#both having a cat and mouse element to them

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about the chess metaphor and Chris being used as a pawn in Helena and Ramons game.

How ballroom dancing is a bit like a game of chess and Eddie was the pawn in that game.

Both chess and ballroom dancing have clearly defined moves and sequences and patterns and there isn’t much room for ‘going rogue’.

Something something about trophies representing compliance in their game and giving them control over everything

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D

⊱ General Fluffy Headcanons ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Obsession/Possessiveness, Cultural Barriers (Mr. Scarletella Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions/Expresses Them Differently Than a Human Would). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~900 words Request: “Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D” Author’s Note: I’ll be honest with y’all, writing straight-up fluff for these characters is really hard to do lmao. I try to stay as canon-compliant as possible (it’s low-key a curse, but it’s such a great way to practice writing 😔), so I hope these are fluffy enough for you given, well… the source material as a whole haha. Mr. Scarletella wasn’t originally one of my favorite characters from the game, but he’s honestly starting to grow on me at a concerning speed – shout-out to all the artists on Twitter who have added to my enjoyment of this man. ✌️

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🩸: Whenever it rains, Mr. Scarletella is always standing right there next to you, holding his red umbrella over your form so you do not become drenched because of the dreary weather. He takes his job very seriously, too, not minding how cold water causes his clothing to cling to his already deathly cold skin. He does it with an ever-present smile, too, watching you with unblinking eyes while he happily follows you around. Mr. Scarletella doesn’t get cold, he typically doesn’t feel any physical sensation in the first place, so getting a little wet while being able to keep you dry is something he doesn’t mind doing for you. If you invite him to join you under the umbrella, he falters for a bit before eventually standing next to you, shielding both of you from the rain (he loves being able to stand that close to you – he can almost feel the warmth radiating from you, and he finds himself craving it even after the two of you have found somewhere to take shelter). 

🩸: If there’s something you express an interest in, whether or not Mr. Scarletella is around when you make the off-handed comment, you’ll wake up to it lying right in front of your door. It’s honestly a bit creepy sometimes, just waking up to the article of clothing you looked at for longer than three seconds or the book whose title you briefly mentioned sitting at your feet when you open the door. In the past, any gift he left used to just be haphazardly placed in front of the door, and it reminded you of when a cat would catch a mouse and bring it to their owner (you’re not going to talk about the time you woke up to a literal human heart waiting for you, though…). However, Mr. Scarletella noticed that humans who exchanged gifts typically had them wrapped in paper, so he started to mimic their behavior, too, in the hopes you would like them more. Sure, his wrap-jobs were bad, almost hilariously so, but it was the thought that mattered. 

🩸: Whenever he looks at you, his pupils further dilate (even more than they usually are – it’s almost to the point where his entire eye is purely black, the red of his irises lost in the dark void of his gaze). Mr. Scarletella loves being able to just look at you, needing nothing more in life. He’ll watch you with an unblinking stare while you do literally anything. Whether it be cleaning your home or making yourself a meal, he will observe you as if you were the most interesting thing to have ever existed. As stated before, Mr. Scarletella is very good at mimicking human behaviors so, sometimes, he’ll ask if he can join you in whatever task you’re doing. He’ll copy the way you clean the floors or perfectly execute chopping the vegetables for the dish you were making after showing him what to do a single time. He’s very pleasant to be with during moments like these since he’s very good at acting like a human most of the time (other times, though – say if you need something from the top shelf – his body will twist and morph in very unsettling ways... It just emphasizes that, even if he’s good at pretending, he still isn’t human at the end of the day).   

🩸: Being with Mr. Scarletella means that you cannot have an unserious relationship, it’s just not in his vocabulary (because he’s obsessive, especially regarding you). He’s devoted to you entirely – body, mind, and soul – gladly letting you have the red umbrella to do with it whatever you wish. He’ll shiver slightly whenever you hold it in your hands, your touch is so strangely gentle as you softly run your fingers along the handle or press a kiss to the unassuming object. It hurts but in a different way. A part of him wishes you would just throw the umbrella to the ground, dig your heel into it, and have him experience a pain that was easier for him to understand… but you don’t. He loves your sweet touches, even if it’s painful and causes his chest to ache. He finds himself wishing he could touch you in that way, too, his ghost-like caresses causing your skin to tingle with static whenever his feather-light hands graze over your flesh (he loves cuddles and loving touches, even if he can’t experience them with you in a conventional sense). 

🩸: If you ever find yourself being bothered by someone who won’t leave you alone or someone who won’t take no for an answer, well… they may or may not end up missing. If you don’t want Mr. Scarletella to take care of anyone who is bothering you for you, you’ll definitely have to explain that it’s not appropriate because of the differences in your cultures – death and murder are common in the other world, after all (I’d also explain to him that he cannot harm or threaten people you care about, either, since he honestly wants you all to himself). This does mean, though, that you know that you’re safe no matter where you are. Mr. Scarletella is always watching you so, if you find yourself in a situation where your safety is at risk, you honestly have nothing to fear. He’ll keep you safe – you’re his love, his world, his reason for living, and he won’t let someone else take that from him.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Hear me out, Virgin!reader and 141 are training in a large abandoned factory in the woods. You have to survive and not get caught by the other members. But Ghost catches you and suddenly realizes that he is obsessed with you. You can decide the rest. 

Also your writing 😘🤏

READ HERE

Okay, but wait... Why do I actually love this?!! Like the setup is so good I might explode. I love this idea of like an extreme game of cat and mouse where the stakes are high because of how everyone it a trained professional. Blood pressures are high, everyone is on constant alert, all that adrenaline is going to lead to things.

You're trying your best to avoid detection, but then Simon catches you by surprise which ends up with you getting pinned beneath him on the ground so you can't get away. "Seems I caught a little mouse. Did ya fuckin' think ya could get away from me?"

And as you lay there underneath him, panting and out of breath as he does the same, it's suddenly like flicking on a switch. Maybe there was a bit of faint interest before between you both, but he thought you were too innocent and you thought he would never go for someone as inexperienced as you that caused you both to stay away.

Now with you both heavy breathing in each others faces as you stare at him with those pretty eyes, you defenseless beneath him, the way you look on your back, it causes him all at once to realize that he needs you in the filthiest fucking way possible: in the middle of this dirty abandon factory, the rest of this training be damned.

Of course the others are nowhere near and things get heated pretty fucking fast. He'd start grinding into you like he has been starved for your body for far too long, getting harder and harder by the second until you can feel his cock thrust against you. At the same time he is wrenching up the bottom part of his mask to heatedly connect with your lips and caress any bit of skin he can find with his mouth.

And you are just falling apart under him, so caught up in the moment that you can't think at all as his body weight presses you into the broken flooring. It doesn't help that everywhere he touches makes you burn for more as he starts fiddling with your clothes to try and get them off. You are out of your element, but you don't want him to stop as he starts to undress you with desperate fingers clawing at your clothes.

But then somehow in the heat of it all you blurt out that you are a virgin and he stops cause now he's struggling. He wants to fuck your brains out, but not like this. If he's gonna be your first, he desperately wants to make sure it is an experience you won't forget and there isn't enough time for that here.

So, change of plans, but don't worry he won't leave you with nothing. Oh no, he's going to make sure that you get off in a way that will have you coming back to him once you return to base so that he can fuck you nice and proper, taking his time with you.

Give me a bit to write this out because yes yes yes I need this tension that is going to be built in this scene.

[thevtuberlestat]

i've seen a lot of conversation about the ways that armand tries to recreate the marius-amadeo dynamic with daniel. and like he absolutely does do that, but i also think it's a useful exercise to identify the places where his treatment of daniel is very different from the way that marius treated him and the role this plays in their character arcs.

[trigger warning for everything discussion of armand's backstory involves involves, including sexual violence, physical abuse, and CSA]

marius-amadeo starts with a rescue, starts with amadeo being totally overwhelmed by pleasure and beauty. there are hints of darkness/evil underneath it--notably amadeo notices marius' sharp teeth, amadeo feels unsettled by marius' art and possible blasphemy, amadeo knows there is something inhuman about the act of drinking his blood. but for the most part he has no information about what is happening to him AND no control in it AND the experience is pleasant. the shopping trip, the gifts, the art, being taken care of, even the sexual elements* of the dynamic are immediately gratifying despite him having no context or control.

on the other hand, i think it's important that daniel goes in with ALL the context, the knowledge that he is seeking a monster (though, to be fair, not the one that he finds), and specific understanding that armand is, like, maaybe a touch problematic due to all the murder and stuff. and i think it's equally important that the relationship immediately fucking sucks for daniel -- armand locks him in a cellar for days and then torments and pursues him across several continents. they are decently far into their relationship before armand starts to play nice with daniel -- the gifts and trips and money are absent at first, then present as kinda incidental to keep the game of cat and mouse going, then become a genuine element of their dynamic. that's also when the elements of armand "taking care" of daniel are introduced--armand pulling daniel into the shower (hey, bath scene, where have we seen this), armand cooking for daniel, armand holding daniel when he's sick/withdrawing/etc.

so the arc there is inverted. marius at first appears as a well of generosity and care and then slowly reveals a monstrous side, which armand appears as a monster and slowly eases into generosity and care.

control is also pretty different between the two dynamics. both armand and marius are deeply controlling -- marius literally owns amadeo and tells him precisely how to use his time, expects him to think/act in very specific ways, pushes him into sexual situations he's not comfortable with. armand tells daniel that his nights belong to armand, wakes him up and drags him wherever his whims take them, bosses him around, literally makes him wear his name around his neck, pushes him into sexual situations he's not comfortable with. there are different vibes to this control - marius' status as head of household is societally sanctioned and his interest in amadeo's education often makes him come off as much more paternal, while armand's tendency to have daniel organize his plane trips and arrange business expenses makes him come off more as a boss, but enforcement is also really different.

marius enforces his will mostly through acts of physical abuse and expects strict compliance. the physical abuse spills messily into their bdsm dynamic (i would say there are several points in TVA where the lines between "i am punishing you for real because i'm mad for real" and "this is sexy punishment" are SUPER blurry, but i digress). marius grows angry with amadeo and hurts him until amadeo changes his behavior.

the pattern of control between armand and daniel is different from this in pretty substantial ways. armand doesn't tend to punish daniel's behavior with expectations of compliance -- he seems to badger daniel into doing what he wants through persistence, annoyance, and just sorta pushing him into it. see-- armand waking him up in the middle of the night, armand bugging him until he calls paris, armand physically pulling him around to do whatever it is he wants to do. when daniel puts his foot down and leaves, armand... doesn't tend to do anything about it. there's no system of punishment, there's no system of enforcing his will beyond wearing daniel down.

which i think brings me to my last thought. the movement between the two relationships differs in really interesting ways. marius leaves amadeo in venice, again and again, to visit the ones who must be kept. his tendency to skip town is the biggest point of conflict between them, and amadeo's reactions to this strongly shape the narrative. marius goes, amadeo stays.

meanwhile, with armand and daniel, it is daniel who leaves, again and again, before ultimately choosing to go back to armand, growing sick of it, and running away again. armand tries to spoil him, the attention grows suffocating, and daniel runs again. this feels notable. armand tries very desperately to seize full control of his relationship and still, five hundred years later, he's the one being left behind, the one waiting. *obviously, amadeo is being sexually abused; it is still sexual assault even if it is physically pleasurable in that moment -- i think the scene makes it clear that amadeo is pushed to do something he wouldn't have chosen to do on his own.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Cat-and-Mouse

Cowboy! Logan X F! Reader

You can run, but he'll always catch you

A/N: A lil hint of the dynamics between reader and Logan in the cowboy!Logan series that I will eventually (hopefully) write. This could be considered standalone tho! also this isn't going to be the only fic where you get lasso'd by Logan (im a lil obsessed w the idea)

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, CNC elements but not really?, unprotected PiV, you get Lasso'd and tied up lol, creampie, it's complicated style relationship, possessive logan, a little bit of mean!logan too, outdoor sex? kind of a plot

Your feet pounded against the dirt as you ran.

Your heartbeat flooded your ears. Adrenaline coursed through your body, pushing you faster than you ever have before. Your hair and dress were with the wind as you ran. You nearly tripped several times from your skirt tangling with your legs. 

Ahead all you saw was a dirt road, lined with trees, towering over you- silent watchers. It seemed endless but it was the only option you got. All roads lead to somewhere. 

The thundering of hoofprints was distant, but there.

Reason told you, you weren’t going to win this chase. Panic pushed you faster, beyond your limits.

You hear a sound of a rope, as you turn your head to see a lasso twirling through the air, before being tossed in your direction. The feeling of a rope wraps around you, tight, constricting your arms to your torso, and pulling you back with a harsh tug. You landed into the dirt, your body rolling backwards as it followed the tug of the rope, making your pretty white dress dirty, and your face smeared with dust. 

You pant, your lungs desperate for you, your head screaming at you to get up. You rolled to your side, but the wind had been knocked out of you so fiercely you couldn’t utter the strength to get up.

You heard the sound of a horse huffing nearby, before the sound of boots landing into the dirt. A steady, slow walk towards you, the jingle of spurs filling you with anticipation. 

“Well now. You enjoy that run, little rabbit?”

You open your eyes, squinting up at the sky where the sun blinded you until he came into view. His body shielded you from the sun's harsh light, but created a foreboding darkness as shadows covered him as he looked down at you with a smirk. 

He leaned down, a small grunt escaping him, as he picked you up with ease with one hand, grabbing your arm and bringing you to your feet. He turned you around roughly, binding you with the lasso, tying it- not uncomfortably, but reminded you that you were bound and helpless to him. He spun you back around, his hand coming up to clench your jaw.

“I thought we were done with that little cat-and-mouse game.” He mumbles. “Trying to break an old cowboy's heart?” 

You scowled at him and he forcefully tightened his grip on you. Pulling you closer, and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Do I need to remind you of a few things?” 

You yelped as he lifted you up, throwing you over his shoulder with ease like a bale of hay. He clicked his tongue, 

“C’mon Cinnamon.” He orders his horse, who then follows him at will, as he begins walking down the road. You attempted to wiggle from his grasp, but his hand came up, smacking you harshly on the ass, making you yelp- and cease your struggle. “Settle down there bunny.” He taunts, making your face hot in embarrassment. 

He didn’t carry you for long, just somewhere off-road. Cinnamon was left to graze while he put you somewhere more secluded. He dropped you onto the grass, gently but still made you gasp. You struggle a bit, pushing yourself to sit up, as he stands over you and watches with disappointment.

“Logan.” You looked up at him angrily. 

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. 

“Let me go.”

He clicked his tongue, baring his teeth as he sucked air through them. Look up and around at the nature that surrounds you both. A small clearing with a nearby pond. It would be a pretty place to relax in- if it weren’t for your current circumstances. He looked back down at you, and you saw a flash of anger on his face that sent chills down your spine. 

He kicked your legs open roughly, kneeling down between them as his hand went around your neck, pushing you back onto the grass, before hiking your dress up to your waist as his other hand cupped your clothed cunt. You let out a whine, turning your head away from him.

He chuckled. “I told you. You’re mine now.” He says lowering himself to your ear. His fingers pushed your panties aside, brushing through your folds, making your hips involuntarily thrust. “You still got me leaking out of ya, and you thought you could run?” He tsks. 

You turned your head to look up at him, a pout on your lips. 

“Should’ve kept you tied up but I thought you were smarter than that.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, his nose bumping into yours as his lips sit a mere inch away. 

You began to tip your head up to kiss him, but he pulled away. “Nice try.” He smirked, before his eyes flashed with possessiveness, and his voice turned low. “You’re going to pay for that lil escapade you just did.” 

He sat back up, undoing his belt and holster, dropping it to the side. He shoved his pants down to his thighs, and his thick cock popped out, hard already. He pushed your skirt father up, pulling your panties off you. 

In a swift movement, he grabbed the rope bounding you, pulling you onto his lap. You felt his cock brush over your folds and the chilling warmth of fear and arousal rushed over you. Taking his hat off, he placed it over your head firmly.

