to say.

And here's the thing: I'm only scratching the surface. There is so much more here I'm not covering (color palettes! outfits! character design! environment! the deities! so much more!) and a lot more I can't cover, because I don't have the experience; this is me as a hobbyist artist who happened to take a couple design classes because I wanted to. The art style to this comic is so clever and creative and beautiful, though, I just had to go off about it. <3

...brownie points for getting all the way down here? Have a cookie.

[qualitynightmarelove]

♡ Warnings : age gap (college student x professor), explicit content (18+), heavy tension, possessive behavior, semi-public setting, morally grey dynamics, obsessive thoughts, slight degradation, power imbalance, praise kink, fem reader, dom professor.

Words : 1,851k

♡ A/N : this is my first fanfic on this platform so please bear with me and sorry for any typos.

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

I shouldn't be thinking about him like this. Not here, not now not during a physics lecture. But the way he looks when he leans over the desk his thick black framed glasses perched at the tip of his nose, that quiet confidence in his velvety voice when he explains an equation, the way his sleeves are always rolled up just enough to show the veins in his forearms—it drives me insane.

And somehow, in the blur between boredom and longing, my mind slips into places it shouldn’t.

In my daydream, he’s no longer standing by the whiteboard. He’s on his knees. Devoted. Starving.

He starts slow—teasing, like he knows he has all the time in the world. His hands grip my thighs like I'm something sacred, and his mouth... his mouth is sin incarnate. Each stroke of his tongue sends heat spiraling through me, and I can practically feel his breath against my skin, feel his groan reverberating where it matters most.

My fingers tangle in his thick chestnut hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again—and he doesn't stop. Not even when my thighs tremble around him. Not when I gasp his name like it’s the only one I remember.

By the time I reach the edge and fall over it, I imagine him ruined.

My hand is buried in his hair, still clinging to the remnants of pleasure. His lips are slick, glistening with my essence, the taste of me dripping slowly down his chin. His breathing is heavy, uneven, and his eyes—God, those eyes—glazed over, pupils blown wide, like he's high on the taste of me.

And the worst part?

I blink back to reality, still sitting in that hard plastic chair as he scribbles equations on the board. Completely unaware. Innocent. And I’m left burning, hand clenched around my pen, trying to look normal while my imagination begs me to go back.

 

I’m still recovering from the daydream when it happens.

He turns. Looks right at me.

Not a passing glance. Not a quick scan of the room. His eyes lock with mine like he felt it—the shift in the air, the way my thoughts wrapped around him just moments ago. My breath catches. His expression doesn’t change, not fully, but there’s something different in his gaze now. Something knowing.

Did I stare too long? Did he see it on my face? The heat? The guilt?

The hunger?

“Everything alright?” he asks, voice low and smooth, just for me.

I nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

His brow lifts, just slightly. “About?”

God. If only he knew.

Or maybe he does.

His steps are quiet as he moves down the aisle between desks, but somehow, each one echoes in my chest. He stops just beside mine, leaning in to glance at my page, but he’s too close. That cologne—something clean and warm—hits me first. Then the sound of his voice, a soft murmur right beside my ear.

“You’ve been zoning out a lot today.”

His words are innocent. But the way he says them? Loaded.

I swallow. “Didn’t sleep much.”

He hums, low and thoughtful, still far too close. “You look flushed,” he says, almost like an afterthought.

I don't dare meet his eyes.

Instead, I focus on the paper in front of me, pretending like my pulse isn’t going wild, like I’m not reliving every second of that daydream—my essence dripping from his lips, the way he looked up at me, addicted.

He pulls away slowly, giving me one last glance before walking back to the front. And this time, when he speaks, he doesn’t look at the class.

He looks at me.

“Let’s try something a little more... stimulating.”

And I know I’m done for.

    ______________________________________

The bell rings, but I don’t move. I can’t.

My fingers twitch with the memory of his voice—low, teasing, almost like a challenge. I need to get out of here before I melt into the seat, but I can't tear my eyes away from him. Not when he’s standing there, flipping through the papers on his desk with that casual grace.

I’m the last one left.

He notices me immediately, his lips curving just slightly as he glances over his shoulder.

“Need help with something?” His tone is smooth, but there's an undercurrent I can't quite place. Like he knows.

I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. “Uh... yeah. A little confused on the last question.”

He stands, straightening his tie, and moves toward me. I feel the air shift with every step, his presence getting closer, overwhelming.

He stops just beside me, too close. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze burning through me even though I’m looking at my notebook, pretending to focus on the problem I don’t even care about anymore.

His hand slides onto the desk next to mine, fingertips brushing against the paper. It’s casual. It’s innocent.

But it's not.

“Let’s take a look.” He leans over, the scent of him drowning out everything else. His breath brushes the side of my neck as he points to the problem, and for a moment, I can’t even hear the words he’s saying. I’m too lost in the feel of him, in the thudding of my heart, in the way he’s so close I could reach out and touch him, feel his skin, his warmth.

And then, like he’s testing me, his hand moves slightly closer. Just enough to make my breath catch.

“I think you missed a step,” he says softly, but his voice drops, something darker lurking beneath the surface. “It’s okay. I’ll show you.”

His fingers brush over mine, just a touch, but it sends a jolt straight through me. I can’t stop the shiver that runs down my spine.

He notices.

His eyes flicker to mine, the teasing smile playing on his lips, but this time, there’s no hiding what’s there. The desire. The tension.

“Maybe we should take a break,” he murmurs,his hand running through his slicked-back hair leaving it disheveled, leaning in even closer, his lips just inches from my ear. “I think you’ve worked hard enough today.”

I don’t trust myself to speak. My lips part, but no sound comes out. My body is on fire, and every instinct screams to pull him closer, to give in to the heat, to the chemistry sizzling between us.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

    _____________________________________

I don’t even remember how I got here. One second I was asking about math... the next, I was gasping, spine arched, seated right on the edge of his desk—legs parted, skirt pushed up, breath hitched.

And he?

He was on his knees, right where I imagined him. Right where I needed him, his eyes no longer obscured by his glasses they were narrowed focused, but pooled with lust.

His hands gripped my thighs like they were made to fit in his palms, thumbs digging into soft skin as he pulled me closer to the edge. My legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, then locked behind his neck, my thighs clenching around him when his tongue finally met me—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every taste, every reaction.

I was soaked. And he loved it.

The sound—his soft groan, half-muffled against me—sent heat flooding through me. His lips were wet, slick with my desire, and every movement of his tongue made me tremble harder. My head tilted back, one hand gripping the edge of the desk, the other tangled deep in his thick chestnut hair.

I tugged.

Hard.

And he moaned in response, like he wanted the roughness. Like he wanted me to ruin him.

“God—” I breathed out, barely a whisper, eyes fluttering shut as he lapped at me, devouring like a man starved. “You’re... you’re so good at this...”

His pace didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. Grew more intense. More possessive.

My thighs trembled again, instinctively clenching tighter around his head as another wave hit me, my fingers fisting his hair as if I could pull him even closer. My hips rolled against his mouth—helpless, needy—chasing every flick of his tongue, every sinful glide.

When I came, it was like falling.

My whole body tensed, mouth falling open in a silent cry, and I felt it. All of it. The heat. The release. The satisfaction. And the mess—my essence dripping down onto his lips, his chin, his tongue.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept going, riding out every aftershock, licking me clean like I was something divine.

And when I finally opened my eyes, breathless and dazed, I saw him looking up at me—mouth wet, eyes narrowed as he looks at me with a dark desire almost possessive, lips parted like he wanted more.

Like he wasn’t done

[mamaestapa]

Closer|| E.Edwards x reader x R.McGroarty

•pairing: Ethan Edwards x reader x Rutger McGroarty

•summary: After the Umich hockey team gets swept by MSU in their two game series, Ethan and Rutger help you become somebody else while you help them get away from themselves…

•word count: 4.4k

•warnings: SMUT, inspired by the song Closer by Nine Inch Nails, THREESOME, both guys inside/penetrating at the same time, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, oral sex (male and female receiving) ,foreplay, hair pulling kink, whipped cream, belly shots, brief blindfolding, reader has a belly button piercing (even if you don’t have one, you do for this fic bc it’s so hot), blood, choking, SMUT, this is pure filth. if descriptive, absolutely nasty, all porn no plot smut makes you uncomfortable DO NOT READ!!

DIGITAL ANIMAL AU MASTERLIST

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram as you waited for Ethan to get back to his apartment from Yost Ice Arena.

Tonight was the final game of the MSU v UMICH weekend series. The guys played well tonight, but not well enough to pull out a win. Ethan and Rutger each scored a goal over the course of the last two nights, but State was unfortunately the better looking team both nights. The games didn't quite go the way you or the fans had hoped, but you had to remind yourself—It's still early in the season. They can come back from this.

During the game, you had seats in the front row bleachers of the student section with the Children of Yost. You sat with your friends and some of the other girlfriends of the hockey players. As you sat in the stands, you split your attention between the game and your phone—scrolling through Instagram to see if the Umich Hockey page had posted anything about your boys.

You checked the team’s story first, coming across a great amount of content from the boys pregame warmups. You couldn’t stop the widening of your eyes as you watched the clip play on your phone.

Ethan was wearing a navy blue University of Michigan hockey shirt and matching shorts with the maize M on the side of his right pant leg. He wore his socks like usual, pulled up to his knees and paired with his favorite pair of tennis shoes.

Rutger was standing next to Ethan, sporting the same shorts and a long sleeved gray compression shirt with the maize M on his left pec. The shirt hugged his broad chest and muscular figure perfectly. The chain around his neck peeked out from the material of the tight shirt, which was something you loved to see.

In the clip, Ethan and Rutger had just finished running their laps. Both boys chests were heaving as Ethan ran his fingers through his hair. Ethan gazed at Rutger with a smirk as he reached out and slapped the sophomore on the back mouthing “atta boy”.

It wasn’t unusual for them to interact like this, but something about the way the two looked at each other in that ten second clip had you feeling many things.

Your heart raced and you crossed your legs as the video came to an end and the story moved along. Ethan and Rutger looked insanely hot. Something about the pre-game warmup look the boys wore had you going absolutely feral and feeling your pulse in other areas.

You shut your phone off and set it down in your lap. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth as you looked out onto the ice, watching the rest of the game.

You couldn't wait for the game to be over...

So here you are now a couple hours later: sitting on the couch in his apartment and waiting for Ethan to come home. Just as you picked up your phone to check the time, Ethan entered the apartment. He set his belongings down on the counter, huffing out a loud sigh as he did so. You chuckled to yourself and got up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. A small smile pulled at Ethan’s lips as he looked at you.

"Hey hot stuff." you greeted as you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. Ethan chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Hey yourself."

You hummed and pulled away from Ethan, looking into his soft brown eyes. Your eyes scanned Ethan’s figure, taking in his beautiful eyes, his chiseled jawline, and that stupid backwards white Michigan cap that had you feeling things you shouldn't be feeling.

You brought a hand up to Ethan’s head, slightly tipping the cap back which made Ethan chuckle.

“What?” you asked coyly, even though you knew exactly what he was going to say to you.

“You have that look on your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Eddy.”

Ethan snaked his arms back around your waist, smirking as he captured your lips in a passionate kiss. You could feel the warmth radiating off of both of your bodies as you stood pressed against each other. Ethan leaned in to the side of your head, pressing his lips onto the sensitive skin of your neck. He nipped softly at the spot under your earlobe as a new voice spoke lustfully into your ear.

“You know exactly what look he’s talking about sweetheart…”

You pulled back from Ethan, looking up at the boy who had entered the apartment behind Ethan.

Rutger.

With a slight smirk pulling at your lips, you brought a hand back up to the backwards cap on Ethan’s head while your other hand gravitated towards Rutgers chest. You rolled the silver chain cross necklace between your fingertips as you spoke.

“You both looked so good tonight.”

You eyed Ethan, “Eddy, in your blue and your backwards cap…” you sighed blissfully before turning to Rutger and finishing your sentence, “And Rut, something about this chain and you scoring tonight has me all worked up.”

Ethan’s eyes grew dark with lust as he smirked down at you.

Ethan gently squeezed your waist as he said, “Well maybe we should do something about that.” He looked at the younger blonde boy next to him, “What do you think Rut?”

“I think we should…” He trailed off, tongue resting on the side of his cheek as his blue eyes grew dark with lust.

Before you knew it, your lips were smashed against Ethan’s as you rushed into his bedroom. You were taking the cap off of his dark hair and tugging at the hem of Rutgers shirt as the two ushered you through the door frame and into the room.

…

Ethan hooked his fingers underneath your t-shirt, ripping the material off of your body with ease as he continued to kiss you hungrily, wanting to taste more than just your soft lips. Rutger’s veiny hands gripped your bare sides as he pushed you up against the wall of Ethan’s bedroom. His blue eyes grew dark with lust as he gazed down at your breasts sitting perfectly in a navy, lace pushup bra. Perfect for the Michigan game tonight.

It was Rutgers favorite set of yours. It never failed to grow his arousal even more.

"Much better." Rutger smirked as he eyed your perky breasts. He harshly cupped your left breast, digging his digits into the cup as he kissed along your jawline.

Your breathing grew shallow as he bit at your skin. Ethan was kissing along your collar bone, both boys were now sucking at the skin of your neck and leaving deep red blotches. You threw your head back at the feeling of their soft lips against your skin. You brought your hands up to each one of their heads as a soft moan escaped your parted lips.

You ran your fingers through Rutgers damp dark blonde strands as your other hand tugged at the tips of Ethan’s brown hair.

You moaned softly as Ethan’s kisses grew sloppier. He pulled his face away from your neck, smirking slyly at you as he toyed with the waistband of your jeans. He slipped two fingers into your pants, brushing them up against your clothed core. You gasped as his long fingers teased your sensitive clit through the lace, his movements making the wetness between your thighs more apparent.

Rutger gave you a sultry look with his tongue pressed against the side of his mouth as he pulled Ethan’s hand out of your shorts. Rutger harshly pulled you away from the wall, pushing you down flat onto the bed instead. You let out a breath as excitement swirled through your body.

You haven't been this way with your boys in a long time.

It’s been weeks since the three of you have gotten alone time like this.

Rutger ripped your buttoned pants open with ease, slowly sliding them down your legs before tossing them to the floor next to the bed. His lustful eyes scanned over your body laying on his teammates bed. He looked at your face first, taking in those doe eyes and your plump lips he loved so much. His eyes trailed down to your chest, his heart was racing as he looked at your breasts sitting perfectly in the cups lined with lace. He then trailed his eyes further, a smirk pulling at his lips as he looked at your perfectly pierced belly button and your lace covered core.

You may be Ethan’s girl, but you were the most beautiful girl he's ever laid his eyes on.

As Rutger looked at your figure, an idea came to your boyfriend’s mind. Something he's never done before, but something he's wanted to try for a long time. He reached out to the bedside table and grabbed what he was thinking of.

"Put this on her…” Ethan trailed off, handing Rutger a navy blue headband with the M logo in the middle. Rutger eyed Ethan as he carefully took the headband from him. A smirk pulled at the sophomores lips as he slid the material onto your forehead.

He knew exactly what Ethan was hinting at.

Rutger pulled the headband down so your eyes were completely covered.

"There we go." Ethan whispered huskily, his arousal growing at the sight of you blindfolded by his headband.

“What are you doing?" You asked, voice quiet and also slightly confused. Ethan has never blindfolded you before.