He leaned back onto the grass, gazing at you above him, as he goes and pushes you up, before angling his cock at your entrance. 

“Go on. You don’t got a choice.” 

Your lips parted, a gasp escaping you as your head fell back, the stretch as you began to lower yourself over him, pain and pleasure wrapped into a delicious combo that made your thighs tremble. You purse your lips together, before looking at him pleadingly.

“C’mon now. None of that. You took me so well last night darling.” He purred. “and I know you loved every goddamn second of it. Get moving.” 

You continued lowering yourself onto him, down to the hilt. Tears well in your eyes as you attempt to adjust to the size of him. Somehow, it felt harder lowering yourself over him- than it did when he fucked into you. He knew how to take care of you better than you did yourself.

“Goddamn sweetheart.” He let out a groan, tipping his head back for a moment as his grip tightened over the rope.

His hand caressed your thigh. He didn’t loosen his grip on the rope that bound you. A small tug of the rope, and an order. The sound of his voice dared you to disobey.

“Now, ride me cowgirl.” 

With a trembling body, you began to lift yourself up, and back down his cock. Without the use of your arms to support yourself, you find more strain in your legs as you attempt to move up and down his girth. 

Not wanting to disappoint- or anger him more, you pushed through it. Small whimpers escaped you, as pleasure began to erupt through your body. The ache melted into something honey-like. Your arms pressed into the rope as you arched your back, wishing to go faster but not having the strength to. 

His hand continued caressing your thigh, as he watched you with satisfaction at seeing you bound and struggling. Your cunt was squeezing so tight around him, despite how he had fucked you last night. It was cute, how you thought you could get away from him.

Maybe you did. Several times in fact.

He always found you. He always will.

You crawled under his skin. Become an itch he can’t scratch - only you could. 

Your thighs were beginning to give out. He could see the tears threatening to break through as your lips parted. Your previous cardio had already left you exhausted, and now you were at your breaking point, your vision becoming blurry, as the burn in your legs started to numb. 

Suddenly, your world shifts, and you feel the cool grass on your back. 

A hard thrust left you whining Logans name. A warm chuckle graced your ears. 

“Let this be a lesson, little bunny.” He says, his gloved hand softly brushing some hair out of your face, before gripping it and making you open your eyes and look at him. “You can run, much as you want, but I’m always going to find you.” 

You let out a soft gasp. “Logan.” 

“Hm?”

“I just want to keep you safe.” 

The hardness on his face softens. He leans forward and captures your lips in a possessive kiss. Slowly he began moving his hips against yours, thrusting in and out, small hiccups escaping you as you attempted to kiss him back. 

His arm wrapped around your back, adjusting you by lifting your hips higher, the angle sent you careening, as his cock continues to bury himself inside you over and over. He moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin. You heard small grunts escaping him with every hard thrust inside you. 

You wanted to grab him, hold onto him as he claimed you. The lasso he had caught you with, tied you, kept you restricted from him. His own barrier he’s made between you- yet doesn’t acknowledge. 

His thrusts become erratic, his grasp around your waist becoming tighter as he buries himself into your neck. His hand braced into the grass next to your head digging into the dirt. You let out a cry tilting your head towards, as you felt your own overwhelming finish approach. A tight sensation in your lower belly that finally snaps at his next words,

“You’re mine-” He growls. “No ones fucking taking you from me. Got that?”

You moaned, tipping your head back as relief washed over you. Pleasure rolled through in waves as you squeezed him over and over, now merely rutting into you until he came to his own finish, burying himself inside you as he let out a guttural moan. He takes a moment to catch his breath, before pulling out of you. 

He sat up, pulling his pants up over himself, setting the buckle back in place as he looked down at you. Seemingly hypnotized by your ruined form. Your legs spread wide still, as you shook, and his cum beaded out of you slowly. Dirt covered your dress and skin. Your hair was a mess. 

“Think ya got the message now?” He says in a low grumble. You opened your eyes and looked at him. You didn’t respond. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t consider yourself his. At this point, you were utterly devoted. Your lives though were complicated. 

You couldn’t risk losing him.

He smirked. “No? Guess I’ll just have to keep ya tied up darling.”

[doumadono]

Upper Moons & Muzan in heat - headcanons

Warnings: fem!reader, some extra short smut, suggestive content Synopsis: If Muzan and the Upper Moons were in heat, how would they behave? Requested by: @within-eyesight ♥

MASTERLIST

Muzan

When Muzan Kibutsuji, the progenitor of demons, enters his heat, his desires become insatiable. Known for his pride and desire for control, Muzan prefers to initiate spicy time by seducing his chosen partner, whether it's a demon or a human. He uses his supernatural charm and allure to captivate them completely. Muzan's approach is subtle yet forceful, employing a mix of his demon powers and charismatic personality to bring his partner under his spell. Once he has them fully enraptured, Muzan revels in dominating them completely, pushing their limits and indulging in their darkest fantasies.

​Kibutsuji, his eyes glowing crimson, leans in close to you, a human whose heart races in both fear and anticipation. He runs a slender finger along their trembling jawline, relishing the way your breath hitches in response. "Oh, my dear, you have no idea how desperately I crave you. Your every breath, your every moan will be mine to savor. Surrender yourself to me, and I promise to show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams." His voice drips with a potent mixture of desire and command, sending shivers down your spine. Muzan's predatory gaze never wavers as he slowly traces a trail of delicate kisses along your neck, his lips brushing against your skin like velvet.

You remain unaware of the exact moment when and how Muzan overpowers you, pinning you forcefully to the wooden floor of his chamber. His immense weight presses down upon you relentlessly as he thrusts his cock back and forth, filling the room with the sounds of his deep grunts and your subdued whimpers. Desperately, you clutch onto his shoulders, clinging for dear life.

Douma

Douma, the Upper Moon Two, has a reputation for his sadistic and playful nature. When he experiences his heat, he becomes even more mischievous and unpredictable. Douma initiates spicy time by luring his desired partner into a twisted game of cat and mouse. He enjoys toying with their emotions, tantalizing them with hints of pleasure while also teasing and tormenting them. Douma's approach is characterized by a constant push-and-pull dynamic, alternating between intense moments of passion and sudden withdrawal. He thrives on the thrill of the chase and the element of surprise, making the experience an exhilarating rollercoaster ride for both himself and his partner.

​Douma smirks devilishly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he toys with you, a mere human being who struggles to resist his charm. He teases you with a sultry laugh, his voice tinged with anticipation. "Oh, my sweet little plaything, you can try to run, but we both know you'll come crawling back for more. The game has just begun, and I can't wait to see how long you can withstand my insatiable appetite." His voice carries a seductive lilt as he closes the distance between you, his fingers dancing along your exposed skin of your shoulders with featherlight touches. Douma revels in the power he holds over you, your reactions fueling his insatiable desire for control.

With both legs positioned against his wide shoulders and your head tilted back, you express audible pleasure by moaning and screaming his name with every forceful motion Douma delivers, intensifying as he penetrates you deeper due to the angle, his sturdy grip caressing your breasts as he pounds into you with full force.

Akaza

Akaza, also known as Upper Moon Three, is a relentless and fierce warrior. During his heat, his primal instincts take over, intensifying his already formidable strength. Akaza initiates spicy time by engaging in combat-like foreplay, combining his martial arts prowess with his desire for dominance. He enjoys testing his partner's resilience and stamina, pushing them to their limits physically and emotionally. Akaza revels in the raw power and passion of the experience, seeking to establish his dominance over his partner. However, beneath his aggressive exterior, Akaza also craves a genuine connection, albeit in a somewhat twisted and possessive manner.

​Akaza, his eyes burning with a primal fire, circles you, a brave human who stands your ground despite your trembling, trying to fight him. His voice carries a hint of aggression, mingled with desire. "You dare to challenge me? Your strength is admirable, but it's your resolve that entices me. Let's see how long you can endure my touch, how long you can withstand the overwhelming heat that consumes us both." His deep voice resonates with a mixture of dominance and longing as he closes the distance between you, his powerful aura enveloping you. Akaza's touch is both demanding and tender, leaving a trail of heat in its wake as he explores your body with possessive determination.

Soon, you're riding him, feeling the touch of his calloused hands on the curves of your waist, urging you to quicken your pace with each movement of your hips. Akaza's head tilts backward as he endeavors to enhance the pleasure, meeting your rhythm by thrusting his own hips into you, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix with each push.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo, the Upper Moon One, embodies elegance and refinement. During his heat, his typically composed demeanor becomes more intense and passionate. Kokushibo initiates spicy time by creating an atmosphere of elegance and sensuality. He engages in elaborate rituals and ceremonies, drawing inspiration from traditional Japanese aesthetics. Kokushibo's approach is marked by grace and precision, focusing on the art of pleasure and the exploration of his partner's senses. He values the harmony of body and soul, seeking to transcend the physical realm through a deep connection with his chosen partner. Kokushibo's desires are a delicate balance of refinement and primal urges.

​Kokushibo, his dark hair cascading around him like a waterfall, gazes into the eyes of yours, a human filled with a mix of curiosity and nervousness after meeting Upper Rank One for the very first time. He speaks softly, his voice resonating with elegance. "Ah, my dearest child, let us transcend the boundaries of pleasure. Through artful touch and sacred connection, we shall discover depths of ecstasy beyond mortal comprehension. Allow me to guide you on this exquisite journey of the senses. Trust me." His words hold a poetic quality, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom and desires. Kokushibo's movements are graceful as he traces intricate patterns along your skin, every touch deliberate and filled with reverence. He revels in the symphony of your desires, seeking to create an experience that blends the physical and spiritual realms.

You find yourself on all fours, feeling the weight of Kokushibo's strong hand pressing your head firmly against the mattress as he thrusts into you with an intense, primal rhythm, his grip tight on your hip as your plump ass jigles with each of his thrusts. You can't help but anticipate the bruises that will surely adorn your hips tomorrow.

[circus-clangen]

Can u tell us about ur process woth designing Candy and Peanut?

Absolutely! This goes hand in hand with this ask

So here’s kind of an all-encompassing “how Lynx designs these freaks” guide.

FIRST OF ALL

The name of the character almost always reflects and influences the design of the character. RNG assigned Tigertoe’s kits the names “sandykit” and “nutkit”, so honestly I didn’t have to do ANY thinking to decide what to name them.

I didn’t have to change much from Candy’s sprite as far as colors go, because she ALREADY was just built like a box of conversation hearts

For Peanut, I at first considered desaturating and warming his colors up to make him more peanut colored, but ultimately decided against that. Instead, I interpreted his spots to be like the shape of the indents on a peanut shell

SECONDLY

I know this isn’t always possible but I also pulled a lot from the designs of Candy and Peanuts family members for their designs.

Candy, for example, I wanted to strongly resemble Marquee but with a lot of Trapeze mixed in. Her face shape and eye shape are directly taken from Trapeze, whereas the shape language of her fur and her coloring is directly taken from Marquee.

For Peanut, I wanted him to strongly resemble Tiger and Ringstar…. (🦅), so he has Tiger’s face shape and goatee, as well as shape language, but he has that kind of weaselly hunched lankiness that Ring has.

These are both VERY OUTDATED because I designed them as adults to de-age to kit designs OVER A YEAR AGO but the general shapes and body types hold true… plus you can see me trying to make Peanut beige which I ultimately decided against

THIRDLY

I tend to have a very strong sense of what I want a character to look like, even if I don’t quite know what it is and have to do a ton of drafts to get there.

For candy and peanut, I knew I wanted her to look like she’d experienced nothing but horror and agony since before the womb

And I knew I wanted Peanut to look like this

Very dorky and unserious, so I gave him big ol front teeth and big round mouse ears

And LASTLY,

Design your characters and with what you like and what works for your story! You can see my designs change as my preferences and story needs change!

the designs start off very goofy and bright, because the story started off as a joke and something I did for fun, never intending to share

Once I put Circusclan on tumblr and it started to not only gain attention because become a scarier, more puzzle oriented story, I changed their designs to still be fun and silly and cartoony but also flexible enough to fit in with more serious scenes

And more recently, after deciding I wanted to go FULL scary beginning with moon 20, their designs changed to not only reflect the increasingly serious nature of the story, but also to reflect with some degree of realism the lore of cats who were really sentient enough to make similar stylistic choices to humans. Colors changed to show dying, hair changed to show cutting and styling, and accessories changed to reflect a more practical handmade nature, not to the mention the period the comic is set in.

And… most importantly…

Accept feedback, practice a lot, but ultimately trust yourself! Only you truly know what kind of design you want and what kind of a design fits your story. Don’t sacrifice your favorite design elements just to please others or just because it ‘doesn’t really make sense’. You want people to love your designs because they’re YOUR designs, so take whatever it is that you specifically enjoy about the design process and run with it! Make it your own! Don’t be afraid to really take your time and really pour your heart into a design.

ABOVE ANYTHING, you want your characters, your designs, and your story to be meaningful to YOU. Mess around, try things out, have fun, and all the while you’ll be building a design style that is markedly and distinctly unique and your own.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Sidetracked

The Ghoul (Cooper Howard) x F!Reader

Summary: Your mother is the matriarch of one of the largest merchant houses and crime families in the state of New California. Her reach extends as far as the Mojave. She has ten children—you are only one of them—yet you dare to have the gall to steal from her for a better cause, a different future. Will you be able to make a new life for yourself? Will her hired merc, the Ghoul, turn you in for caps so that she can take her sweet revenge? Or, will you strike a bargain with the man himself?

Warnings/NSFW 18+ for: Foul language, PiV sex, doggy-style, cunnilingus, sass, brat-taming, mild non-con elements, fingering, cum eating, tit-fondling, roughhousing, face-sitting, cat and mouse chase, and use of rope as a restraint. There is a mention of you/reader having a mother and siblings.

Word Count: 6.7k

Notes: This is my first time writing for the Ghoul, though I have written for both Hancock and NIck Valentine in the past! I'm a slut for Cad Bane (Star Wars), another hot n' sexy bounty hunter with a bad attitude, so diggin' the Ghoul tracks. This reader and her backstory are loosely based on the Van Graffs from Fallout: New Vegas.

Reblogs / likes / comments appreciated! You will find the ending makes a part two entirely possible, depending on if I ever decide to write one. :D

Ao3

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

The bastard had a voice like flint—smooth, with a hard edge—a needle of frustration piercing the Ghoul’s otherwise calm disposition. He’d been hot on your trail for days, but his little plaything had always been one step ahead—until now, that is—the bounty hunter having finally cornered his quarry in a rundown, ramshackle, shithole of a town that had a bare-bones population of one—you—not countin’ the ferals.

You were cowering behind refuse outside a dilapidated warehouse, he was inspecting his top-break custom revolver, preemptively reloading after wasting shots on two necrotic roamers that had almost interrupted this little shindig. The barrel snapped back into place with a resounding crack that made you wince, convinced he wasn’t out to kill you, though he was putting on quite the show.

“Here’s the thing, sweetheart—the way you’ve been hoarding bullets for that ten millimeter of yours, I’d say you were about out of ammo. ‘Course, that won’t do you a bit of good now you’ve got five or six man-eaters just to the south, and me right here in front of you. Thinkin’ it’s about time you and I had a little heart-to-heart, whaddaye say?”

“Fuck you!” you seethed, teeth clenching as you grappled your wounded arm. The bullet hole had been placed there by none other than your pursuer some two miles back, the trek through the barren wastes taking its toll—along with a fair amount of blood loss—yet you would persist.

You had managed to lose him outside New Reno in a place that used to be called Silver Springs. A settlement had cropped up, but of course the shopkeep had been all out of stims, and there was no medical doctor on hand.

Once the streets started to clear, you knew he had arrived; you snuck out the back like a proper scoundrel before he could sniff you out, giving yourself at least one hour’s head start.

“Now, that ain’t necessarily off the table for a pretty girl like you, but one thing my momma taught me back some two hundred years…” he paused for dramatic effect, the shit-eating grin he bore edging its way into thick, mocking words, the Ghoul’s charming drawl sending unwelcomed prickles down your spine.

“It’s fine to play with your food, as long as you still eat it.”