"You'll see." Your boyfriend purred as he trailed a hand down your body.

Your core ached and your heart fluttered at the thought of trying something different with both Ethan and Rutger. Not only were you excited, but your body was excited, too.

You closed your eyes as they were met with darkness from the headband. You couldn't see anything, but you could hear everything going on in the room around you.

Ethan grabbed the whipped cream and the bottle of rosé from the bedside table. He took the lid off of the whipped cream, shaking it before taking the lid off and putting it in between his lips. He spit the lid out, the red cap hitting the wall behind the two of you before it fell to the floor.

Ethan eyed your breasts as he shook the can of whipped cream in one hand. He reached out for you with his other hand, placing it on your left rib. His long, skilled fingers slowly trailed up your sides, making you shiver at the sensation.

Ethan unclasped your bra, wetting his lips as he watched the red material fall from your chest, letting your breasts free. Ethan pressed the white tip of the whipped cream can and made a circular motion with the can as he sprayed the cream onto your hard nipples. As soon as he was satisfied with the amount, he threw the can to the side and immediately attached his mouth to the sensitive bud, sucking at the sweet cream that adorned your breasts. His tongue swirled over each of your nipples, making sure to lap up every last bit of the sweet cream.

"Oh Eddy," you let out a breathy moan at the feeling of Ethan’s tongue swirling around your hard nipples. You could feel yourself getting wetter just from him lapping up the whipped cream.

Ethan chuckled at your reaction as he detached his lips from your right breast. He leaned over and grabbed the bottle of rosé off of the bed and pulled the cap off with a slight pop.

He handed the bottle over to Rutger, giving him a curt nod as he gestured to your naked body.

“All yours Rut.”

You pulled Ethan’s headband off of your eyes just in time to see Rutger bring the tip of the bottle down to your belly, letting it rest against your skin as he poured the rosé into your belly button. He eyed you as he quickly slurped the rosé out of your belly button as some of the liquid trickled down your sides

"That's new." You said, an amused smile on your face as you watched Rutger slurp the rose out of your belly button.

Ethan has a time or two, but Rutger’s never done belly shots from you.

Tonight is already proving to be one of those nights where you, Ethan, and Rutger help each other become someone else together, not only romantically but sexually, too.

After slurping out every last drop of the liquid, Rutger bit down on the jewelry adorning your navel. He and Ethan loved to play with your piercing during sex.

Something about the silver diamond jewelry just got them even more excited. You brought your hands down to Rutger’s head, running your nails over his scalp as he continued to bite at and play with your navel piercing. You bit your lip and let out a soft whimper as he tugged harshly at the ring while gently cupping your breasts as he did so.

You could feel Rutger’s deep chuckle vibrate against your belly. "You like that?" he asked, a teasing smirk on his face as he looked up at you through his lashes.

“Mhm..." You trailed off, your response coming out as a blissful moan as Ethan attached his lips to your still hard nipples. Both boys were now worshiping different parts of your bodies as if their lives depended on it.

It was hard for you to form words right now with the way Ethan and Rutger were teasing you. Rutger smirked up at Ethan as he kissed down your belly, his hot breath against the skin of your abdomen making that warmth pool in your belly already.

Tonight was supposed to be about you taking care of your boys, but right now, it seemed like your boys were taking care of you instead.

Rutger stopped his trail of kisses once he got to the waistband of your lace panties. Your eyes widened in disbelief, your heart pounded with excitement, and your pulse was felt in your most intimate area as you watched Rutger hook his finger into the waistband of your panties.

But his finger wasn't the only thing trying to take your panties off...

Rutger lowered his head so that he was now lined up with your clothed core that was practically dripping just from the sight of him.

He kept his blue eyes locked on yours as he bit down on the waistband of your navy panties. He slowly started to pull the fabric away from your waist. You lifted your legs slightly, giving Rutger just enough room to slide your panties down your legs with his mouth.

You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Not only could you not believe what you were seeing, but you loved what you were seeing.

You've never seen him act this way before. Something about the hungry look in his eyes as he stared at your aching, dripping womanhood made you feel another level of turned on you've never quite felt before.

Rutger ripped your panties out of his mouth and threw them off to the side with the pile of other clothes. He lowered his head back down to your dripping core, his tongue instantly lapping at your glistening folds.

Ethan has taught him very well.

"Oh- fuck..."you whimper out as Rutger ate you out like a starved man. The blonde chuckled against your folds, the vibration sending what felt like an electric shock through your body as it made you jolt. Ethan brought his veiny hands down to your thighs, keeping your legs spread open as his teammate buried his tongue into you.

“Keep ‘em open for Rut, pretty girl.”

Rutger moaned against your core as the taste of your sweet juices hit his taste buds. You tasted like sweet honey...

"You taste so good, Y/n." Rutger praised as he took a hand off of your thigh, placing it onto your womanhood and letting his thumb rub circles against your clit as he continued to lap at your soaked core. The feeling of both Rutger’s tongue and fingers sent you over the edge, turning you into a whimpering and quivering mess in no time.

You bucked your hips slightly as Rutgers movements quickened. His jaw clenched with each swipe of his tongue and the muscles in his forearm flexed with each stroke of his thumb. Your chest heaved as he licked a stripe up your core.

"Fuck Rut, don't stop..."

You brought your hands down to the back of Rutgers head, gripping the ends of his blonde hair as you pushed him closer to your center. Rutger panted against you, feeling your walls clench around his tongue as you grew close to your first orgasm of the night.

Ethan got on the bed behind you, holding you against his chest for support as Rutger quickened the movements of his fingers and rhythm of his tongue.

You let out a whimper as Rutger pressed down on your lower belly with his hand, trying to keep you still. He knew you were getting close from the way the your chest rose and fell, and how your hips were bucking every time his tongue swirled over your clit.

Ethan told him you did that when you were about to cum.

"That's it baby," Ethan praised, "Let him taste you."

You let out a few more whimpers, moaning Rutger’s name in pleasure as you felt the familiar warmth in your lower belly. Soon enough, your chest was heaving as it all came crashing down and you were overcome with complete pleasure and bliss. Rutger lapped up your juices with his tongue, pulling his face away from your soaked core.

He licked his lips dry, making sure to get every last drop of you into his mouth.

Rutger smirked as he watched you come down from your orgasmic high, your heaving chest soon going back to its normal rythmuc rising and falling.

"In all the the times I’ve hooked up with you, I don't think I've ever seen you cum that hard." He smirked, a sense of pride in his tone as he spoke. "That was hot.”

“All because of you.” You replied, still trying to catch your breath and recover from your climax.

Ethan pulled you up into a sitting position before crashing his lips onto yours. You changed positions and wrapped your arms around his neck, trailing your hands down his back as your nails dug into his skin.

You detached your lips from your boyfriends, instead kissing Rutger. You could taste yourself on Rutger’s lips as the two of you shared a passionate kiss. As his toned body was pressed against yours, you could feel Ethan’s erection poking at your thigh. He had been so turned on watching his best friend eat his girlfriend out. It was his turn to be taken care of now.

You were going to help him get away from himself for a few minutes...

You pulled away from Rutger, smirking up at the blonde forward as your hand traveled south to your boyfriends middle. Your hand brushed over his erection as you spoke, "Your turn, Ethan."

Ethan bit his lip in anticipation as he watched you slide out from the bed, moving so that you were now directly in front of him. You gave Ethan a sultry look as you slowly got down on your knees in front of him. Ethan felt like the luckiest guy in the world right now.

Not only was he happy with Rutger learning how to please you, but you were about to give Ethan the best blowjob of his entire life.

You reached out and palmed Ethan through his boxers, making him wince slightly at the feeling of your hand on his manhood.

"May I?" You asked, gesturing to his undergarments.

Ethan couldn't form words, so he just nodded. He needed you so bad.

He needed to feel your soft lips around him.

He needed to feel your soft hands around him.

He needed to feel you take him deeper, and deeper.

Ethan lifted himself from the bed, helping you remove his boxers from his body. Once the boxers were removed from his waist, Ethan’s impressive erection sprang free. He sat back down on the bed as you prepared to take him.

You gazed hungrily at him just like he did at you moments ago when you were the one being pleasured. You bit down on your bottom lip as you placed your manicured hands on Ethan’s thick, muscular thighs, spreading them apart as you slowly leaned down. Ethan closed his eyes as he waited for the feeling of your lips around him, taking him in deeper with each bob of your head.

You brought your lips down around the tip of his dick, pulling them off with a pop as your tongue teased his slit, licking the pre-cum off of the red tip. Between the feeling of your warm breath and your tongue toying with his manhood, Ethan threw his head back.

"Fuck," he groaned deeply as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. Your lips were sealed around the head of his cock, sucking and licking tentatively at his skin. Ethan bit his tongue, holding back the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape as you sucked him off. He let out a strangled sound as you took more of him into your mouth.

As you started bobbing your head, Ethan couldn’t stop himself from bringing his hands up to your hair and pulling you closer to him.

"Fuck, Y/n-," Ethan moaned out as you spit on his dick, jerking him off with your lips still around him.

Ethan hasn't felt this good in weeks. Rutger hasn’t felt this good in weeks.

The season was already putting a toll on the boys mind and body. But right now, neither of them were thinking about any of that stuff. All Ethan and Rutger could think about was you and how you make them feel.

You make them feel perfect. You always have and you always will.

You bobbed your head rhythmically, making Ethan moan in pleasure.

“You're doing so good sweetheart.” It was Rutger’s turn to praise you as he noticed the tears in your eyes from Ethan’s size, "So good."

You could tell Ethan was growing closer to his release because every time you bobbed your head you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth. Ethan’s chest heaved up in down as his face contorted into a look of pleasure. He let out a few grunts as he came undone in your mouth. You brought him into a pure state of bliss, something he hasn't felt in a while. You pulled your mouth off of him and swallowed, giving him a couple minutes to come down and recover from his high.

“Closer” by Nine Inch Nails begins playing…

You stood up from being on your knees, standing in between Ethan’s legs as you leaned down and crashed your lips onto his. Your mouths moved in perfect sync as you let him taste himself on your lips just like Rutger had done for you.

Ethan bit down on your bottom lip, making you wince slightly as he drew blood. You pulled away from him, locking lips with Rutger who was now next to you and Ethan.

Rutger licked the blood off of your lip before attaching his lips to yours. The metallic taste of your blood filled both yours and Rutgers mouths as the drops of crimson hit your taste buds.

Rutger continued to kiss you hungrily, his movements urgent as he gripped your waist with the pads of his fingers. He pushed you down onto the bed, bringing you underneath him as he hovered over you. Ethan inched closer to your ear, his hot breath on your neck sending shivers up your spine.

"We’re gonna fuck you till you're screaming our names and shaking so hard you won't be able to walk."

Your boyfriend’s husky voice and the words he uttered down at you made you bite your lip in anticipation.

Ethan gently bit down on your earlobe, slightly tugging on it as he brought his head away from your neck. Rutger hovered over you with his left arm on the mattress as his right arm played with you. He harshly kneaded your left breast as his thumb and index finger pinched your sensitive, hard nipple. Ethan did the same thing to your right breast as he began to suck relentlessly as your neck, making you moan in pleasure as he marked his territory.

Ethan and Rutger wanted everyone to know that your were theirs, and only theirs.

Rutger licked a stripe up your neck, his hot breath hitting your sensitive skin as he whispered huskily into your ear.

"Here we go."

He slid his cock into your slick entrance, burying himself deep inside of you. The feeling of his impressive length made your thighs clench and your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a moan. Rutger snapped his hips forward, making your hips buck up, matching his rough thrusts. You wrap your legs around Rutger, allowing him to thrust harder, faster, deeper.

"God," he groaned out as your walls clench around his cock, "You feel so good." His grunts mixed with the sounds of your moans and skin hitting skin.

Ethan could feel himself getting away from himself and his thoughts of the game tonight as he watched his teammate fuck you senseless. Each thrust of his hips and groan that escaped his lips had you all feeling pleasure in all the right places.

Ethan buried his face in your neck as you scratched harshly at Rutgers. Both boys left sloppy kisses on your neck as Ethan pulled his hips forwards, roughly thrusting into you with Rutger.

In and out. In and out. In and out. Each thrust grew deeper, the tip of Rutger’s cock hitting your cervix repeatedly made your body jolt with pleasure. You screamed his name as Ethan grunted under his breath.

"Fuck," he praised, "You feel so good, so tight."

Both boys continued to fuck you senseless, making you feel as if your whole existence was flawed as you laid underneath them. You immediately grew submissive from their touch, seeming to lose every ounce of dominance in your body.

The sounds of your moans filled the bedroom, as all you could smell was sweat and sex. After you let out a particularly loud moan, Ethan brought his hand up to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing you gently. You gasped at the feeling of your lovers hand around your neck as his ruthlessly thrusted himself into you, pushing deeper and deeper.

"Eth, Rut," you moaned out as you placed your hand over Ethan’s that was wrapped around your neck, "don't stop."

Rutger shook his head as Ethan removed his hand from your neck, instead placing it firmly on Rutgers chest. A bead of sweat trickled down the sophomore’s forehead before falling onto his lip. He leaned down and crashed his lips onto yours. You could taste the saltiness of his sweat as his tongue swirled around your own. Your bodies continued to move in a perfect rhythm as the three of you became panting and moaning messes underneath each others touch. You felt a familiar warmth pool in your lower belly.

You were so close.

"I'm so close." You practically whined as Ethan picked up the pace of his rough thrusts, with Rutger following suit.

Soon enough, your walls were clenching around them. The clenching of your slick walls made both Ethan and Rutger grunt.

Both boys could feel every inch of you from the inside, and it felt amazing.

"Fuck," Rutger growled, his deep voice making your body jolt in pleasure once again. The sound of him, the feeling of him, and the smell of him made you grow even closer to your orgasm.

Ethan could feel your walls clench once again, this time with more force. He knew you were close.

"That's it baby," Ethan pleaded, his chest heaving as he panted, "cum for me. Cum for Rut. We wanna feel you."

Rutger continued to pound into you, making sure you felt every single inch of him. The feeling of his large cock filling you up made your legs shake as you moaned in pleasure. You came down harshly on the boys manhood, your hands coming up to Ethan’s head and tugging at his dark brown locks as he and Rutger had you seeing stars.

You whimpered out Rutger’s name as your chest heaved up and down. You were completely blissed out as he continued to pump into you. He reached his climax shortly after you, groaning, and gripping onto Ethan’s thighs as spurts of his hot cum filled your insides.

Both Ethan and Rutger fucked you so hard that the three of you were completely blissed out, not thinking straight and feeling yourselves being brought closer to god. Rutger pressed his forehead against yours as you came down from your highs, chests heaving and bodies sticky with sweat.

“I love you so much.” He breathed out, his hot breath hitting your face as he spoke.

You didn’t know if it was the heat of the moment or if Rutger really did love you.

“I love you too Rut.” You said, your breathing matching his. You leaned your head against Ethan’s shoulder as you continued, “And I love you Ethan.”

Rutger pulled out of you and plopped down on the bed next to you and Ethan, pulling you into his side. You immediately melted into his touch, letting your backside lean against him as you wrapped your arms around Ethan’s sticky torso as

“That was amazing.” You said blissfully as you were stuck between your boys, “I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything except just lay here.”

Ethan smirked down at you as he gently stroked your bare arm with his fingertips. “Well,” he breathed out, “I think I should wear that backwards hat more often.”

“And I think I should score more often.”

You chuckled softly at both Ethan and Rutgers sly remarks.