Fear overtook you, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your fight or flight response threatened to kick in. The hunter was merciless, hounding you like a bloodthirsty dog out to appease its master—the woman had who had put the price on your head, and a hefty sum at that: your own mother, the matriarch of your dear family.

You stalled for time, attempting to concoct a plan of action in order to get yourself out of this mess. “I’m sure you’d love the way I taste,” you quipped, looking desperately to the left and right for any semblance of an escape route—you may as well have been trapped between a rock and a hard place, either forced to give yourself up, or to risk your life at the hands of irradiated zombies that would just as soon tear you apart as they would look at you; you only had three bullets left.

The Ghoul sucked his teeth, a two-stop articulation of his tongue, clucking the roof of his mouth. He found you to be amusing, a cynical shake of his head signaling he wholeheartedly disagreed.

“Ya know, the old lady didn’t specify dead or alive… We could always test that little theory of yours, if only you’d come out, come out, wherever ya are,” the demon taunted, standing to his full height as he left the cover of an old newspaper stand.

The merc adjusted his Cattleman crown, stepping over bits of debris and rotting wood, distressed leather boots dusting up dirt as he traipsed lazily toward the sound of your voice.

“I imagine what with havin’ nine other kids, she ain’t too worried ‘bout losin’ one —especially a traitor.”

“I’m not a traitor!” you shouted without thinking, voice laced with indignation. You kept your place, despite the Ghoul inching his way forward, thinking perhaps he could be persuaded to your side.

“Mother hoards resources, has anyone killed who looks at her funny, refuses to cooperate with the New California Republic, and all in the name of profits!” you glowered. “The whole family is greedy! Just waiting around for her to die, fighting over whose next in line to run our ‘Empire!’ I’m sick of it!” you emphasized, tone rising in pitch as your temper began to soar.

“Well, now I’ve heard everything…” He was closer now; you clutched your weapon so hard your knuckles changed colors, knowing you wouldn’t stand a chance against this asshole if he got his hands on you. Your mother was always hiring mercs to do her dirty work, and this was no exception.

“Sick of bein’ rich and powerful? Always gotta be one good one outta the bunch,” he lamented, tone dripping with sarcasm, the Ghoul reminiscing on pre-war oligarchs and their self-righteous offspring. He vaguely recalled a princess being a do-gooder, until the royal family had called in a hit and done her in.

He halted his trek through the sand, giving a curious tilt of his head. This would be the first time you saw the man up close, peeking out to be met with two hazel eyes, bichromatic, like radial sunbursts, blues and browns culminating together like sand and ocean in a mix you had a hard time denying was anything but beautiful.

You scowled, readying your pistol. “The world’s fucked!” you growled, “and someone’s gotta unfuck it, get it? Even if only one piece at a time!”

You bit your lip to distract from a sudden flash of pain in your bicep, your next few words riddled with ache, an audible quaver unable to be obscured, even by your anger. “It may as well be me! Someone who has something to give back,” you argued, wanting to use your family’s powerful position to others’ benefit.

The Ghoul didn’t bother to move, watching as you recoiled to take cover once more. He was well aware of your gunshot wound, thinking maybe he could talk some sense into you before things escalated, not that he cared either way—he would get paid regardless.

“Too bad about that arm,” he commented offhand, feigning concern; you thought he sounded bored, realizing he was humoring you by letting the conversation go on for this long.

That, or he liked to hear himself talk.

“Now, you decide you want to behave yourself, I got somethin’ to patch that up, and maybe you’ll just make it out of this alive.”

“Or—” he paused, what was a brief silence feeling like it would stretch on forever. You grew impatient for what you knew was going to come next: some kind of threat of intent to injure, or an appeal to any remaining gumption—you had plenty. “—I could put a bullet in that pretty head of yours and drag you back to Redding; seems like a waste on two counts, one being the ammo.”

“That’s about as far as I’m willin’ to elucidate,” the Ghoul warned, his voice decidedly calm, easily demonstrating the seriousness of your predicament and demarcating his lack of patience. “So, what’ll it be? You bein’ a good girl for me, or are ya gonna make this hard?”

It was obvious this man would only answer to two things: brute force, or cold, hard caps. You had neither, at least not on hand. What you did have were those three bullets. You dared to use one, knowing that the Ghoulification process did not make one immortal on all counts.

You had enough target practice back home to be a fairly decent shot, but the gunslinger was faster. He sidestepped for you to barely graze the edge of his tattered duster, threadbare from overwear, having nearly exhausted its utility.

A smirk played out across the Ghoul’s plush mouth, stretching his withered skin. He shook his head, not thinking you’d have the guts to go and do that, though he was impressed you still had any fight left in you. “Self-preservation must not be in your wheelhouse.”

Shit. Why hadn’t you kept any of those energy weapons on hand? You had buried them, the same as the money, far out in the desert below the cracked foundation of a crumbling homestead. You meant to distribute them, along with the caps, to disparate settlements. To buy water in abundance from roaming caravans, hoping to find yourself in some other trade—one that wasn’t soul sucking and abhorrent.

You wanted the people to be able to protect themselves from your fool of a mother and her parasitic spawn, those among your siblings who had no independent thought. She spread them out across the Mojave, made them into managers and enforcers for the various branches of her mercantile empire, directing them to do her bidding.

Unsanctioned deals were rare; no one had the gall to go behind your mother’s back. No one but you, it seemed, but she sure as hell wouldn’t let you off the hook just for being family.

“Guess that means you’ve gone and picked the latter, eh, sweetheart?

The Ghoul’s footsteps advanced as he closed in on your position. The bits of scrap and trash you were hiding behind did little in the way of shielding you, leaving you open and vulnerable to whatever it was the hunter had in store.

You were out of options; you fired your last two shots.

The first one missed, but the second nicked the bastard’s hat, the Ghoul stopping in his tracks long enough to pick the Cattleman up off his head. He observed where you had marred its brim, scowling before replacing it back where it belonged, thinking this had just become a little bit more personal.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he said, his voice dangerous and rasping, causing your spit to all but evaporate, assisted by the dry heat of this godforsaken tundra.

The time had come for you to bolt, though your odds of escape were poor. You had little faith in your ability to outrun this man, but all you could do was try.

Clutching your wounded arm, you crawled out from behind your makeshift barrier. No sooner had you turned to flee than he made use of his toys, easily snatching you around your waist by way of a braided rope.

You’d been lassoed like an untamed mare, the Ghoul determined to break your spirit, if not your legs, dragging you backward across the sand one inch at a time. You squirmed like caught prey, tugging at the length of rope that bound you. It was to no avail, as the knot was tight, this not being among the Ghoul’s first rodeos.

“Let me go!” you screeched, digging in the heels of your boots to slow his backward pull. There was no way you were going quietly without a fight, not if this might be the last thing you ever had the chance to do of your own volition.

The Ghoul chuckled wryly, finding this whole bit to be amusing. “If I had a cap for every time I heard that, bettin’ I’d be rich.”

You were angrier than a rabid Yao guai, finding unfairness in your situation, wondering why it was that bad things always seemed to happen to good people, or those who tried to be anything but cruel.

If there was one thing you had learned in this life, it was that money talked. It was a shame that it was all you had to bargain with, or so you thought, but only if the Ghoul bought into your offer and there was no telling where his morals lay.

For all you knew, he could be doing this for fun—caps might be a bonus. And it was hard to say if he'd be willing to cross your clan, even if you could match what your mother was paying him.

“Please,” you started, trying to invoke his decency, calling out to any that might be left beneath that ghoulish exterior, though your captor was known by and large to be rather rough and tumble; you would not allow yourself to get your hopes up. “We can strike a deal—I’ll match your price. Hell, I’ll do better—just tell me how much!” you grated between clenched teeth.

“Now ya wanna talk. Little late for that.”

You had been unsuccessful at your attempt to escape, the man in the hat jerking you up by the back of your shirt before he spun you around, forcing you to face him.

You were shocked at his countenance up close. Never before had you been this near to a ghoul, always making it a top priority to stay far from their kind. Maybe it was out of fear of them going feral, or the fact you did not wish to witness what you might so easily become under the right circumstance, afraid to look this precursor to death in its eyes.

And yet, this man teetering on the verge of decomposition, somewhere between a warm body and a rotting corpse, wasn't so far gone that you couldn’t make out his humanity, however twisted, lingering somewhere inside those expressive viewports to his soul.

“It’s never too late,” you replied, unable to curtail that part of you that was rebellious, “only if you say it is.”

“And I do have the upper hand,” the merc reminded you, wrapping the loose end of the rope left hanging succinctly around your wrists. He resorted to bundling the surfeit in a double knot; there was no way you were breaking out.

You bared your teeth like a wild hound as you struggled helplessly. The bounty hunter admired the tenacity by which you had held your own, the fact that you were quarrelsome, not so ready to give in. He patted your cheek like he would man's best friend; if you were going to behave like an animal, he was going to treat you like one.

“It’s a long way back to Reddin’. You may as well quit while you’re ahead—otherwise, this whole situation is liable to be unpleasant, more than it already is.”

“Five hundred caps,” you blurted out, staring at him squarely, suppressing all your innate instincts, the only things left to you that seemed like a logical response. Instead, you would assay to reason with him—he wasn’t feral … yet.

The Ghoul searched your face. He must have found something there he favored. You produced in him a small inclination of his neck, as if he might be debating your proposition.

Then, he smiled. “Your maw’s paying me a thousand,” he said in that aloof, forbearing drawl.

“Fine, two thousand,” you returned, standing up straight, though the man towered. You found your heart was pounding, but not for the reasons you had first assumed.

He eyed you then, glancing down toward your chest, studying the way it rose and fell with every trembling breath. His gaze would travel back up, the Ghoul noticing the fast, rhythmic beat of your pulse point standing out from the smooth column of your throat. Your blood pressure was elevated. You reminded him of a mouse caught in a snare.

“And just where’re keepin’ ‘em?” he asked, one hand encased in a thick leather glove patting you down, starting at your hip and working its way below your belt line, groping at the meat of your thigh. “Don’t assume you have two thousand caps just hidin’ in your underoos. Figure I would have noticed.”

Your breath caught; you could not think straight. He continued until he had reached your ankles. You were tempted to knee him in the face, but you knew you wouldn’t get far—not like this. You withheld, knowing that to make a deal might be your only chance.

“Is that the best excuse you have for touching me?” you shot back, defiant.

By this time, the Ghoul had stood back up to his tall stature. He reached for your waist, planning to grope there, too. You cursed yourself for wanting it, staring back once more into his deceptive, deep brown eyes, flecked with hints of blue.

“Can never be too careful. One, you may be packin’ somethin’ else, though I’d be sure you’d try to use it by this point. Two, don’t think bein’ a gentleman is part of my reputation around these parts, and I ain’t above doin’ what needs to be done to ensure I survive—not that you’re much of a threat.”

That riled you up. Maybe that was the point. You bucked against him, once more endeavoring to loosen your restraints. “Fuck you.”

His cocky grin returned, the Ghoul snatching you up by the point of your chin. “Now, you already said that once already. I ain’t too sure that thought didn’t cross your mind. Bein’ alive this long, somethin’ I’ve learned is how to assess my surroundings—and that includes a person’s body language.”

You shot daggers from your eyes, but a thought occurred to you. As far as ensuring your own survival, you weren’t above doing what needed to be done, either. “Would you let me go if…”

“Look at that, already makin’ suggestions, not botherin’ to refute my claim, but willin’ to bang a ghoul. Suppose there ain’t much a person wouldn’t do these days to get ahead.”

“As if you haven’t done worse things,” you snapped.

“Never said I hadn’t,” the Ghoul squeezed either side of your face before letting go to come around behind you. You stiffened, unsure of his next set of moves.

“But that ain’t one of ‘em. Killin’ ya? Now, that’s fair game, but takin’ advantage of a woman is somethin’ altogether different, and that ain’t a game I like to play,” he purred into your ear.

“The offer’s on the table,” you seethed, giving him your own nasty smirk from over the peak of your shoulder, “got some Rad-X in my jacket—better make it count.”

The Ghoul turned his head to spit in the sand, as if your words had left a bad taste in his mouth. He traipsed back around toward your front, giving you a look that equated offense, combined with a full-on sneer.

“You couldn’t handle me, little rabbit. I’d break you like a twig.” He couldn’t help himself, taunting you further, “’course maybe that’s what you want; somebody oughta bring you down a peg or two, and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be your momma.”

“I bet you couldn’t even make me cum, you fucking prick,” you snarked back, your words accompanied by the jarring sound of your laughter. It echoed across the dunes, continuing long after you had stopped. It set the Ghoul’s blood to boiling, as his fuse was short. Disrespect wasn’t something he often tolerated, even when the subject matter was figurative at best.

Time to give you a healthy dose of stark reality.

The Ghoul whipped you around, not being courteous to the likes of your wounded arm. You screamed in protest, but he simply pressed the flat of his boot against the round of your ass, pushing you forward toward town, or what was left of it.

“What are you doing?” You stumbled over your own two feet, even as the bastard jabbed his gun against the small of your back.

“Acceptin’ your challenge, rabbit.”

“Are you serious right now?”

He was silent as he marched you onward, forcing you to enter the skeletal remains of some poor soul’s squalid dream house. Once inside, he took hold of your bindings, twirling you back around to face him as he pinned you firmly against what was left of the kitchen table.

“What I wants the money,” he leered, “but why don’t you go ‘head,” the Ghoul dared, “tell me what it is you want.”

Your eyes widened as his gloved hand stretched out to palm the shape of your breast. “Freedom,” you interjected, even as your breath hitched in your throat; even as you made a little sound, a chirrup like that of a bird.

“You sure?”

The Ghoul’s hand traveled, releasing your tit to cup the flesh of your thigh. He gave it a pinch before it snuck downward, slipping up under your hamstring, coercing your groins to align with a crude jerk of his arm.

You gasped, so sudden was your closeness, staring down into the vacant pit of his nasal cavity before your eyes shot up, matching the intensity of his stare.

“Do we have a deal?”

“You gonna show me where you hid those caps?”

“You gonna fuck me, cowpoke?”

You felt something—movement inside the pocket of your jacket. The Ghoul located the Rad-X you had so brazenly rubbed in his face, then stuck two fingers straight into your mouth, forcing it wide open.

“You’re gonna need these,” he said, shoving the pills down your gullet, coaxing you to swallow by curling a knuckle against the base of your throat.

You nearly choked, gagging without water as the Ghoul grinned like a Cheshire cat, tourmaline eyes monitoring your reaction, enjoying this little moment right before he unhooked his holster, tossing his revolver down onto the ground.

“Asshole,” you hissed, coughing for good measure, trying to dislodge what felt like a rock trapped in the center of your esophagus.

“The name’s Coop,” the Ghoul jeered, “for when you need somethin’ to moan—won’t be long, kit.”

You assumed “Coop” was short for Cooper. You laughed, mocking the merc before you—he’d walked right into this one, and you weren’t about to let the chance slip by. “Won’t be long? Just like every other man,” you japed.

The Ghoul growled; it quieted you down substantially, finding yourself twisting under his hold as he raked into your hair. He bit into the glove of his opposite hand with blunt, stained teeth, spitting it out to join his holster on the ground.

“Now I think I understand,” he remarked, his temperament having changed, his disposition one of muted animosity as he strained to keep his cool, “all ya are’s a brat, and I know how to deal with brats.”

You felt a pinch at your waist, a tug. The Ghoul pulled at your zipper, shoving one hand down your newly unbuttoned pants. At the same time, he lifted your ass up onto the table with the strength of his bicep; you wriggled atop its surface, trying to scootch back out of range. He’d drag you back by clawing into your jeans, compelling you to remain eye to eye.  

“Where you going, darlin’? Fun’s just gettin’ started.”

It was as if time stood still, the Ghoul’s desiccated fingers finding the protuberance of glands nestled between the folds of your labia. You meant to fight back—to kick, to punch if you could, though your arms were bound—but all you managed was to melt into his touch.