“I think you should too.” You replied honestly.

hi loves!!

SOOOOO this was CRAZY. DIRTY. NASTY. INTENSE. if this made you uncomfortable i deeply apologize…this song, closer, if you haven’t listened to it…just do it once for the purpose of this fic. it’s such a catchy but downright dirty nasty smutty song😭

i also apologize if this was super cringy. i used some of the same stuff from digital animal, so that’s why some bits may seem familiar.

i wrote this fic about joe burrow over the summer and it got a lot of love so i figured i’d re-write it for my ethan and rutger girlies since digital animal seems to be a favorite ;) i love that you’ve all turned one fic into a whole au! i never thought it would turn to that, but i’m so glad it has. i love all of you and your amazing thoughts/thots😚🤍

as always, thank you for all of you kind words and support with my writing. you are the best! i love talking with all of you and getting to share my work with you. your constant sweet messages, asks, words of encouragement, and wonderful au and story ideas are what keep me going. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH🫂🤍

[princessofghosts-posts]

I'm going to put here half of one of the best scenes of HoO.

This is page 262 of HoH from XLVIII Percy's pov,basically a few seconds before Percy start to choke Akhlys to death because he couldn't take it anymore (we love him for that).

I'm not going to focus on the whole scene,because I already talked about that,but on a specific line:

He concentrated so hard that something inside of him cracked–as if a crystal ball had shattered in his stomach.

Now,on the surface it's just a phrase that make you understand how Percy is going against his limits to accomplish what he did next,straining himself in the maintime. And that's normal,after all he is going against a primordial,you can't win against someone older than the Earth itself if you don't put a great amount of efforts (even if realistically Akhlys would have their heads in not even a second).

But I think there is something more to it, especially in the "as if a crystal ball had shattered in his stomach" part. I think it's a symbolic way to make the readers understand that Percy is loosing it. The "crystal ball" in question is his moral code that got totally destroyed once they feel into Tartarus. So it rappresent,in a way,his sanity,and how he decided to ignore the logical part of himself and to go against those same morals he has,because he had enough. He was slowly going insane in this scene,and now that it got shattered? He is never going to recover from it,ever. Because Tartarus was too deep and left too much pain,he can't recover from it entirely but he has to learn to live and cope with it.

Another interpretation I also had about this,is the fact that the crystal ball could also rappresent his humanity. I already said that Percy is able to manipulate poison because there is still a bit of water in it,right? That's fine. But the Underworld's rivers? The jump he did from Nyx's maison that was too long to do even for a demigod? I think that is also a way to symbolize how Percy is slowly loosing the mortal part of himself,and is embracing more the godly side. And the boost of powers he has can be totally explained in this way in the narrative since he is slowly becoming more godly (we all know that Riordan favor him and make him do insane things but that's from a writing prospective,not from the plot).

Am I suggesting that with this he could probably ascend to godhood? Probably,but Percy refused that already. It's more of the fact that he is starting to disconnect more from the mortal world than before. Ever since HoO started he got totally cut off from his life,at least in PJO he had moments where he still went to school,stayed with his mom and Paul and actually lived his life like a normal teenager. In HoO we don't have those moments because they are fully immersed in the mythological part of their nature.

And only Percy had this type of reaction in Tartarus. Annabeth didn't felt something inside of her shattering,and I don't know for Nico (hopefully it happened to him too-) or even Will. It's only Percy that had this,and the chapter later we see him using his abilities (especially when they were going away from Nyx's territory) with a boost that wasn't never there before,since he was struggling at the start of HoH when they feel into the first river. I think it's connected to that. (Also,Nico had a boost of powers too,so,he probably had the same happening to him-).

You can totally say it's a narrative choice and I'm overanalyzing two lines that are there just to flavor the narrative more,but Riordan made sure to wrote that to make us understand how broken Percy was starting to be. Both power-wise and mentally. There is just something in that line that caught my attention and,to this days,is still one of my favorites too.

[cciwos]

𓂃₊ ⊹ 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 | corners

ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 ; '𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝐼 𝑔𝑜 𝑛𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑜𝑢𝑠

₊˚⊹ ᰔ . bff!jungwon + gn!reader ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

you always sat at the same table in the campus library tucked away near the philosophy section, where barely anyone ever wandered. it was your quiet little corner of the world, and that was enough.

until he started showing up.

at first, it was just once or twice. a boy with soft blonde hair, headphones around his neck, and a stack of neatly organized notes. he didn’t speak much, but his eyes were kind. you noticed he always brought iced americanos, even in the middle of winter, and that he hummed softly when he read. eventually, he started nodding at you in greeting. one day, he sat at the table across from you.

“hope you don’t mind,” he had said, setting down his bag.

you didn’t. you really didn’t.

you learned his name was jungwon. he was majoring in journalism, had a dry sense of humor, and was insanely good at keeping his cool in stressful situations, except when he was flustered. you’d seen it once when his pen rolled off the table and you handed it to him. his ears had turned completely red.

now, weeks later, it had become a routine. you studied together, occasionally exchanged playlists, and sometimes even shared snacks, him with his almond covered chocolate sticks, you with your matcha cookies. you didn’t call it hanging out, but it was.

today, though, he seemed… off.

he was quieter than usual, lips pressed in a line as he highlighted the same sentence over and over. after a while, you reached over and gently poked his hand.

“you good?” you asked.

he looked up at you, startled. then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “honestly? no. i’ve got this presentation tomorrow and i can’t get my thoughts in order.”

“wanna talk it out?”

he hesitated, then gave a small nod. “yeah. that’d help.”

you listened as he explained his topic, something about the influence of social media on modern journalism. his ideas were solid, but his pacing was off, and he kept second guessing himself. so, you offered feedback, helped him reorder some points, and reassured him when he looked unsure.

by the time he finished running through the revised version, he was smiling again.

“you’re kind of amazing at this,” he said, half laughing.

you shrugged, a little shy. “i like helping you.”

he was quiet for a second. then, without warning, he reached across the table and took your hand just lightly, fingers barely curled around yours.

“you always make things feel easier,” he said, voice softer now. “like i don’t have to try so hard to be okay.”

you felt your heart do something ridiculous in your chest. his hand was warm, thumb brushing slow circles against your skin.

“i like being around you,” he added, eyes meeting yours. “a lot.”

you smiled, tightening your grip on his hand just slightly. “i like being around you too. a lot.”

it wasn’t dramatic. there was no sudden music swelling or wind blowing through the window. just two people in a quiet corner of the library, holding hands over highlighters and iced coffee, finding something real between the pages.

and then, still holding your gaze, he leaned in.

there was a pause before he did, a heartbeat where everything slowed down. the buzz of the library lights faded, the tapping of keyboards, the low whispers behind bookshelves, all of it melted into a soft kind of silence. he was looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

you could feel the weight of his gaze, the tension in the air. his fingers twitched slightly in your hand, and you realized he was just as nervous as you were.

his face was close now, so close you could see the way his lashes framed his eyes, the faint pink dusting the tops of his cheeks, the way his lips parted like he was about to say something but thought better of it.

and then, finally, he closed the distance.

the kiss wasn’t rushed. it was slow, like he was still making sure it was okay, like he was still giving you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you leaned in too, eyes fluttering shut as your lips met his. warm, soft, and a little unsure at first, like you were both testing the waters.

your hand instinctively reached for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie sleeve, anchoring you to the moment. his other hand brushed lightly against your cheek before he let it fall to rest on the table between you, not quite touching, but close enough that you felt the presence of it. the kiss deepened just slightly, enough to steal the air from your lungs and leave your heart racing.

there was something unspoken in it. gratitude. relief. a quiet kind of affection that had been building for weeks in glances across the table and shared silences that felt full instead of empty.

when you finally pulled back, both of you blinked slowly, like coming out of a dream.

you felt your breath catch in your throat. he was still close, forehead nearly resting against yours now, his eyes searching yours with a kind of wonder, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

then, he let out a soft laugh, breathless and a little shaky.