“Shit,” you whispered, as you so readily succumbed, not wanting to admit to yourself you found him anything but ugly. Instead, you angled your hips as he dipped one digit inside you, his rough thumb already swirling circles as he watched you quiver, the Ghoul’s mouth halfway parted in silent ridicule.

Then, he had to go and ruin it by talking.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

You gasped as he curled his finger inside you, slipping in one extra after the fact, pressing the two together against the anterior wall of your sex. He knew exactly where to aim, sending sparks out from your belly toward your already slick loins. You moaned despite yourself, leaning forward to better meet his reach.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had an itch to scratch long before my time—maybe that’s why you’re so foolhardy.”

“Just shut up,” you fumed, rocking in time to the pace of his rhythm; the Ghoul slid right out of you with a wet schlurp, raising his hand to spread apart the sticky sheen that clung between his fore and middle finger, licking it clean with a swipe of his tongue.

You were agog with morbid fascination, yet pissed as fuck he had stopped when you felt something building up deep inside you, wanting to cum though you would have to deal with the repercussions—the fact he would never let you live it down.

“Now, that ain’t no way to talk kindly to your elders,” the Ghoul said with a mischievous lilt. “Manners’ll get you a lot further than you might think, ‘course I don’t expect much from your generation. You all ain’t right in the head.”

You snapped your teeth, nipping thin air, purposely aiming for the spot his nose would have been, had it not long ago completely rotted off. Coop snagged you by the jaw, giving your face a good and irritating shake.

“Remember, you asked for this, little rabbit.”

You heard the rustling of fabric, a shuck. The Ghoul used both hands to clasp you around the hips, having finally taken the time to discard his other glove.

“Come on, then,” you dared, ignoring the pain in your arm. The flow of blood had waned to a trickle; you would live. In reality, you wanted to touch him, grope him, feel him, but you doubted the Ghoul would bother to untie you to entertain your fantasies.

Coop had his cock at the ready; it was hard and girthy but not malformed. Yet his foreskin was as mutated by the radiation as much as the rest of him, though it did not frighten you. “You’re on my schedule, so you best just hold your horses. The more fuss you make about it, the less inclined I am to indulge you, hear that?”

Then, he smiled an infuriating smile, “and now we both know just how bad off ya are.”

Whether or not you were impatient was beside the point; the man was maddening. You cinched your legs around his waist and pulled him close, the Ghoul making a show out of holding onto his hat.

“Giddyup,” you demanded, sneering.

That did it; something clicked in the Ghoul’s brain to where he lifted you up off the table by your collar. He didn’t say a word as he roughly spun you around, pressing his palm into the curve of your lower back, pressuring you to bend over.

A solid, hard slap to your ass caused you to yelp, followed by the bastard yanking down the seat of your pants. You struggled for air as you felt the Ghoul’s cock spread you wide open, burying itself up to its hilt inside the soft, squishy confines of your cunt.

“Cooper,” you breathed, inhaling and exhaling more rapidly. You dug your nails into your palms as your cheek was slammed straight down onto the table, the Ghoul holding you resolutely by the head. He steadily pumped into you, rolling his hips hard with every thrust.

“Don’t think I heard you,” Coop needled, picking up the pace, gaining momentum so as to increase friction, determined to fuck the fire right out of you if he accomplished nothing else. Hell, he hadn’t even warned you. He’d figured there’s no need. You had been rarin’ and ready from the get-go; you just needed a little in the way of “foreplay” to loosen you up.

However, you could not deny the stretch; the feeling of fullness; the tingle that traveled from the cusp of your navel all the way down to the throb between your legs, the Ghoul’s long, deep strokes knocking against your erogenous zone with such precision you doubted you would last for long.

“Stop-don’t—don’t stop,” you whispered, unable to elevate the sound of your voice, every drive of his cock into you stealing more of your breath away. He was kind enough to let up off your face after he was sure he had you secured, nowhere for you to go between his dick and the table.

The Ghoul snickered as he dredged you backward, over and over, using the flesh around your middle as handlebars, balls flouncing against the underside of your mound. Then, he reached one arm around, gripping you by the chin; he toyed with you, running his bare thumb across your bottom lip, skimming your teeth.

“Didn’t figure I would.”

You gave a little huff, twisting your wrists against your bindings; the Ghoul glanced down and chuckled, “just gonna have to make-do.”

You pushed backward in response, your ass cheeks flush against his thighs. You brought a gasp to your own lips, feeling a tiny flare of pain as his cock nearly brushed against your cervix.

“Not fair,” you complained,” can’t touch you, kiss you,” you said, suddenly coming to terms with the fact that you wanted to. Your fingers waggled arbitrarily behind you as you floundered in reaching for him, though the Ghoul slowly slipped his arm down, trailing your breasts, stopping to cop a feel.

“No,” he agreed, “but I sure as hell can.”

You rattled out another disjointed moan, Coop’s fingers tweaking your nipple before his hand vanished back between your legs. It slid past your waist and belly, skirting your thighs, before he grazed your clit, rubbing a pattern as he let up a little, deciding to make you ride it out nice and slow.

“Just like that,” you crooned for him, arching your back, lifting your lumbar region higher the best you could at this angle, nearly slipping when Cooper kicked your feet farther apart with his boot. His free arm scooped you up around your waist in a viselike hold, stringent and rough.

He switched his thumb for his trigger finger, aided by his middle, rotating them together in unison against sensitive nerve-endings, causing you to expel a filthy, debasing sound.

The Ghoul chuckled like a deviant into your hair, his lips pressed firmly to your scalp.

“Coo-Coop—” You bit down on your tongue, the Ghoul’s grip tightening around you, pulling you backward in a poor imitation of a hug. His own teeth bore down on his lower lip, his balls continuing to slap your undercarriage as he was close to blowing his load.

The head of Coop’s prick kept diligently massaging your G-spot, the pressure inside you tantamount to a wellspring of indescribable pleasure, never in your life thinking you’d lock hips with a Ghoul.

“’Bout to make good on that bet, ain’t I?” your captor purred into your ear, whirling those fingers, all the while jouncing into and off of your haunches. Your cunt was slick and saturated in your own wetness; you were so close you could practically taste it.

“Coop! Cooper!” you yelled, the Ghoul keeping his same tempo, only increasing his speed when you called out his name good and proper.

“There’s a good girl, wha’d I tell yo—”

“—No, Coop! Ferals!” you screeched.

Out from a backroom, drawn in by the smell of sex; the clamoring of voices—two shuffling, putrid rovers wearing rags had puttered onto the scene—you getting fucked by one of their ilk as they failed to react for a hairbreadth of a second, your Ghoul ripping his hand up and off you to stretch his arm out across his back.

Strapped to his shoulder was the sawed-off vintage shotgun he always carried—backup, as it were. The Ghoul broke it free of its straps, even as he kept driving it home.

You couldn’t believe it, watching in horror as you were being pushed toward the edge of an orgasm, the sounds that ferals made, with their fried vocal cords, something that would haunt you in your dreams until you made it to your deathbed. They were only a few feet away, coming in from outside, a hole in the wall plenty of room for a body, human or otherwise, to squeeze right through.

“You weren’t invited to this party.” The Ghoul took aim and fired just as you started to cum, the echoes of your lust filling the room as blood, brain, and viscera splattered radially, adding a bit of color to otherwise drab walls.

“Fuck, shit, shit!” you intoned, unable to hold off, even as the second ghoul rasped its anger, its quick, herky movements sending itself in your direction.

With Coop balls deep in your cunt and your hands tied, you were at the mercy of whatever happened next. Luckily, your mother’s hired gun was as good as she’d hoped, sending the other roamer sprawling as your gummy walls tightened, coaxing him to bust his nut.

The Ghoul released his load at the same time he fired off the last of his slugs, unable to control himself, the flex of your cunt so snug, it syphoned out every last drop. He had let go of his concentration once his job was done, spraying down your insides with his infertile sperm.

You both took a breather, Coop lying against your back as you went limp against the table, afraid to let your guard down for if any other ferals decided to show up. He had already tossed the gun, needing a moment to recuperate, assuming you were both in the clear.

You stood there, feeling something warm oozing out of you, then Coop slid lazily down onto his knees, pushing your legs apart wider. You sucked in a breath at the feel of his tongue, the Ghoul endeavoring to eat you out from behind.

You couldn’t keep from trembling, your knees nearly buckling, the Ghoul swallowing his own spunk as he licked a line all the way from your entrance to between your folds, teasing your clit, showing you no quarter.

You made your lewdest sound yet as he sucked your little bud between his lips, the feeling too intense so soon, but that wouldn’t stop him from having his way with you.

Both his hands found your ass cheeks, spreading them for ease of access, the Ghoul’s tongue disappearing somewhere inside your pretty puss. Your whole body stiffened before it relaxed, doing everything in your power not to just fall down flat on top of his face.

It seemed he had already entertained that same idea, for better or worse, the ghoul snatching you around your waist, this time with both arms. He laid back as you came crashing down, having physically coerced you to sit right on his mean, smug mug.

The Ghoul chortled darkly as you struggled to push up and off him, your buttocks smashed up against his forehead while he dined. That snaking, warm organ slipped in and out of you until it found your clit again, paying special attention to that part of you in particular, lapping at it like he would a pre-war ice cream cone.

“Cooper!” you breathed. The man tensed until he realized, this time, his name was an exclamation of you being wholly satisfied. He did not stop, not until you were a convulsing, heaping mess, the only thing you were disappointed with, the fact he didn’t have a nose to hump.

Your wriggling seemed to have tickled some part of his gray matter, not wanting to let go until he had nearly licked you dry was it not for his own saliva. You were panting; exhausted; nothing but a pile of useless flesh and bones by the time he shoved you off, persuading you to roll over onto your back.

You suddenly found yourself to be staring up at a dark sky—the house you occupied barely had a roof left to it.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, intaking large lungful’s of oxygen, trying to regain your equilibrium while you stayed put on the cold, hard ground.

The Ghoul laughed then, straight from his belly, wiping his mouth off on his coat sleeve before both his arms stretched out to either side of his prone form.

“A good time.”

After a few minutes, Coop seemed to come back to himself, fiddling with his junk to stuff himself back inside his trousers. He turned his head to look at you, the joviality having left his voice; he took on a more serious demeanor and tone when he spoke next.

“Now, where were we?”

---

Coop had been decent enough to help you up. He’d even shimmied your pants back around your hips and waist, staring at you like an overconfident ass as he’d fastened the button, but you refused to say a word.

He knew you’d enjoyed yourself, there was no denying it—but now came the hard part. What you didn’t realize, was the deal had been more or less muddled from the start.

“So, I tell you where the caps are and I’m free to go, right?”

The Ghoul was quiet as he surveyed the million granules of sand that lay in all directions, the desert night lit up by thousands of glittering stars. It was pretty like this, he thought. Not a cloud in the sky.

“Stars sure are pretty, aren’t they?” He paused, as if collecting himself. “You know, people used to use stars to navigate, before road maps and compasses. They identified patterns and movements in what they called our ‘celestial sphere.’ Lost art, I reckon. Found their way to all kinds of places; one in particular always stays true north—Polaris’ the name.”

Then, he turned to look at you, his eyes gleaming from underneath the wide brim of his hat.

“And just where are those caps?” he asked, not bothering to answer your question, but instead presenting one of his own, waiting patiently to see just how well-behaved you might wind up now that you’d been laid.

“Not too far from here, buried,” you said, “just outside New Reno about a mile or two, at a homestead with a barn out back.”

“Now, that sounds out of the way to me. Reno’s to the east. We need to be going north—can follow that star I told ya about—and we got a long way to go, thanks to you.”

“Wait, what?” you argued, jerking once more against the rope that bound you, against Coop’s hand that had a hold of your restraints, the Ghoul giving you a cold, crooked smile. He had forced you out here after you’d been made decent, quoting he knew a safe place to hunker down, just up the road, “if you were interested.”

“You’re comin’ with me, sweetheart. Gotta make sure you ain’t tryin’ to play no double-cross—if we’re going for those caps—otherwise, your momma’s out there waitin’ back in Reddin’.”

“But I thought we had a deal!”

“Need collateral—you’re it, rabbit.”

“I swear, they’re there. I’m not a liar!”

“Didn’t peg you for one, but like I said before—can never be too careful.”

You glared at him in disbelief, watching as the Ghoul removed an inhaler from out of his coat pocket. He took a hit of whatever drug, then stepped around to loosen the bit of rope that he had wound about your wrists. Once he had a bit of the excess, he circled back around, wrenching you forward this time, as if you were caught on a leash—a short one at that.

“Hey! I can walk!”

“Best get started, then,” he mused.

“Why?” you demanded, your temper flaring up again, the heat of your blood coloring your cheeks as you flashed your teeth in a snarl. “Why go to all that trouble?! Why lead me on, why fuck me, if you weren’t going to hold up your part of the bargain?”

“Never made a bargain, if you think about it.”

“Then what?” you asked flippantly, staring him down with the most wicked glare that you could muster.

The Ghoul gave you a sidelong glance, arrogant as ever, adjusting his hat so that it fit snug against his skull.

“That’s what they call ‘gettin’ sidetracked’.”

---

Fallout Masterlist

[zoomup07]

𝑰’𝒗𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖

~ 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒓𝒂!𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ~

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: After being sold to the King of Curses to have a chance at being one of his ever-coveted concubines, you decide that you have other plans. You’ve heard about his reign of terror and you want no part of it. You attempt your escape, but unfortunately for you, Sukuna loves the chase.

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: NSFW/18+, cat and mouse dynamic, fear, sukuna is a menace, non-con elements, future angst, future smutt, future fluff, toxic (but he changes), slowww burn, sukuna and reader are both stubborn as hell

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1320

This is just a teaser! I’m still finishing the fic, but let me know if you’d like to be tagged for when I post it!

Your heart is beating out of its chest. A row of women, you included, all kneel in the throne room, waiting for your fates to be sealed. One of you will become an ever-coveted concubine for the King of Curses. The rest? Probably dead. Or eaten. Or chased for sport. Or whatever the cruel king wishes to do.

You almost laugh at the thought. A king? No no no, more like a demon. The terror he’s inflicted upon countless lands is immeasurable; only something a devil could do. No human could be capable of his power, his glory, and his unabashed cruelty, at least, not any human you know of.

Proof of this is shown in the evidence of violence all around you. It seems the demon enjoys using the corpses he collects as “furniture”. “Furniture” is a generous word because the throne before you has no structure, only consisting of a huge pile of bones, many of which are still bloody or charred. Because of the dim lighting, it’s hard to tell if there is anything else making up his throne but you decide that it’s best if you don’t know. How could someone live like this?

If the stories you’ve been told are true, you want nothing to do with this place. You want nothing to do with him. More like an it. He just can’t be human. He can’t be, but you’re not sticking around to find out. You need to find a way out of this. Your parents may have given up on you and sold you to this demon king, but you haven’t given up on yourself just yet. You’d rather die than be sold to him or anyone else.

Looking around, you see the women beside you gazing down at the floor with solemn eyes. You look to your left to find…nobody. You glance to your right, past the women and also see nobody. The fact that nobody even guards this room is telling enough. The king doesn’t expect anyone to defy his orders. He’s fully aware of the paralyzing fear he inflicts and he uses it to his advantage. However, you’re not one to succumb to intimidation. You have nothing to lose.

Slowly, you stand up. The women kneeling immediately whip their heads to you, confused and terrified. They must know what you’re about to do.

“What are you doing?” one of them asks.

“I’m leaving.”

“No! He’ll catch you! He has eyes everywhere!” another one whispers-yells.

“I’m not staying for this. He’s just going to slaughter me anyway!”

You turn, quickly trying to find an exit. Finding one, you run as quietly as you can, which isn’t an easy feat. You’re desperate. Desperate to get out and never return.

You run through endless halls. Endless chasms of blood red walls and no exits until finally, you find what looks to be the entrance. You’re about to run out until you hear a voice.

“What are you doing?” The voice, ice cold and unfeeling, belongs to someone with hair like blood in the snow. You can feel yourself shiver, whether that be from nerves or them.

“I-“ Your words are caught in your throat, but you muster up enough courage to speak. “I’m leaving.”

They look at you with an unreadable expression. “You’re leaving?” they ask, but it sounds more like a statement.

“Yes. Are you going to stop me?” you question with mock confidence. They look at you with an analyzing and calculating look. You pray that they can’t see the way you’re shaking like a leaf.

After a pause that lasts too long, the corners of their mouth slightly twitch up, as if they’re trying to hide their amusement. “I won't stop you.”

Suspicion overwhelms you, but you keep up your act. “Good,” you say. You look back to the entrance and hesitantly step out, then turn your head back to them. They nod their head, signaling that it’s okay. Without a second thought, you bolt.

You run and run and run, the adrenaline making you faster. You laugh like a madman, ecstatic to be free. You’re out and you’ll never go back. What a stupid king! His arrogance saved you. You don’t know what you’d do if he had soldiers wandering about. It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you escaped.

Eventually, you make it to a forest filled with vines and shrubs. Sunlight is nonexistent here except for the small rays that show through the gaps in the leaves. The darkness may shield you, but it also shields potential enemies. You tread slowly and carefully through the countless obstacles, swiping away the branches that scratch your skin.

This place is never-ending, just like that damn shrine. You’re growing exhausted; you just want a place to rest. A place to start a fire for when it gets dark, a place to catch your breath, a place to just be for a minute. However, that feat seems impossible at the moment, which makes you curse in frustration.

Then you hear it. The snap of a twig. A lot of twigs actually. Your heart jumps and you freeze. However, you find nobody around you, so you decide to keep walking.

Another snap of so many twigs makes your anxiety skyrocket. Normally, you would contribute it to some animal but your exhaustion is clouding your judgement, making you paranoid. What do you do? Do you stay here frozen in place? Do you scream? Play dead?

Run! your mind screams. Run!

Your legs move without your permission and you rush forward. You’ve significantly slowed down due to your fatigue but you don’t let that stop you. However, you’re forcefully stopped anyway when you trip and crash onto the forest floor. Pain explodes throughout your body, especially from your knee. A groan escapes your throat as you sit up. Your knee is bloody and raw. You blow on it to dry the blood, but your knee suddenly feels like fire. “Fuck!!!”

You immediately cover your mouth. Any noise could alert your surroundings of your presence.

You hear a low laugh from a distance. “Stupid girl, hiding like a little mouse.”

You stay deadly silent, afraid to even breathe.

A moment passes.

Then, you see him.

He’s tall. Unnaturally tall. His chest is broad and there is not one inch of him that’s not sculpted by muscle. He has…four arms. No…no it can’t be him. You hesitantly bring your gaze to his face. Half of it is distorted by some scar? A burn? The scar holds two large eyes that are pinned on you. The other side of his face looks relatively normal except for the fact that he also has two eyes on that side as well. Tattoos adorn his face and his body, some covered by the kimono tied around his waist since he couldn’t be bothered to put it on fully.

You recognize him, and your face must show it because his face morphs into a toothy grin.

“You know who I am?” His voice rumbles.

You can’t answer because all words die from your throat. You know who he is. He knows that you know.

“I know who you are,” he says as he gets closer. “I know that you thought you could get away. I suppose nobody told you that I like a little chase.”

The realization dawned on you. That snow-haired person must’ve said something. Of course they wouldn’t just let you go. Why would anyone who serves that demon ever defy his trust? Especially when the consequences of that would be dire.

The demon king kneels down, though he is still impossibly tall, and gently grabs your face, squishing your cheeks and making your quivering lips pucker. He brings his face down until his nose is practically an inch away.

“None of that matters now. All that matters is that…” he mutters with a sneer.

“I’ve caught you.”

Ask in the comments to be added to the tag list! Divider by @cafekitsune !

[bellybuttonbooks]

THE SIXTH | Ekko x Fem!OC

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Rest of the fanfic can be found here.

SUMMARY:

Shimmer is back. Two years after the war with Noxus has ended, a new gangster emerges within the undercity, now known as 'Zaun'.

Daunter is a ruthless chem-baron who has reformed the city's drug empire. He refloods the streets with shimmer and gains the title 'Silco's Heir'.

The Firelights are back in commission after two years of lax, taking down exports just like the days when Silco was still alive.

When the group arrives at an export and finds it already taken down with the barrels drained of shimmer, it becomes apparent that Daunter and his gang aren't the only ones they need to look out for. They had competition. Or... did they?

Ekko finds himself involved in a seemingly endless cat-and-mouse chase with another gang leader-a woman who moves like the wind. He wants to know what her motives are, but he has to catch her first.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

CHAPTER ONE:

- Zaun, two years after the conclusion of Arcane

"Fuck—"

It happened again. Their mission had been sabotaged, just like before. Someone had arrived before he and the Firelights had gotten there, Daunter's goons paralyzed and tied up, the barrels drained of shimmer.

Daunter was Zaun's newest chem baron—and currently it's biggest. He reintroduced shimmer to the Lanes, reflooding the streets with the purple drug.

After Silco had died and the undercity got caught up in a battle with Piltover and Noxus, shimmer had been mostly exterminated by Caitlyn and her enforcers. It still lingered in the black market, but mass exports ceased to exist. Until a few months ago, that is. Daunter crept in like slow-forming shadows caused by a rising moon. In increments so small that no one noticed until everything was drenched in its darkness.

This forced the Firelights back into action. But now, there seemed to be someone else who was intent on interrupting Daunter's operations. Ekko would have accepted the help if it wasn't for the fact that they'd taken the shimmer. He couldn't help but suspect that the culprit had ill intentions, and that put them at odds with the Firelights.

"Looks like we got competition," a distorted voice said from beside him.

Ekko turned his head to look at the masked face of Scar, a tall chirean who served as his Lieutenant and second in command. Chireans held bat-like appearances (minus the wings), with large ears, grey-toned skin, bat-like noses, and neon green eyes.

Both men stood atop a nearby roof, out of hearing distance of the restrained goons on the cargo airship.

"More like another enemy," Ekko responded.

Scar processed his leader's remark before speaking again. "You think they got bad intentions?"

"They're up to no good if they're stealing shimmer. Probably selling it themselves to make bank," he said pointedly.

Scar took in Ekko's words. It made sense and sounded like the most likely scenario. Though, one thing stood out to him.

"Why would they tie em' up? They already have em' paralyzed somehow. It's like they're leaving 'em here for someone to arrest or something."

Ekko considered this but had already thought up a reason. "The paralysis might not last long. Could be a precaution."

Scar nodded, agreeing that his reasoning seemed plausible.

"What should we do? Seems we keep missing 'em. Should we put out scouters across the city?"

Ekko exhaled through his nose, mulling over Scar's suggestion. It did sound like a good idea, but he had to also consider the risks. He didn't want to put his people in danger. This wouldn't be like their typical 'element of surprise' mission. This would involve spying, waiting, and watching—usually from the shadows to avoid detection. Despite this, Ekko had faith in the Firelights.

"Yeah. Could assign shifts. But we still need to keep most of our numbers back at the hideout in case of any surprise missions."

Scar agreed. Daunter was becoming more and more unpredictable, and there were times when they had to act quickly, creating plans with only hours to spare.

The conversation between the men ended there and Ekko mounted his aeroglider. He flew over to the transport ship and hopped off the board, sliding it behind his back to attach to the magnetic piece on his coat. He neared Daz, one of the newer Firelights.

Daz was a little on the shorter side, his body mass nothing impressive. But he was quick, and that made up for his size.

"You find anything useful? Anything they might've left behind?"

Daz stood from his crouching position. "Nothing. But this guy says that it was a bunch of people dressed in black wearing cloaks," he said.

The younger male nudged the oversized goon who was laying on the boarded floors of the airship with his booted foot.

Ekko's eyes narrowed in thought from the goon's revelation. He crouched down, deciding to take questioning the brute into his own hands.

"Did you see any faces? Anything?"

Daunter's ruffian shook his head, his double chin jigging as he did so.

"I was lucky to even see 'em in the first place. Bastards were quick as shit, bouncin' all over the place like a bunch 'a damn shimmer addicts."

Ekko stared down at the overweight man for a few moments before standing.

'Was it possible that whoever had done this was also consuming the drug to give themselves a physical advantage?'

Authoritative voices sounded from the distance, pulling him from his thoughts and signaling him and the other firelights that enforcers were nearby. Ekko yanked his aeroglider from behind his back once again, hopping onto it before instructing the other Firelights to follow him out of there.

The group flew to their hideout, flickers of green trails decorating the air behind them as they moved.

The Firelight hideout was impressive—only accessible through a labyrinth of abandoned sewer pipes. He and his people had the pipes memorized by now, knowing exactly where to go to reach the entrance. The entrance was covered by a heavy, circular piece of metal—resembling that of a manhole cover. It rolled to the side, allowing them access.

Each time Ekko walked through the gate, he was struck with amazement at what he had accomplished so far. He had created a community in the last ten years, having found a large tree growing from the deep, dark depths of Zaun—a miracle, but also a symbol of hope. He had built himself a home, a sanctuary, and shared it with the people of the undercity that had been affected by the shimmer epidemic and the victims of the battle. He was proud of himself, and the people who had joined him in forming the Firelights. They had done well.

During the war, they'd almost lost the tree. Well, they had lost the tree. The corruption from the hexcore had bled into the roots of their tree, causing the leaves to become tainted in wild rune markings before ultimately falling off. But using the knowledge he had learned in the other timeline he'd been teleported to, Ekko was able to form a time bubble around the hideout, reversing time in sphere they'd created but no where else. After ensuring no one was in the bubble, Ekko was able to bring the tree back to its former condition—before his mural had been painted on it.

Before the war, he'd vanished for months, leaving the Firelight no choice but to assume his death. They painted his face on the mural. It was a chilling thing to see once he'd returned; a symbol of his own death that hadn't occurred. A bad omen.

He had lost people throughout his twenty-three years of life—too many people. He carried the memories of his fallen friends with him and honored their memory by having a mural painted on the tall walls of the sewer, colourful portraits of the people who had passed on. It added to the surrealness of their hideout, while also ensuring who they've lost remained with them in, watching over them as they worked, lived, and thrived underneath their still gaze.

His eyes skimmed over the mural; Vi, Powder, Claggor, Mylo, Momo, Chip, Kurt, Jal, Eve, Radar, Heimerdinger, Jinx, and the most recent addition—Ajuna.

He lowered his gaze and walked to his room. It was located in one of the higher structures of the tree. Usually, he would use his hoverboard to fly there, but he decided to take the long way so that he could think on the way there. Plus, the exercise wouldn't hurt. He began his venture up the lengthy stairs, his mind occupied as he did so.

He soon reached his destination, pushing open the door before closing it behind him again after stepping inside.

His room was clean, but also messy. His bed was made, which was something he forced himself to do every morning. It was a twin bed that lined the back right corner of the room. Opposite the bed was his workbench, where the mess began. It was a disorganized madness, but it was his madness, and it worked for him. He was an inventor, a prodigy and a genius, as his parents called him. The workbench was evidence of his success and failures. His tools scattered across the wooden surface, grooves beginning to form in the shape of his fingers from how often he used them. Pieces of scrap lined the walls next to the desk, things he refused to throw out because he was determined to find a use for them some day.

The wall behind his desk was littered with plans, blueprints, diagrams—either of inventions he had already made, planned to make, or things he still hadn't finished planning yet. Next to the bed was his desk. It was situated underneath a curtained window. That was where some of the mission planning took place. He was the leader, and he was the one who created intricate plans for his team to embark on (with some help from Scar at times).

Ekko yanked his aeroglider from his back and rested it against the leg of his workbench before shedding his graffitied coat and folding it over his work chair. He removed his mask and placed it on his desk before sitting in his chair.

His mind was tossing and turning, thinking back to their wrecked mission. It was clear that the Firelights had another enemy to deal with now, as if Daunter and his gang weren't enough. He worried about what this might mean for their future undertakings, what confronting the group would be like, what their leader was like—if they even had one. They most likely did. They wouldn't have been able to pull off such swift heists if they didn't.

Ekko exhaled and willed his troubled thoughts to leave with his breath. He needed to focus. Make a schedule. Make a plan. He pulled out some parchment and leaned over his desk, getting to work.

Weeks passed, and the Firelights had no luck with spotting the culprits. Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. That and any physical altercations made using shimmer made them dangerously fast foes.

Ekko stood atop a roof, his mask adorning his face and the hood pulled over his head. He held his hoverboard to his side, having just landed. The building he was situated on was positioned along one of the main routes for Daunter's shimmer exports.

At this hour, the city was dark but also illuminated by the lights within its buildings. It was pretty, no one could deny that. Pink and green light outlined its contents, adding to its nighttime radiance. It was a contrast to the dank stench that polluted their air.

He lingered on the roof for a while, hoping to spot some movement.

His scouting shift was ending. His body was tense with anticipation and eagerness that didn't seem to dissipate as the time ticked well beyond when he should have gone home. This mystery had been bothering him since the first time they came across an empty transport about a month ago. He couldn't understand how he and the Firelights kept missing them. How this mysterious group of people in black seemed to be getting away with it. Right now, all he knew was that he would not rest until he figured it out, and then took care of it by taking them down.

A flicker of movement occurred from the top right of his peripheral. In a flash his head wagged in the direction, his focus zooming in on it. There. He could see a very faint outline of what looked like the side of someone, the rest of them drenched in inky shadows. They stood upon a roof in the near distance. When Ekko moved onto the other side of the roof he was standing on, he noticed that there were other figures standing with the initial one he had noticed. It had to be them.

He knew that he'd have to stay hidden and quiet. He was outnumbered by people who had unknown capabilities. Instead of confronting them, he would follow them. Watch them and their moves, learn their techniques, inspect them for any weaknesses, and figure out who was leading them.

He put his aeroglider on his back, knowing that the green lights on it would immediately reveal his location—especially in the darkness of the night. He would have to move on foot. He wasn't exactly skilled in moving stealthily. His boots always felt too heavy, his breathing too loud—especially behind his mask. Despite this, he was determined to pursue the group. He'd been chasing nothing but possibilities for weeks. The possibility that he might spot them. The possibility of learning more about them. The possibility of the Firelights having the capability to take them down. He was sick of unanswered questions, and if slinking into the shadows like some kind of damn ninja was what he had to do to get them, then so be it.

When they moved, he moved, trying to mask any footsteps or sounds he made with theirs. So far, it seemed they were moving aimlessly. They headed in every which direction, making quick yet precise movements. Ekko was almost in awe. This group moved with grace and excellence. They used acrobatics and parkour together, the combination of the two giving the group a unique advantage in means of travel and stealth.

Ekko was able to see that the group consisted of about 6 people, with one of them leading the lot. He could see that they were indeed adorned in black attire, which included black cloaks. Any other physical details remained a blur due to their continuous motion.

The leader seemed to lead the group to some sort of abandoned warehouse. It had long since been cleared out of its storage—Ekko and the Firelights having raided it once after Squirt, one of the older members of the gang, spotted it during a mission.

Ekko kept himself tucked away in a nearby alley, sparing only a few glances as he saw the group circle on the concrete clearing in front of the warehouse. As he glanced over the corner, he noticed there was one fewer than before. Before he could even begin wondering what happened to them, he felt an abrupt poke on the back of his neck, directly in the center. In seconds he was crumbling to the ground, his own body refusing to listen to his brain signals that demanded he move. He lay there helplessly, now at the complete mercy of this group that he knew nothing about. He tested his eyes, seeing if he could glance around and blink. He could. He tried opening his mouth. He could. But that was it.

His eyes caught sight of the person who had managed to take him down in mere seconds without him even knowing they were there. They were small—a small female. She was dressed in all black besides a crimson scarf wrapped around her neck. He couldn't see her face because she was wearing a black half mask that covered her nose and mouth, and tinted goggles that covered her eyes. One of the most prominent things he noticed was how long and bushy her hair was. She had it tied in a low ponytail and the ends of it reached all the way to her ankles.

'There's no way that was the ideal way to keep her hair during outings like these,' Ekko thought. It reminded him of Pow—Jinx. Long hair. Always getting in the way when she fought. He felt his heart clench, but he banished the impending memories that threatened to come forth. He didn't have time to think about that now.