“that wasn’t in my study plan,” he murmured, voice low and warm with something that felt dangerously close to joy.

you laughed, cheeks flushed, your voice lighter than usual as you teased, “guess you’ll have to make room for it.”

he smiled, really smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was genuinely happy.

“yeah,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing across your knuckles like a quiet promise. “i think i will.”

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 MEDICINE POCKET - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Medicine Pocket as a character and other related things.

started going thru my askbox, saw there's an insane amount of medpoc prompts, and then realized I haven't thought that deeply about this feral dog so here we are!

I missed doing analysis like this oooo the feeling of neurons making connections as I go thru the character's entire page oooo. since I still don't have them, screenshots and examples will be taken directly from the fandom wikia as usual!

On the subject of intersex identities, Medicine Pocket's mother and their gender identity.

It's worth noting that as of the time writing this (with GL currently in 2.2 and CN having just released 2.5) the game still has only two characters who have been confirmed to live outside of the gender binary, both released during launch; The Fool, who uses male pronouns but states that he has no gender, and Medicine Pocket, who couldn't care less about pronouns and explicitly mentions being intersex in one of their voicelines.

The game is consistent with this, as Medicine Pocket is often referred to with "they/them" pronouns, and occasionally "he/him," such as a daily tidbit from November 18th 2024.

As far as I know, they've yet to refer to Medicine Pocket with female pronouns.

While Medicine Pocket seems to approach the subject of gender identity as an afterthought at best and a nuisance at worst, never stating which labels they identify with, it's important to note that they're still openly queer. Upon a first reading, I didn't think much of them, but now I realize that a big chunk of their character does focus on their queerness in ways that are just as unconventional as they are.

Their 01 Story allows us to learn about Medicine Pocket's background, namely their mother, as it focuses on her for the most part. This is also the second instance of Medicine Pocket's status as an intersex person being brought up.

While I'm not intersex myself, I'm a nonbinary queer person who is fully aware of the many, many convoluted and cruel ways society has enforced in order to "correct" and assimilate us into the norm, such as conversion therapy and intersex surgeries, all done with the pretense of "helping us adapt." Medicine Pocket seems to be an example of this.

One may interpret this as a misguided but well-meaning attempt from a concerned mother, but I interpret it as a heartless moment of dehumanization.

In this Story, there is a very clear parallel being drawn between the dogs at the kennel she owns and her own child, between money as her only source of happiness and the necessity to pay for her child's operation.

Her entire world and business revolves around the kennel, it's stated to be a family business with good reputation, and the dogs are described as a positive thing--"man's best friend," and friends who can keep you company--but her reaction to both is of indifference and, at worst, contempt.

The priority here isn't the thriving family business, nor the dogs she's selling to the University of Utah, nor what will come out of the experiments they will go through; the priority is the money.

And what is this money for? Her own child's operation, with the specific intent of helping them become "an ordinary person." Not for their health, not because they asked for this--because she wants them to be normal, thus highlighting the themes of assimilation within society.

As seen before, Medicine Pocket confirms they lack any reproductive organs. I don't know enough to speculate or research what sort of medical condition they have, but the fact that they say "I just don't have any reproductive organs" could imply they did not receive that operation in the end. After all, becoming "ordinary" would imply living within the binary of female or male genitals exclusively.

With the lack of information about their childhood, I personally like to headcanon that this is when the parallels between Medicine Pocket and dogs continues from their mother's perspective; maybe the cons outdo the pros, maybe the procedure was too expensive, maybe she didn't feel like nurturing this specific puppy anymore, regardless of the reasoning, Medicine Pocket's mother simply chose to give them away to someone else who had a use for them. Exactly like the previous batch of puppies.

As agile as usual, her child got into the white van without looking back. That van had taken away countless almost-weaned puppies from their mothers, and on this day, it was doing the same thing to her.

Another personal headcanon I have following that one is that Medicine Pocket was given away for experimentation purposes given their uniqueness--an intersex arcanist child. It certainly lines up with other darker themes within the game, such as the treatment orphaned arcanist children receive within SPDM, the ableism and bigoted mindsets towards arcanists that parallel real issues in real life, and the appropriation of arcanist culture into human society, etc etc.

Of course, in retrospect, there is also something bittersweet in the way that the only thing Medicine Pocket seems to have inherited from their mother is the aspect of money, as a big part of their character is based around finding ways to receive funding for their experiments. Money is the focus of their Insight voiceline, their First Encounter voiceline also involves finding new investors, and there is a distinct focus on how much Medicine Pocket's actions COST Laplace overall, even in the Main Story. Their Story 02 is literally named "The Wrecker of Laplace" and involves their expenses report. This is a very small detail and connection, but I found it quite interesting!

The last thing I want to bring up for this specific bullet point is how Medicine Pocket grew up to be exactly everything their mother did not care about.

The opposite of an ordinary person; they are considered an unconventional albeit irritating genius within Laplace, as seen in their Storyboard.

They are a noisy dog who went out and pioneered an abundance of inventions and research, such as the development of Picrasma Candy shown above, their study of arcanist bloodlines and an arcanist's arcanum that later helps Enigma during Chapter 7 "Vereinsamt," and more. They are a team leader and a renowned, published biological researcher, as seen in the LSCC trailer and another voiceline of theirs.

It is a testament to Medicine Pocket's determination, stubbornness and self-centered personality, the way they were able to thrive in life and in every aspect that their mother did not care about nor support. And this aspect relates heavily to their Beast Afflatus and animalistic themes!

On the subject of Medicine Pocket's self-experimentation, animals and Laplace

We already discussed the way Medicine Pocket has been compared to the kennel dogs sold for experimentation, but we only explored this from their mother's perspective. On a general level, we can understand that Medicine Pocket's animalistic and dog-like behaviour exists because they were raised alongside these very same dogs, and their affinity for Beagles is a direct reference to the "Beagle Club" radiation experiments--it's a very clear motif within their character, but I would still like to expand on it a little!

First of all, we need to talk about Laplace, its ethics and practices. So bear with me!

Over the course of the recent patches, we have seen certain members of Laplace being shown together for most promotional material; this is later on confirmed within 37's Anecdote as a "friend group" consisting of 37, Mesmer Jr, X, Medicine Pocket and Ezra. For this discussion, we are going to set aside 37, an outsider to Laplace, and Ezra, a human character.

Both X and Medicine Pocket both have animals commonly used for experimentation as their Udimos; X has a Laboratory mouse, and Medicine Pocket has a Beagle puppy. On the other hand, we have Mesmer Jr. whose Udimo is not an animal, but a representation of the Artificial Somnambulism Therapy machine. With this, we can trace a pattern within the arcanists of Laplace, which paints them as not only expendable resources, but as something a little more tragic considering their respective themes--X, who harbors a deep-seated hatred for authorities that abuse their power (as seen in his own Anecdote), Medicine Pocket, who is based on the "Beagle Club" radiation experiments, and Mesmer Jr., who carries internalized bigotry for her own kind and is treated as nothing but an extension of her family's legacy.

While I won't be discussing the broad history of animal rights and ethics in experiments from real life, there are lines to be connected between these specific themes and the dehumanization of these characters--which also extends to the rest of members of Laplace like Lucy and Ulrich, by virtue of being Awakened and not being able to comply within the expected "norm" of humans, nor arcanists (the main theme of "Vereinsamt"). As players, we understand Enigma's reaction to Lucy being demoted, and there is a nuanced conversation to be had about the consequences of Lucy's orders even if they led to a great outcome; it is both tragic and inspiring.

But we must also understand this: Lucy's actions are still objectively within the scope of the Foundation's own history and ethics as I've mentioned them before, she is merely being used as a scapegoat due to the visibility of these casualties, which causes the Foundation to lose face.