"You've been following us," the woman said, her voice firm and yet soft at the same time.

She began circling him, sizing him up before coming to a stop near his head. She squatted down beside him, her head tilting to the side as she looked over his masked face.

"And you've been stealing shimmer to do who knows what with."

Her head tilted to the other side as she listened to him respond in the distorted voice caused by his mask. "What of it? You want some?" Her voice was muffled by the material of her mask.

He scoffed, disgust filling him and lacing his voice with venom as he spoke. "So, you do make profit off it."

She didn't respond to that. Instead, she gripped the edges of his mask and began to tug it off. When she felt a resistance, she reached into his hood and unsnapped the fastens and then tried again.

Ekko could do nothing to stop her as she revealed his face to the night air.

She gave him a good stare down, as if memorizing every facial feature he had. She reached a hand down to him, her fingers making gentle contact with the hourglass marking on his forehead and nose.

Ekko would have jolted away from her touch if he wasn't paralyzed.

She traced along the edges of the marking with two of her fingers, her movements slow and deliberate. After pulling her hand away, she stared down at him some more, almost like she was contemplating something. "What does it mean?"

Ekko's mouth parted, confusion and bewilderment striking him from her abrupt question. He couldn't even think of forming an answer to that question, too caught off guard by it.

"Nothing? Just thought the shape was cool, huh?" She stood, his mask still pinched between her fingers.

"This thing is neat. Did you make it yourself?" She turned the mask over in her hands and held it up, getting a closer look at the neon pink 'x' painting on the front of it and then looking at the mechanics on the inside that made the wearer's voice distorted.

"What did you do to me? I can't move."

She looked from his mask and down at him again as she ignored her question. She seemed to pause, as if stunned by the sound of his actual voice that was no longer disguised by his mask.

"It's temporary. It'll wear off in an hour or so."

Ekko's eyes widened. "An hour? Stuck like this? With you?"

She snickered. "Hey, you're the one who was following us. I had to make sure you weren't a threat." She bent forward and gazed down at him; her eyes still hidden behind the goggles she wore. "So, are you? A threat, I mean."

Ekko swallowed. "Depends. I don't know you, or what your intentions are. I'm only a threat to those who are a threat to me," he said.

"Well, that's quite the predicament. We don't know your intentions, and you don't know ours." She stood up straight before continuing. "But you were the one following us. That's not very nice, y'know."

Ekko could feel her words ignite annoyance within him like a flame touching gas.

"I had my reasons," he retorted matter-of-factly.

The girl turned around, hiding her face from view before pulling down her mask and removing her goggles from her eyes, leaving them resting on her head like a headband. Then she put on his mask. It was too big for her, but she kept it on, nonetheless.

Ekko became enraged. "Take it off, now." His voice was angered and demanding.

She snickered again, this time teasingly as she turned around to show him her face now covered by his own mask.

"No, I don't think I will." Her voice came out distorted now, and it only added to Ekko's fury.

Before Ekko could make a response, she moved quickly out of his peripheral. And suddenly, she was atop the roof of one of the buildings lining the alleyway. She gave him a taunting wave before dashing away.

Ekko could hear her voice in the distance as she ordered the group to head back.

'So, she's their leader.'

Ekko mulled over that fact for a few seconds until he realized that he was now left in the alleyway, defenseless. She had left him there paralyzed and alone, completely vulnerable to any possible thugs in the area.

"Shit—"

Just as the word left his mouth, she returned to her spot on the roof. He watched her plop down, her short legs dangling over the ledge. He could hear her muffled, distorted snicker.

'Bitch.'

"Don't worry, I'll babysit you until you can move again."

Ekko blinked, confusion dousing him from her odd intentions.

"Why?"

"To make sure no one hurts you silly," she replied, her oddly cheerful voice making the distortion effects of the mask glitch out. He heard her giggle.

He stared up at her in disbelief. "You wouldn't have to do that if you hadn't paralyzed me in the first place."

"And I wouldn't have had to paralyze you if you hadn't been following us in the first place."

She had a point, and he knew it, But he also knew he was justified for following them. He needed to know what their intentions were.

"What are you doing with the shimmer that you've been stealing?" He knew his question was a long shot, but at this point he didn't have anything to lose.

"That's for me to know, and for you... To not know."

This woman was infuriating.

"Then I have no choice but to assume that you're selling it for profit. You're just continuing to add to the problems of the undercity. How do you live with yourself? Contributing to the pain and suffering of other people for the sake of coins."

She seemed to pause at his words, like she was thinking carefully before responding. "You're quick to assume things, huh?"

Ekko watched as she crossed her arms over her chest, her head still tilted downwards as she stared at him through his mask from her perch on the roof ledge.

"What choice do I have when you won't give me anything."

She hummed. "Touche."

Ekko could feel pins and needles erupt in the tips of his fingers and toes. The paralysis was starting to wear off. He decided to keep this information to himself. Maybe he could try and get her to come down here and strike after the paralysis had completely worn off without her knowledge.

"How'd you do this? You poked me and suddenly I'm all paralyzed and helpless."

He heard her make a noise of amusement, hinting that she was probably smirking behind his mask.

"More questions?

He rolled his eyes. "Are you gonna answer this one?"

She shook her head in amusement, and Ekko watched in astonishment as she stood and flipped into the air, landing on the ground right beside his head with absolute grace.

'She just flipped off a god damn building.'

He had to admit, that was impressive as hell. He'd lived in the undercity his whole life, and many kids grew up learning how to do parkour, but nothing like this. Sure, he could do his own mid-air flip, but his landings were far from as graceful and quiet as hers. It was like she was a dancer or something.

She squatted next to his head again, peering down at him like before but this time behind his mask.

"How about we swap secrets, yeah? You tell me what this means—" She paused and then poked the white marking on his forehead and nose. "—And I tell you how I made you 'all paralyzed and helpless'."

Ekko was taken aback. She would really reveal something so valuable in exchange for something that was merely personal to him?

"It means a lot of things. It's shaped like an hourglass. I've always had a thing for time."

She made another amused sound—probably smirking again.

"That's it? You have a thing for time? No deep, mysterious meaning for painting a freaking hourglass on your face?"

"Guess so."

She stood and crossed her arms over her chest.

He was starting to get more feeling in his face now, and he didn't even notice when he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Who are you?" he asked her, not really expecting an answer.

She shook her head disapprovingly again before replying. "Another question? But I haven't even answered the other one yet," she pointed out jeeringly.

He grit his teeth. This teeny tiny woman had started a raging anger within him. She dodged questions, was sassy as shit, and she'd stolen his mask and was now wearing it just to piss him off.

She noticed when his eyebrows furrowed, hinting that he was regaining use of his muscles now. She took a step back but didn't fully retreat just yet, lingering behind for a moment to say something else.

"I thought you would've found another fascination by now. But nope, still obsessed with time, aren't you, Ekko?"

Ekko felt like he'd been abruptly drenched in ice-cold water. She spoke to him as if she knew him.

'Who the fuck is this person?'

His shock was evident on his face, and she immediately picked up on it.

In a blur of movements, he was suddenly standing, the paralysis having worn off by now. Despite his quickness, she had maneuvered out of the way and was now standing on the same ledge she had been sitting on minutes before.

"Who the fuck are you?! Tell me, God dammit!"

She was quiet and unmoving for a few moments, as if she was contemplating something.

"Toodaloo." She waved at him and laughed before disappearing.

He growled and pulled his aeroglider from his back, immediately mounting it and taking to the air. She couldn't have gotten too far. It took him only a few moments to spot her in the distance. She was fast—real fast. But he had his hoverboard, which made him faster. He flew his board in her direction, gaining momentum on her quickly.

He watched as she turned a corner abruptly. He quickly made the sharp turn, about to catch up to her when he was forced to come to a stop. She was gone.

He gained altitude, moving up higher to get a better map of the place. He looked around, but still couldn't find anything. She had quite literally vanished into thin air.

"Fuck!"

Rest of the fanfic can be found here.

[twinroomies]

i really like the bits of your personal style that show in the twin runes style issue! ^^

Thanks! It's, interesting adapting the art style, I should talk about that a bit! So, yeah, this isn't verbatim Twin Runes, I'm not following the model sheets 1 to 1... but I used to ALL the time. For those of you who don't know, I started the journey which is currently at this point with a dub of Twin Runes itself! In that dub, I needed to add a few elements, remove a few things to have them appear at different times, etc, etc. Then, I started getting more creative. Then I started adding new expressions, then I drew my thumbnail for the compilation of the first 50 dubs... and then I just kept drawing them. A lot. I ended up drawing them so much I can draw a lot of Twin Runes characters completely from memory, and most of them partially (characters like Susie , while I love them, I don't draw often enough). Now we're here! And, somewhere along that line, when you draw characters a lot and commit things to memory or when you learn a style... some stuff changes eventually because you're doing it from the hip so to speak. All you people that want to work in animation, take notes: you're rarely going to be drawing in your own style. In fact, I don't HAVE my own style, if you sat me down and said "draw something in your own unique style" I'd probably just come up with something on the spot, and a week later if you asked me the same thing it could be completely different! I have things I like, but I don't have a style, because I'm NOT an illustrator, I'm an animator... BUT that doesn't mean I don't end up with variations:

On the left are sketches of me following more closely how Akane draws the goobers at current, and on the right is me drawing the goobers from the ol' dome noggin. Akane's versions of the Roomies are a lot more refined, in a sense. The features are smaller, the shapes are a lot less cluttered, and they ooze design choice, they remind me of Sanrio or something by "Bob Holt" (that's the Hoops and Yoyo guy for those of you old enough to remember them)! My versions of the doofuses, however, are very scrappy. My Chara uses a lot less angular shapes, taking on the appearance of something closer to Kris from around issue 30 of Twin Runes (where I started drawing for my dub, actually). They have wider bangs, a more squished face, and their jaw is gone. If Akane's Chara is the Cheshire Cat, mine is Garfield. Speaking of cartoon characters, my Asriel is actually closer to how he was drawn in the very first comic to STAR both of those characters, though even in that regard I'd say my Asriel is still even more "cartoon-y". I built his face, in a sense, to be funny. He's got a lot of that "Joseph Holt" (Mickey Mouse Shorts Circa 2013) energy, he's gotta do a lot of the facial expression work for the comic since Chara's not one to really emote that much, now are they? While some of these are VERY DELIBERATE CHANGES, to be honest, some of these are just... how I draw compared to Akane! I grew up doodling Sonic, Spongebob, and OG Dragon Ball, and I feel like it really shows in what I gravitate towards. But, regardless of what I change, the goal always is, and will continue to remain, being true to Twin Runes itself! That was a long ramble, wasn't it? I'm really sorry, I'm still getting used to running one of these, I'm sure most of you had your eyes glaze over by paragraph 2! I hope someone finds it interesting, however, and thank you for your question!

[maldaptivedreamer]

From Afar P. 2

Now that you have his attention, what are you gonna do with it?

content: Errors and mistakes, too lazy to edit, probably not entirely accurate to alien universe, long af, sex, f!reader

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Never written smut.

NSFW MINORS DNI 18+

Masterlist Next Part

After meeting at the quarry a few months ago, you and Kay had become close friends. She showed you various ways to relax and have fun. When you weren’t at work, you could usually be found with her. Despite this, you haven't had any encounters with her cousin. You've in fact made it a game.

Teasing your pretty boy was a lot of fun. From the moment you met at the quarry, his gaze would inevitably find you in any room. You enjoyed making eye contact with him and then coyly avoiding him. It was so easy to get a reaction from him - a simple flash of skin or an exaggerated stretch would draw his attention. As he started to make his way towards you, you would leave, adding an element of chase to your game. Each interaction brought him closer and closer to you, slowly closing the gap.

It has been fun. What started as a playful game, has now morphed into a game of intense tension. His willingness to play the game of cat and mouse is waning. You know that he's losing patience. And if you're being honest with yourself, so are you.

Despite recently showering, the heat causes sweat to form on your back. Strands of hair stick to the nape of your neck. You adjust yourself in your seat as you wait for Kay.

Looking around the quarry, you lock eyes with him. His blue eyes are intense as they focus on you. He gives you a smirk before lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Biting your lip, you squint at the sight of his stomach. You eyes follow the trail of hair that slowly disappears beneath his pants. When he lowers his shirt, you see a lot of humor and satisfaction in his awaiting gaze. He'd never returned your teasing before, you never really gave him the chance to. He was very clearly enjoying your reaction though. Giving you a wink, grinning.

Your view of him is disrupted as Kay joins you, her face slightly guilty and upset. She hands you a beer, but you set it aside in concern. Confused, you ask, "Hey, everything okay?"

She bites her lip and gives you a nod, "Yeah, I just... do you mind if I go with him? I won’t if you want me to stay." You know who she's referring to, even without his name.

You furrow your brows and frown slightly, “Kay, as much as I would love to call him a piece of shit... and an asshole... I won't." You shrug and give her a teasing grin, nudging her, "Maybe don’t make a habit of ditching me...but go." Your voice grows more sincere, "Go ahead, have fun and I’ll be here if you need me."

Kay smiles at you, squeezing your arm before running off, "Thanks! I'll see you later!" You stand and yell after her, with a playfully stern waving finger, "Have fun, but be safe! You hear me?!" She playfully glares at you as she pulls him by the arm, leaving the quarry.

You sigh as you watch them, before twisting on your feet. You lose your balance as you bump into someone. Their large hands grasp your hips, and you grip their shirt to steady yourself. A deep, accented voice reaches your ears, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach.

"Gotcha," he says with a low chuckle. Your breath stutters in your chest, as you raise your eyes to meet his. Seeing his pretty face so close, your eyelids lower and you lick your dry lips, staying silent. He follows the movement of your tongue and tightens his grip on your hips. As the initial surprise wears off, you begin to feel more confident.

Leaning your body against his, you rise onto your toes. Placing one hand on his chin and the other onto his shoulder, you bring his mouth down to yours. Your lips barely brush against each other before you pull back slightly. He gazes heavily at your mouth but meets your eyes when you speak, intensity evident in both of your expressions. With your lips inches apart, you tilt your head and whisper, "And what are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" As you raise an eyebrow in question, you slowly move your body away from him, lowering yourself back onto your heels.

With a smirk, you push yourself away from him and turn around to walk away. You can hear him stammering behind you and glance back over your shoulder, rolling your eyes and raising a hand in invitation. The sight of his wide grin makes laugh as he starts running towards you.

You release his hand and hurry towards the door of your apartment. His roving hands and lips are a pleasant distraction. One hand ventures under your shirt, tracing a path up your stomach, while the other tangles in your hair, pulling your head back as his tongue explores your neck. The sound of wet kisses and breathless moans echo through the dark alleyway. Struggling with the keys, you bow your head in concentration.

After finally unlocking the door, you aggressively push it open and pull him inside. You grab his hand and pull him towards your bed with a sense of urgency. As he sits down on the edge, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes hungrily watch your every move. His voice is deep and rough with desire, “Eager now, aren’t you love? Desperate after all your teasing these past months?” His taunting only fuels your smirk as you slowly undress in front of him.

“Desperate?” You scoff, licking your lips as you stand before him in just your bra and panties. Tilting your head to the side, you bite your lip and let your hands roam over your body, "Baby, desperate is when you chase after me. Desperate is when you touch yourself to the thought of me...You have touched yourself while thinking of me, haven''t you?" Seeing his nod, you hum and continue touching yourself.

He watches intently from the bed as you trail a hand down your chest. One hand glides over your breast, circling a firm finger over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your bra. The other hand moves towards your core, gently rubbing at the growing wetness between your legs. He breathes heavily, unsure of where to focus his eyes as they dance across your body in anticipation.

Your eyes snap open at the sound of his movements and you quickly draw back. He freezes, caught halfway off the bed. You slowly shake your head with a fake pout, “No touching yet pretty boy. You touch me and I stop.” You approach him and gently guide him back onto the bed, before you lean in and give him a quick peck. Your voice is sickeningly sweet, “You just gotta wait your turn pretty boy. Be patient and I'll let you inside of me, baby. Wanna feel you inside of me, don't you?”

He nods and swallows, his eyes filled with desire. You can't resist and decide to indulge a bit. Grasping his face in your hands, you press your lips together. Your tongues intertwine as you both moan in pleasure. With one hand, you stroke him over his jeans, causing him to groan and thrust his hips forward. Running your hands along his chest, you force yourself away from him.

Removing your bra and panties, you move yourself to lay next to him. Using the nail of your middle finger you circle around your nipple, you give it a lightly pinch as your other hand moves downward. His eyes are drawn to your core, glistening in the light. His voice is tense and he clenches his hands in restraint, “Look at you love…So wet and pretty. Is that all for me darling? Hmm?”

As your eyes meet his, you can see the intensity in his unwavering blue gaze, "Bet you feel like heaven. So tight." You run your fingers over your sensitive clit before plunging two fingers inside of yourself. The sound of your whimper is drowned out by his guttural groan as he watches you, his hands trembling with desire, “I want to feel you, darling. Do you want to feel me? Want my fingers to be deep inside you instead? I do.”

Your fingers, scissor in and out of you, mimicking the sensation of him being inside of you. He releases a breath, “I want to feel how tight you are. Want to feel you around my cock, love. Will you let me touch you? Let me help you?” Your whimpering intensifies, and you nod. His reaction is instant.

Ripping your hand out of you, he raises it to his mouth and watches you as he licks your hand clean. Feeling him rub circles into your clit with his thumb, your legs tremble as they wrap around his waist. Pulling him closer, you wrap your arms around his neck. You both watch each other for a moment. Eyes locked and breathing into each other.

Swallowing, you slowly push up his shirt. Nails lightly scratching his skin as his breath stutters. Shoving his shirt over his head, you pull him to your lips as he returns his hand to your entrance. Running a hand through his hair, you drag his headband off. Your legs shake and you gasp as he inserts two fingers. You moan as his longer, thicker fingers reach farther than yours had.

He curls his fingers inside you. You arch your back, pressing your chest against his as waves of pleasure course through your body. You tug at his hair, urging him closer as his thumb continues its relentless circles on your clit. The pressure builds within you, coiling tighter with each thrust of his fingers. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his hand as you chase your release.

Your hands roam over his newly exposed skin, tracing the hard planes of his chest and stomach. You can feel his muscles tensing under your touch. Dragging your nails down his back, you revel in his sharp intake of breath.

His lips move to your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse. The scrape of his teeth makes you shudder. You tilt your head, giving him better access as pleasure builds inside you. His fingers speed up their rhythm and you're so close, teetering on the edge.

Your eyes roll and you moan, “I’m close, so close.” Your voice is a breathy whine, “Please…please, I need it pretty boy.”

You feel him slightly tense before he continues pumping his fingers. "Look at me," he growls against your skin.

You force your eyes open, meeting his. His breath is hot against your face as he whispers, “Bjorn…I want you to say my name, love. Say it and I’ll give you what you want…Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”

You release a heavy gasp, as he gives your clit a harsh flick. Eyes heavy and voice low, you beg, “Bjorn. Please, Bjorn…Need you. Need you so bad. Have since I first saw you.”

With a particularly skillful twist of his fingers, you tumble over that edge. Your body tenses as the orgasm washes over you. You fight the urge to close your eyes and they water with effort. Pretty tears stream down you face, as Bjorn fingers you through your release. You feel his lips on your face, kissing your tears. Your hands claw into his skin as you force him closer, needing to feel him everywhere.

His pulls his hand away with a wet sound, while body shakes with the aftermath of your pleasure. You can see your release glistening on his skin as he lifts his hand towards his mouth. His tongue flicks out and you rise to meet him. He groans as you join him, running your tongue along his hand to wipe away any traces of your pleasure. Your tongues brush against each other as you both suck his fingers clean.

Your kiss is after desperate, your hands clutching each other's faces. Your essence mingling together in your mouths, on your tongues. With a roughness born of need, you drag your hands down his body and struggle with his jeans. You manage to pull the zipper down quickly and push them down just enough to feel him through his briefs. He groans as you run your hand along him, creating a wet spot as you tease him through the thin layer of fabric. His hands move down to your hips and he delivers a light slap, causing you to moan loudly before pulling away from him.

You push him down onto the bed, rising up onto your knees above him. Pulling his jeans off of him, your voice is raw, “I need to feel you Bjorn… Want to ride you. Wanna feel all of you.”

He licks his dry lips in anticipation, “Need to feel you too love, feel how tight you are… Wanna see you cum on top of me.” You bite your lip to suppress a whimper and nod. Dragging his underwear down, his pretty cock flops onto his stomach, its tip an angry pink and oozing with desire. Desire for you. You can't resist kissing his thighs as you make your way up towards him. Giving his cock a small lick and trailing kisses up the vein on the underside, you grasp it in your hand. It's heavy and throbbing in your hand as you taste him.

His neck rolls back in pleasure and he pulls your hair, drawing you up. “Enough teasin’ love.” He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you. Your hair falls around you like a curtain as you straddle him. Your breasts brush against his chest as you reach towards your core. Gathering the slick moisture between your legs, you bring it down to him, coating him in your cum. The heat of your arousal is palpable on his cock. You begin to position tip at your entrance.

Just as you lower yourself onto him, you pause and tense, “Fuck!” You feel his cock jump in your hand, you voice begging, “Please tell me you have a condom.”

He gives a short, tense chuckle, “pocket.” Glancing around, you see it hanging on the headboard. Your breasts are shoved in his face as you desperately grasp his jeans. He raises to mouth to your breast, while the grasping your ass in both hands, kneading them. Quickly ripping open the condom, you place the condom on him in a slow stroke. His grunt sends vibrations through your body, making you shudder. Lowering yourself onto him, you savor the feeling of his tip at your entrance before sinking down onto him completely.

A gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to the feeling of fullness. His hands grasp your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with barely restrained desire. He removes his lips from your chest and moves to your neck. Nipping at your neck, he whispers in your ear, “You feel perfect, love. As sweet and tight as I knew you’d be…S-so good.”

Slowly, you begin to move, rocking against him in a sensual rhythm. Your clit grinds into him with each twist. You drag your nails through the tufts of hair below his navel and you watch as his stomach trembles. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with passion, as you find your pace. The friction builds deliciously with each roll of your hips. Soft moans fill the air as you lose yourself in the pleasure, your movements becoming more urgent.

Panting with effort, you moan over the slick sound of your bodies, “Fuck…You feel so good inside of me…Better than my fingers…” You gasp and bring his face to yours, “You know that pretty boy? My pretty boy…I touched myself to the thought of you. Your pretty mouth…” Fingers squeezing his lips briefly before moving to his hand.

“I love your hands… knew they’d reach places I couldn't.” Kissing his hand, his pupils dilate under your gaze. Feeling his cock pulse at your words, you squeeze. Moaning, you brush sweaty hair from his forehead and lean in, voice soft, “But your cock. I’ve dreamt of your cock Bjorn. Thought about what it would feel like. About how full I’d feel with your pretty cock inside of me.” You slam your hips down as you press your lips together.

He pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms tight around your back. Positioning his feet on the bed, his hips rise to meet yours, driving himself deeper. The change in angle sends sparks of ecstasy through you. Your head falls back as you cry out, overcome by the intensity. His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer as you chase your release.

Your fingers dig into his hair as waves of pleasure crash over you. He groans, low and guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest. His pace quickens, becoming almost frantic.

"Let go," he whispers hoarsely against your ear. "Want to feel you squeeze my cock." Bjorn’s words send a shiver down your spine. You feel yourself teetering on the edge, every nerve ending alight. When his thumb finds your most sensitive spot, circling with delicious pressure, it's too much. You cry out, clinging to him as you shudder and pulse around him. He holds you tight, guiding you through the waves of your climax.

As you start to come down, he captures your lips in a searing kiss. His hips still move against yours, chasing his own release. You run your fingers through his hair, savoring the feeling of him moving inside you. With a final thrust, he buries himself one last time and moans through his release.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. Separating from his soft lips, you rest your head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat gradually slow. A bead of sweat trickles down your back. The room is silent except for your mingled breathing.

After a long moment, he gently brushes your hair back from your face. You look up and meet his eyes. They're dark, pupils still dilated with lingering desire. He leans down and kisses you softly, tenderly.

"That was..." he murmurs against your lips.

"Entirely worth the fucking wait," you finish for him.

Bjorn throws his head back in a laugh. A small gasp escapes your lips at the sensation. His softened cock still inside you, connecting your bodies. Flipping you, he lays you gently on the bed before slowly removing himself from you. You both moan as you watch him leave you. Glancing around, he sees the bathroom. Grabbing his underwear on the way, he disappears into the bathroom.

He returns with a wet cloth and gives you a gentle peck as he cleans you. Throwing the cloth, he slides into bed, and you curl around him. He reaches down and pulls the blanket up over your entangled bodies. You snuggle into his warmth, feeling utterly content and satisfied.

Bjorn’s voice is gentle in the quiet night, “D’you mind if I stay?”

Too exhausted to give vocal answer, you nod and hold him tighter as your eyes slide shut.

Next Part

[mistress-of-vos]

Ra's is Tim's Catwoman

Send tweet

This is actually something I have written! Not exactly like that, but a mention of it:

(...) Tim took the wine bottle and poured himself another glass, “Stop making this weird. God, why me?”

“... The answer is extensive, and tonight I find myself impatient” murmured Ra’s, eyes avoiding Tim for a moment and then back, darker, “Timothy, you seem to forget it was you who started this – how did your father call it? A game?”

Tim choked, drops of wine, blood and saliva falling to the white tablecloth. “H-He called you my Catwoman, which is gross. You wouldn’t look half as good in leather!”

Self promo aside! I do enjoy how Ra'sTim takes elements that are already present in other ships. Similar to BatCat, there's a constant chasing between them, and in Tim's own words, Ra's is seduction. I think they have their own dance, which isn't exactly a copy of BatCat nor BruTalia, but in my perspective, slightly closer to the first one.

Tim, like Bruce, is weak to the seduction in front of him. It's hard to deny your love for someone who isn't even doing wrong, and the constant chasing and games are foreplay for them. But it's Ra's the cat or the mouse? Tim also plays the game rather well, and it's Tim who sneaks through Ra's' life and steals from him (his time, his mind, his heart). Ra's is like Bruce too, in different ways than Tim.

Both Ra's and Tim chase the other, and they also like being chased. Sometimes Tim is the mouse, the cat, the bird, the viper. He is "the hero", yet he seduces Ra's back, and Ra's takes it, because Ra's is "the villain", and what he wants he gets.

They are two egos at war. Two quests trying to win. Two brilliant, passionate men that have endured pain and shall endure more.

But in the end, Tim stays in Gotham, next to Batman. And Ra's, closer to certain thief, prefers to run free and conquer the world.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56108962

[retrosabers]

𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐒.

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: sometimes you and eddie’s banter can take a bit of a turn

warnings: allusions to smut, swearing

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this is a very small little something to ease myself back into writing. let me know if you would be interested in a second part! :)

“cut the shit munson.” you spit from your place at the other end of the drama room. “you don’t intimidate me.”

eddie laughs, a cynical sound that rumbles from deep within his chest. the boy smirks, and you have to fight the urge to jump across the table and smack him.

“oh really?” he leans back in his throne, spreading his legs wide. “then why are you standing all the way over there?”

you roll your eyes, poking your tongue into your cheek. his arrogance was unyielding, and it seemed especially true when he was in his element like this. eddie was always one for theatrics, even more so after a session of his beloved dungeons and dragons.

it was so irritating.

eddie cocks his head to the side, eyeing you in a condescending way. with a narrowing gaze, you slowly saunter over to his seat, eyes never leaving his. the smirk on his face intensifies. like he had you right where he wanted.

there’s always been a cat and mouse game between you and eddie. a competition to see who could push each other’s buttons the most. your friends nagged you both about the tension that so obviously lingered in the air, but you could never tell if it was from a growing dislike, or just the opposite.

whether eddie was a thorn in your side or the apple of your eye, you would never give him the satisfaction of letting him win. ever. especially in this moment.

the boy props his foot against the edge of the table, and pushes it back. the squeaking sound startles your ears, and eddie can’t help but be amused at the way you flinch. you gracefully slip past him and lean against the table’s edge. you’re situated right between his legs with a sharpness in your eyes that makes his head spin.

“i don’t have all night eddie.” you say with a bit more venom than intended. it was a long and stressful day, and you had been running around campus like a maniac looking for your chemistry notes only to find out the biggest pain in your ass had stolen them after first period.

“relax princess,” he reassures with mock concern. the pet name sets your skin ablaze and he takes note of the way your fists curl around the table’s edge when he says it. “got it right here.”

he reaches behind him for the worn out red notebook.

you scoff. “funny how you would steal my notes for the one class you and i both know you’re not gonna pass.”

he dramatically places his hands over his heart, your notebook pressed against the logo of his hellfire shirt.

“ouch. you’re killing me over here.”

“a girl can dream,” you quip back, lunging to grab your notes so you can just go home. of course, he’s quicker than you, and tosses the journal back onto the table right as you swing foward.

you lose your balance and quickly brace yourself on the arms of the throne. you glance up and find the darkest of chocolate brown eyes boring into yours. your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily, causing eddie to break out a shit eating grin.

“so you do dream about me.” he replies with a cockiness that’s surprising even for him. you’re close enough that you can smell the faint aroma of tobacco on his breath and you can really see the length of his lashes. god, why was eddie munson so pretty? the realization makes your stomach flutter, churning with a feeling that’s never been associated with him before.

but then you remember that it’s eddie, and eddie’s only trying to see you cave before he does. you’re the only person he can rile up like nobody’s business and the feeling is more than mutual. you’ve got each other in equally vulnerable positions; it’s just a matter of who’s facade is going to crack first.

“you’re right.” you admit, your voice far more sheepish than he’s ever heard. it’s bordering submissive, something eddie’s not sure anyone has ever seen from you before. the notion goes straight to his crotch.

the corner of his mouth twitches. it eggs you on.

“i dream about you a lot.” your voice is barely above a whisper as you lean in even closer, palms planted firmly on either side of eddie. a cage of sorts that he’s seemingly fine with being trapped in.

you notice the way he’s fully leaning back now, removing his arms from beside yours to tuck them behind his head. it gives you a peak of some of his other tattoos, and a new angle of his biceps that will likely be the subject of your thoughts for the rest of the day.

“oh yeah?” he asks, voice an octave lower than before. “tell me about it.”

you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and eddie has to fight the urge to close the gap. your lips are nearly touching, hot breath fanning over each other’s cheeks as you feign innocence.

“we’re always in bed.” you continue, eyes flicking over eddie’s form. you can see the way he’s breathing a little faster, and you can definitely see the tent forming in his jeans. you look back up at his eyes and his pupils are nearly black.

you boldly dance your fingers up his torso. “sometimes you’re on top, sometimes i am.”

eddie prays you miss the way his cock twitches at the thought. he doesn’t want to imagine the ridicule he would face if your friends found out. it’s exactly what you’re aiming for.

in an effort to get his mojo back, he gently cups your jaw, tracing the outline of your cupid’s bow with his thumb. he moves it down to pull back your bottom lip, watching with intent eyes as the plush flesh snaps back into place.

heat pools between your legs, threatening to put a crack in your plan that’s very clearly working. but god, there’s such a satisfaction at watching eddie be wrapped around your finger, so entranced by whatever your next move is. you’ve gotta keep the upper hand.

“the best part though” you tease with a wicked grin, ghosting your lips over his.

eddie hums. he raises his brows defiantly, like he’s daring you to confess that you’ve been thinking about him the way he thinks about you. he doesn’t care if this is some stupid fucking back and forth. he wants to hear you say it.

when your hand trails back down and brushes over his crotch, he nearly loses it. you lean in beside his ear, offering a low sultry whisper. the boy’s eyes flutter shut, preparing for whatever’s coming next.