And how does this relate exactly to Medicine Pocket?

Because their work ethic of self-experimentation follows this very same pattern. In the trail "Experiment Record" from Chapter 6 "E Lucevan le Stelle" Stage 19, which details the process of making Picrasma Candy safe for consumption, the extra addendums indicate that the one consuming all this candy during the experiments is none other than Medicine Pocket.

Their self-experimentation is only considered an issue and a nuisance because they are loud, reckless and take up space and resources. Because this is a coworker who canonically runs on all fours when excited, bites furniture and chases after frisbees, exactly like a dog.

Out of the three characters discussed before, only two are able to subvert the expectations of their respective Udimos: X and Medicine Pocket. The former by putting on an innocent and obedient act while doing whatever he wants behind the scenes, and the latter by being so shamelessly disobedient and self-serving that it is near impossible to stop them.

After a quick and surface look into why beagles were used for the experiments, some articles mention their docile and compliant nature, the total opposite of Medicine Pocket's personality. The subversion is clear there. Rather than being someone else's guinea pig, Medicine Pocket happily uses their own body as their main playground to test their experiments and research; look at their third item, "Beagle 0-1 Fluid Analysis Apparatus," which quite literally turns their own blood as a weapon, aside from monitoring their vitals. They have voicelines urging Vertin to give them a full dose despite the potential dangers, or noting the effects of another self-inflicted experiment--both their "Sleeves and Hands" and "Clothing and Torso" voicelines respectively.

Rather than assimilating within "proper" lab etiquette and polite society, Medicine Pocket is shamelessly themself above all, doing the things they want to do whenever they want to. There are many ways to read their character; perhaps, because their mother took away their bodily agency, they can now reclaim power over their identity by being as chaotic as a feral puppy or by using their body for self-experimentation. Perhaps they have a special connection with dogs because of the way they were raised and thus actively chose to act like one, since they felt more like family than their own mother, etc etc.

This aspect of reclaiming power over their own body and identity, alongside the way others openly disapprove of them for various different reasons, can be seen within the Beast Afflatus--which focuses on the focus of the individual, one's survival and struggle against traditions or systems that aim to contain them, the power and freedom to choose and carve a way for oneself. It's the struggle of one person against the majority. All of these things can be seen in Medicine Pocket!

Round of extra headcanons I didn't have the energy to fit anywhere else

I like to think Medicine Pocket's hair is white (simply because their eyebrows also seem to be white in art) so the brown parts are dyed specifically to look more like a beagle.

Alongside being intersex and nonbinary, they also couldn't care less about conventional romantic relationships--while uninterested in sexual relationships overall, I can see them having meaningless one-night stands for research specifically. They're shameless and very open about it. The only type of serious commitment I can see them having are QRPs, but their partners get bullied even harder by them so no one is sure if this is a good thing or not.

Medicine Pocket has one voiceline which states that they do even more fucked up experiments in the suitcase; I like to think they're the equivalent of the ThoughtEmporium over on Youtube, doing things like getting rid of their own lactose intolerance, creating meat grapes and such.

They just happen to be allergic to most things that dogs are allergic to. In the same vein, they bark but it sounds nowhere close like a proper dog's bark and everyone thinks its sort of cringe, but saying this out loud within their vicinity will only earn you One Huge Fucking Chomp from them.

Unlike Pavia, who does not quite keep track of the names of the wolfpack, Medicine Pocket can tell apart every single dog they meet, no matter how identical or how long it's been since they last saw them. They have a lot of knowledge on how to care for animals from their childhood, and often bring back all sorts of dogs; from rescues to literally stealing someone else's dog just be cause they thought its owner was being a shithead. It's usually a problem, because they often just sneak them into their office without telling anyone and suddenly it's Barbie's Great Puppy Chase Adventure in Laplace.

I also like to think that the dogs they're not allowed to truly keep are given away to people Medicine Pocket personally checks and makes sure will be a good fit for the dog.

[sgiandubh]

From barf bag to pity party

The whole 'Kick in the hornets' nest' involuntary series was started by this Anon, received by the de facto leader of the Disgruntled Tumblrettes yesterday evening (in Europe):

The next morning, another Anon chimed in, on the same page, with what prompted the First Kick: S has a child with 'a woman', but God forbid, not with C 🤣🤣🤣.

And then, one of their group felt the need (then the clearly irritated urge) to come back and comment on the above Anon. No less than 5 (five!) long and plethoric comments were written, prompting my Second and Third Kicks - as you all know, the woman practically begged for them.

I feel it's time to show some mercy and draw the line here.

This blog is read (and trusted) by many. Comments were received. Very interesting, matter-of-fact submissions, to say the least. You know: FACTS (🤣🤣🤣). People who have rich and full and loving lives, people who travel. People who don't even agree on many things, yet spontaneously concurred on what things very probably looked like, on that Palm Sunday morning.

Exhibit 1: Mom and Traveler #1 (a mom I am not - but I was a child, unbelievable as it might sound, and I absolutely confirm every single bit of it)

I am not yet ridden with dementia, and I remember very well waking everyone up at ungodly hours and refusing my mandatory afternoon siesta (a very bad habit we have in Southern Europe). I wish I would still have that same insane energy now. I also wish I would have kept my 3 year old fashion model food quirks - but that is another story.

However, I am a dog slave (not owner) and as such, I am taking Baby out for his short (but excruciating) morning routine at 7:30 AM. Come rain or shine. Beg him to finish his business with grace and dignity. He never listens. Labs are a charming, addictive handful and my Greek boy is no exception:

Exhibit 2: Mom and Traveler #2. Who happened to be in GLA on Palm Sunday, March 24, 2024 (for the thick people at the back!):

All that trip was abundantly documented on her own page. I am reasonably sure she might be reblogging this with her own pics from that day.

And now, for the real questions at stake:

Why make such an unbelievable fuss over an Anon with no pic, that I was reluctant to publish myself?

Why have a cosmic meltdown, in public nonetheless, if you do think this is such a pile of unbelievable nonsense crap? (*imagine the freakout in DMs, if this made the headlines!)

How many times has/have S (or C, or SC) been seen by Antis in GLA in similar postures, without a word being uttered in public?

Why would such an occurrence be An Event, outside of this (help me, I have no words) fandom?

Why insist with your crappy arguments, when it is plain to see you have got all your facts dreadfully wrong?

Why mention 'central Glasgow', when it is public lore (and included in Waypoints!) that S does not live there anymore? (* I blacked out the exact reference, which makes total sense - the least thing I would like to see happening is freaks like you stalking them)

One last time, you insist - comments 6 and 7 (wow, girl!):

First comment is a lie and if you read my Anon (and you know you all did and discussed it to oblivion) you'll have also read this:

Which part of 'he didn't approach' you don't get, in plain English, madam? I am lousy at drawing, but hey - for the cause (open in separate page, questionable humor included):

Second comment, I won't even get into it. God only knows what the hell you meant. I am Romanian and we tend to be a very sarcastic bunch - especially the Southerners.

You posted those at about 2:45 AM, local time (if you are, indeed, a Scot). That's 4:45 AM my time.

I am a lifelong sufferer of insomnia. You, madam, you are mad wae it, as they say in Glasgow.

Don't drink and post, seriously. It makes for a very #sorry hangover show.

And with this, I am done with you. All of you, in that corner. You showed me more than enough. You know there is substance to that Anon, despite the lack of a picture - hence the collective freakout.

From barf bag to pity party. Who knew?

[Later edit:] re-reading the sixth comment, I think she wants to imply it was the 'other child' - I was literally blind with sleep when I first saw it. Well, there is no evidence of whatever she is trying to explain (has she contacted The Climber? between midnight and 2 AM, local time?). Also, a 5 year old child is not a toddler anymore: kids are considered toddlers up to 3, only. That boy, as we all know (and I am sorry we do), has dark hair - where is the resemblance Anon noticed?

Desperate, grasping at straws, lying through her teeth and mad wae it, all the way.

@pamalissou, thanks for bringing us a third mom's POV in your reblog.

[mari-lair]

Oh ryuuxwq, I have many thoughts. So much so this feels like less of an analysis and more like me embodying this gif:

You have been warned, my thoughts will be below:

The theory Akane died and was rewinded back to life is one I really like, because Akane is the only character in the whole story that has two different bodies, which have been proven to be disconnected from each other (Being stabbed in his keeper form doesn't affect his human body, so it isn't a magical girl transformation. Is a brand new body)and he is arguably not alive in his clock keeper body, since he is not visible to people who aren't near death'

Which is weird, considering we never see these two seemingly disconnected bodies together, there is no "your human body falls asleep when you're in supernatural form" with Akane, no attempt to do the usual "your spirit and your body are different things" which most supernatural mangas do.

Even tbhk consider the soul and the body different things, otherwise Hanako wouldn't be able to possess Nene and 'borrow' her body.

So is not like Akane's soul is forcefully separated from his body when he transforms or that his watch literally gives him a brand new magical body. It's more like Akane time jumps forward to his own death whenever he uses his clock(?) or something equally as suspicious. Time nonsense is involved, that's for sure.

I have a theory that the clock keepers can mess with people's lifespan (said theory doesn't feel as wild as it used to now that we know they have enough power to recreate timelines, effectively changing MANY people's fate) considering Akane used to be a normal human who couldn't see supernaturals (so he wasn't near death) when the keepers were looking for recruits BUT the second Kako decided to form his contract Akane 'conveniently' started seeing them.

It's heavily implied the keepers stopped time when making a contract with Akane and being able to share their power with a human is a power in itself, so their habilities are far vast than the basic "mirai move time forwards and Kako moves it backyards." they are op as hell. Who knows if the flashback ending with Kako's clock means they went back to a time where Aoi was safe or if there is more being done here?

The thing that makes me the most confused is this:

Cause it raises the question "Can Kako rewind Akane's time now that he is an honorary keeper?" I was tempted to say "no, he can't mess with Akane's time" cause why would Mirai sacrifice herself to protect Akane if Kako could heal him as easily as a flick of his watch? I am aware Mirai loves Akane but that seems extreme of Mirai for a staged trial🤨

But if Kako can't mess with Akane's time it would means whatever they did to Akane messed with how he interacts with time itself. Do you know how insane that sounds, especially since his supernatural body grows with his human body (since his supernatural body isn't the body of a 12yo boy, like when he made his contract) everything would become 10 times more confusing if Kako couldn't alter Akane's time (plus, the idea he 'revived' Akane would become impossible)

So I went to the moment you mentioned, the one where Teru talked about Akane's lifespam being affected.

and Teru was wrong here. He had assumed Akane's human body would be badly affected by his wound, unaware both bodies are not connected.

However, both are under the assumption Kako can heal the stab wound.

Which have been proven correct (?) off pages since once the severance was over and Akane got to see the keepers again, he was healed.

He no longer has his stab wound caused by Aoi.

I now have the theory that Kako can rewind Akane's time but whenever he does it, it takes away some of his lifespan.

I think so for two main reasons, first it makes Mirai's sacrifice more serious and understandable.

I understand that Mirai loves Akane but unless there is a scene of Mirai feeling uneased by Akane's pierced and bloody stomach that we are missing, she should not save Akane? She is unbothered by dead or broken bodies, she know Kako for way longer than Akane and clearly love him lots but did not try to save Kako from his staged death, and she likes the idea of turning 'naughty kids' into sand (her rumors is about stealing people's time, and she literally lives with Kako, who can rewind time, so death isn't even relatively permanent to her)

She has always been like that, even Nene's dead didn't stick with her, she could be seen playing with Kako a few pages after the death reveal.

BUT it is important that she isn't as stupid as she acts, she understand the gravity of Nene's situation. She understands humans have lifespans and that even she can't overpower a death set by fate.

So her not wanting Tsukasa to pierce Akane's stomach, because she understands his lifespan would be reduced if Kako rewinded his time makes more sense to me: Even if the trial was a mockery, Akane's body isn't, his injury may be cured but he would have to deal with real consequences.

The second reason is because the theory that Kako's powers reduce people's lifespans would explain why Akane was able to see Kako when Kako needed him to form a contract, despite having enough lifespan to be oblivious to supernaturals before.

However, this paints Kako in a pretty dark light? It would recontextualize Kako's rewinding of the whole school and Akane's anger towards Kako during it all significantly.

It seems extreme??? Especially for keepers that went out of their way to rewind the timeline to save the students and the balance of the world? It also leave many questions about how much control Kako has over people's lifespans, or how much Akane, as a temporary clock keeper, is affected by it compared to other people?

So I'm still firmly putting this on 'cool theory to play with' territory instead of 'prediction' territory.

Regardless, it's clear the keepers are very powerful, especially Kako.

This just makes them pick Akane weirder right? They are powerhouses with the power of time and life on their hands, why pick someone as unremarkable as Akane?

I don't think is a 'you're the chosen one/your blood was in the prophecy' kind of thing. He is genuinely a normal kid of some random family. I don't think he secretly lied, cause Akane was oblivious about supernaturals before his contract and the manga never shows any signs the Aoi family is relevant in any way: No supernatural beauty, no connection to the Akane sacrifices, no suspicious wealth, or tragedy. Even Teru, who is our exposition guys have nothing to say about his family

I will admit that his past is vague enough that Aidairo could potentially reveal something 'special' about it, but I personally hope he remains a normal guy.

The "You're not special, you're replaceable" energy to his contract makes Akane's obedience to the keepers and his uncharacteristically pessimistic stance on the situation way more impactful than if it was a "YOU'RE A DESCENDENT OF THE KEEPERS OLD FAMILY ALL ALONG! THAT'S WHY YOU WERE PICKED!" situation, or something just as dramatic, and 'unique' so to speak.

I like to believe they picked Akane simply because he is a good pick. How do people always describe Akane? Responsible, dutiful, nice, wise, hard-working, stubborn. You need to have all these qualities to be trusted with a key that can change reality, someone too selfish, or too dumb, or too quick to give up regardless of their family name would be reckless with so much power.

Hell, most people would abuse the 15 minutes of stopping time that a keeper is given, but Akane always guards his power until the end of the day, and ONLY when no emergency happens did he use he pause Aoi's time to stare at her, something he always does without time being stoped anyways?? Something Aoi doesn't mind? Since she knows he is always keeping an eye on her??

So he basically wasted his 15 times cause he didn't know what else to do with it????? He really settled for 'i like watching Aoi, i'll increase a little the time i have to do this' ?? What a guy.

During his 3 years under a contract, Akane has never cheated on a test, tried to do anything he believes would make Aoi uncomfortable (like so much as poke her hand/hair/lips etc), or used to get revenge on teru. He was extremely responsible for the standard of a pre-teen who suddenly got powers (he was 12 when he first got the watch. he was a kid T-T)

He is a good babysitter to Mirai, no matter how much he feel some genuine resentment for what she did to him, he has a soft spot for kids and never want to hurt her. Just look at how gently he picks her up after he spend the whole chapter frustrated that she escaped. His hold was so loose and careful no wonder she easily escaped.

He has been working hard and doing more jobs than he should since he was a kid! AND HE DID THOSE JOBS WELL HE WAS DUTIFUL.

So he can work hard, he can do a ton of chores efficiently.

He must be one of the best interns the keepers ever got, cause they are way too happy to abuse their power and make Akane work like a dog.

So I genuinely think they picked Akane because his family name may be unremarkable as hell, but Akane as a person is perfect to have as a maid/babysitter/keeper-of-the-key-that-can-reset-timelines in the school.