“is when i get to stick a pillow over your face.”

his eyes shoot back open in an instant.

you look like the cat who caught the canary. a devious, cheshire-like smile on your face as you slowly back away from him with your notebook in hand.

“smooth,” he deadpans, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to distract from the now very obvious boner he has.

“sorry, sweetheart,” you mock him, returning to your original place at the other end of the room. “i’ve gotta fly.”

in a bold move, he asks, “does this mean i should swipe your stuff more often?”

your bravado falters for a moment at his question. then, it returns tenfold.

“you’re gonna have to find out.”

you saunter out of the drama room with a teasing salute, picking up your bag from it’s place by the door. eddie, flustered yet scorned, laughs out into the empty room. the sound reverberates off the walls and the empty soda cans still scattered on the table.

two can play at this game. you may have won this round, but there was plenty more coming .

he was so going to get you back.

thanks for reading! <3

[felixcloud6288]

All descriptions taken from TvTropes.

Cantarella:

Cantarella is a fantasy manga about the youth of Cesare Borgia, warrior, politician, and second son of Pope Alexander VI. Only here, he's possessed by demons, with a Red Right Hand to prove it.

Death Note:

In the land of the dead, a bored Shinigami named Ryuk decides to create some entertainment for himself by dropping a Death Note into the human world.

Light Yagami, a brilliant-yet-disillusioned Japanese student, sees the notebook fall into his world and picks it up. On a whim, he tries out the instructions held within its pages, and discovers that he can kill whomever he wants, however he wants, by writing their name and (optionally) cause of death into the Death Note.

While initially horrified at his actions, Light rationalises that he can use the Death Note as a force for good by purging the rotten and corrupt elements of society, thus creating a world free of crime and violence. A cult following soon arises around the mysterious assassin killing off criminals across the country, christening him "Kira". Kira's actions soon attract the attention of the international police community, now with grave concerns about the vigilante killings, and the world's greatest detective, an enigma of a man known only as "L".

L becomes determined to solve the mystery of Kira and his impossible killing method, employing increasingly aggressive and risky strategies to get the information he wants. Meanwhile, Light spirals into madness as he becomes consumed by both his egomaniacal "Kira" persona and his desperate need to stay one step ahead of L's investigation. It's a cat-and-mouse game neither man can afford to lose — and both of them want to win at all costs.

Dungeon Meshi:

In a fantasy world of dungeon exploration, guilds go out on expeditions to raid dungeons, hoping to find the mysterious Golden Kingdom claimed to be the ultimate treasure of a particular island dungeon, said to be created by a Lunatic Magician after sinking the Kingdom below the ground. Human knight Laios Touden and his adventuring team are saved from a Total Party Kill by a fearsome beast, the Red Dragon, when his sister, Falin, sacrifices herself to teleport them all out of danger. Now she's in the dragon's belly, and it's only a matter of time before she's digested and it's too late to revive her. Laios and his friends must delve back into the depths to recover her remains — but there's not enough time or resources to buy enough rations for the trip. His solution: take advantage of the sprawling ecosystem of the dungeon itself by cooking the various monsters within into delicious, wholesome, dungeon-sourced meals.

Fruits Basket:

After the death of her mother, young Tohru Honda has been secretly living on her own in a tent. Her life changes forever when she stumbles upon the secret of the estate she is living on illegally: the land is owned by the Sohma family, who are afflicted by a Hereditary Curse that changes thirteen members of the family into animals of the Eastern Zodiac (plus the Cat, an animal who would have been part of the Zodiac but was left out) when they are hugged by someone of the opposite sex that is not also a Zodiac member. Oh, and the family is a hotbed of horribly abusive parents and children with enough emotional issues to make a shrink very wealthy.

Upon being discovered and taken in by the Sohmas, sweet-natured Tohru becomes embroiled in the dysfunctional family's various crises, bringing the outside world to the closed-off family while also having to confront some issues of her own.

Goodnight Punpun:

Goodnight Punpun (Oyasumi Punpun) is a supremely bizarre Seinen manga by Inio Asano about the title character, Punpun. Punpun is a young, innocent, and naive child, who, in some kind of strange stylistic choice, is depicted as a simplistic sketch of a bird despite everyone outside of his family looking like a normal human. He has no real dreams, his father is an abusive deadbeat (at least, he appears to be), and his mother is a drunk who regrets having him, but Punpun has one thing: a pretty girl named Aiko whom he fawns over. Well, her, and an afro-clad and slightly useless god he can summon by chanting 'Dear God, dear God, tinkle hoy!'

The story begins as a Slice of Life comedy, following Punpun through his childhood as he deals with his family life, his school life, his social life, and his budding romantic life. While noticeably dark, it also contains a hint of child-like innocence. However, as the series progresses, it develops into an extremely dark Coming of Age story, with all innocence being wiped away. While the humor remains, it takes a backseat to experiences of Punpun, his family, and his acquaintances as they deal with the hardships of adolescence, adulthood, and life in general. The story is split roughly into four arcs: Punpun's life in elementary school, middle school, high school, and as a young adult.

Running concurrently with Punpun's story is a very odd side plot about a cult-like movement trying to (apparently) save the world through "good vibrations", which some of Punpun's classmates end up involved in. It's possibly even more weird and unsettling than anything going on with Punpun, as it's never quite clear if it's real or the mad ramblings of its leader.

Haikyuu:

In junior high, Shōyō Hinata gained a sudden interest in volleyball due to seeing a match on television, which featured a star player nicknamed "The Little Giant", and yearned to follow in his footsteps to become a volleyball ace despite his short stature. Hinata starts his own volleyball club, which no one joins, and practices rigorously by himself. Eventually he convinces enough people to make up a rag-tag team consisting of a couple of members who haven't even played volleyball before just so he could compete in a tournament. His team is quickly annihilated by Tobio Kageyama - "King of the Court" - and his champion team. After suffering a miserable defeat, Hinata vows to defeat Kageyama and surpass him as a volleyball player.

Upon entering Karasuno High School - the school "The Little Giant" attended - Hinata learns that he's now on the same team as Kageyama. The two must learn to work together so they can restore Karasuno to its former greatness.

Ouran High School Host Club

Welcome to Ouran Academy, a distinguished school that provides education to the children of the rich and powerful. Only the wealthiest families can afford to send their sons and daughters to the academy. Thankfully for those whose bank accounts aren't nearly as inflated, Ouran does offer a scholarship program to any hopefuls who wish to attend.

Enter Haruhi Fujioka, one such scholarship student who dreams about becoming a lawyer like her late mother. Unfortunately, her plans to study hard and keep to herself are destroyed when she happens upon the Host Club. This unusual high school club entertains female students through a combination of flirtatious banter and roleplaying, with each of its six members catering to different tastes in boys; there's Takashi "Mori" Morinozuka, the tall and stoic type; Mitsukuni "Honey" Haninozuka, the bubbly and sweet type; the Hitachiin twins, Hikaru and Kaoru, a pair of tricksters who pretend to be madly in love with each other; Kyoya Ohtori, the cool and aloof type; and Tamaki Suoh, the princely type and the Host Club's leader and founder.

Flustered by her discovery, Haruhi's attempt to leave Music Room 3 ends with her accidentally breaking an incredibly expensive vase. Mistaking her for a boy at first, Tamaki declares Haruhi their errand boy, only knocking "him" up to host status when he sees Haruhi's potential. It isn't until after he gives Haruhi a customer quota that Tamaki discovers she's actually a girl.

Before she knows it, Haruhi is swept up into the Host Club's eccentric world as well as the private realms of its individual members. As their school life unfolds, both Haruhi and the rest of the Host Club will affect each other's lives in ways none of them could have imagined.

Please Save My Earth

Alice is an Ordinary High-School Student and Friend to All Living Things. One day, as she's serving as the Badly Battered Babysitter to the neighbor's trip-and-a-half of a boy, she has a chance encounter with two guys from her school class, and in the course of the discussion, it comes out that they've all been having dreams about being alien scientists on the moon studying earth, all in precisely the same continuity.

Eventually, all seven of the scientists at the base are found to have been reincarnated as Japanese teenagers. Their base — and all its weapons — is still operational, and the seven of them must find a way to balance their obligations from past lives with their new lives on Earth…

Tsukihime:

After being involved in a major accident, the young heir of an affluent family, named Shiki Tohno, awakens in a hospital to find parts of his memory are missing and he can see glowing, pulsing red lines covering everything in his sight, from inanimate objects such as his bed to the living doctors and nurses treating him. Furthermore, he discovers that by tracing something along these lines, whatever they're on will fall apart with frightening ease. Growing increasingly unstable staring at a world that could literally fall to pieces with a mere touch, Shiki attempts to escape the hospital, only to come face to face with a self-styled "Magician", who teaches Shiki about his condition, tries to instill in him the beauty and value of life, and as a parting gift gives him a special pair of glasses that hide the lines from what the Magician calls his "Mystic Eyes of Death Perception". Finally able to somewhat recover, Shiki is soon sent away to live with a branch family of the Tohnos, while his sister is made the new heir in his place.

Years later, Shiki is now a high-school student and living a normal life — that is, until he receives some devastating news: his father has died, and he must return to the main Tohno household at once. As Shiki settles into his new home and altered school life, and attempts to reconnect with his estranged family, he happens to cross paths with a strange blonde-haired girl with piercing red eyes on the street. Seized by an overwhelming, unknown desire, Shiki follows her into an alley, and by the time he has regained his senses finds he has cut her into 17 distinct pieces for no apparent reason before passing out in shock… only to then wake up in his bed at home. Was he dreaming? What force could possibly compel him to commit such a horrifying act? Is this somehow linked to his Mystic Eyes of Death Perception, or his family's rumored occult past? And… hang on, did that red-eyed girl just show up again claiming he murdered her? Despite looking no worse for wear? And… does she have a crush on Shiki?!

Umineko no Naku Koro Ni:

Umineko: When They Cry is a kinetic sound novel by 07th Expansion that takes place primarily on October 4th and 5th, 1986, on the island of Rokkenjima. The rich Ushiromiya family is gathering in order to discuss what will happen to patriarch Kinzo's inheritance, since he has been ill in recent days. The protagonist, Battler, has returned to his family after 6 years of rebellion and is eager to reunite with his cousins.

While the arguments about the inheritance ensue, a typhoon traps all 18 people on the island. The family then finds a mysterious letter from a person claiming to be Kinzo's alchemy counselor, the Golden Witch, Beatrice. Beatrice claims that she has been summoned by Kinzo to claim the inheritance, as the family has been deemed unworthy of it. Unless someone solves the riddle of the epitaph on her portrait before 24:00 hours on October 5th and becomes the family successor, Beatrice will claim everything that the family owns, including the ten tons of gold that Kinzo claims will be given to the successor. This is only the beginning of the strange and shocking events that will occur on the island during these two days. Panic, reasoning, romance, heated confrontations and TONS of Mind Screw ensues.

Wolfs Rain:

The Earth sits on the edge of death; years of war between greedy Nobles have reduced the world to a handful of high-tech, Giger-esque cities amidst a barren wilderness. Only a single, small hope still remains: an old legend which says that in civilization's last days, wolves will follow the scent of lunar flowers to Paradise. It sounds promising, but no one has seen either a wolf or a lunar flower for centuries… or so they think.

The world's remaining wolves learned how to project illusions that make them look and sound human in order to protect themselves. Four such wolves — Kiba, Tsume, Hige, and Toboe — meet up in one of the decaying domed cities after noticing the scent of lunar flowers in the air. They soon discover the source of that scent: Cheza, a mysterious young girl genetically bred from a lunar flower by a group of Nobles who want to open a gateway to Paradise.

When a Noble by the name of Darcia kidnaps Cheza to use her healing powers to help his ill fianceé, both the wolves and the feuding Nobles behind Cheza's creation chase after him. An obsessive wolf hunter named Quent complicates the feud, as he knows exactly how wolves protect themselves and works tirelessly to kill them at all costs (with the help of his loyal dog, Blue).

[saltsongwc]

What all gives Spotted her lives?

-🐻

Spottedstar's 9 Lives Ceremony

The darkness of the cave only highlighted the drops of rain down into the crystals.

Drip.

Drip. 

Drip.

Runningnose was ahead of her, lean and slightly sickly body, the one outline she could still perceive in the darkness that engulfed them both.

‘This is it’ She thought, a proud purr escaping her throat, her whiskers twitched with anticipation and she raised her head proudly while her paws bled from the hard rock ‘I will face them and claim what I earned’.

She’s taken back to her first time as an apprentice, seeing the giant crystal, even more recently when Bluestar had asked for company while communicating with Starclan, when Fireheart was just an apprentice, the night Lionheart died.

The crystal was glowing under the moonlight, she felt her pelt rise when what received her was not the cool welcome she had felt the first time, etched into her memory, rather an oppressive frost that was hostile to whatever cat dared to enter. A final test, the question she needed to ask herself and the one the stars needed an answer for.

“...Are you ready Spottedstem?” The medicine cat asked. 

“Of course I am” it’s spoken as softly as she can muster, with the underlying hiss of an impatient kit, and her walk towards the crystal makes her paws freeze, frost building underneath them, her body colder despite Leaf Bare being moons ahead.

The touch of her nose however, basks her in a soft comforting warmth, she’s back in the nursery being tended to by her mother Swiftbreeze, the queen shielding her and her siblings from the elements, it’s easy to fall asleep like that.

When her eyes open, she is not greeted by the clearings and fields that had first greeted her, rather the oppressive forest which resembled Shadowclan, scarcely sparse, gray in color, faintly ahead she could see the fields of Starclan hidden between the trees, and behind her, the forest becoming denser and denser.

“Was it worth it?” Her head snapped up, the glowing body of stars tilting their head to the side, like a curious owl playing with a mouse. She squinted her eyes, and the body became clearer, the familiar pelt and face, red tail curling over their paws, and a mournful expression “Everything?”

She felt words fail her for a moment, a regret she could taste all those moons back when his blood was running down her jaws and his body lay heavy on her back.

“Everything”

His face turned away from her, for a moment his eyes could only tell her a disturbance, a regret, a yearning to return to their apprentice days and hunt together in the first all those seasons ago.

When he looked back, they were hazy and cloudy with the wisdom of seasons beyond what any of them had seen, and probably would see.

“Very well, Starclan will grant you your nine lives”

In a moment, the branches of the trees that hid the clearings opened and parted, a quiet permission shared between her and the Clan, she began walking forward but spotted once the rustle of the leaves were not accompanying, and she turned back to her brother who just remained seated.

“I will not give you a life, sister” His words stung, worse than what Spottedstem could imagine they would, his eyes sad “...But what you want to carry forward, what your plan is, please, think it through again, and if you do, you’ll come back to me safe and we will hunt together in the fields when you pass”

Before she could answer, he disappeared between the starry foliage.

Ahead, the ten cats that greeted her were familiar and unfamiliar, faces from her past woven between those of ancient history. The first cat that stepped forward, thankfully, was a familiar one.

“Oh my kit” her brown tabby pelt had the scent from new leaf and the hug she gave her returned her to just apprentice days, when she was scared to hunt, Swiftbreeze’s eyes however, were soured in disappointment “...The seasons have not been kind Spottedstem, my sweet, sweet kit”

“I stand before you as a new leader” She grits, and her mother’s whiskers twitch before taking a step back.

“Yes… And with this life, I give you strength. Strength of character, in battle, may all your foes remember who you are, who you’ll become, the strength to carry forward and know when to change, it takes more strength than one might know”

Swiftbreeze’s life made her legs almost give out on her, all the air escaping from her lungs, a final breath in one's sleep, peaceful and heavy, but she remained up.

When her mother stepped away, the next cat was a ginger and white she-cat, with a flower-like patch of orange on her shoulder, long flowing fur and a kind smile.

“I am Flowerstar, I was leader of Shadowclan many, many moons ago” she was tall, taller than Spottedstem, so her eyes looked down not in arrogance but rather understanding “I was not my leader’s deputy, like you, I was chosen by Starclan to succeed our would be leader as she died the night before. I admire your desire to make Shadowclan safe and great, after all the sickness we have endured for moons” She touched her nose on her head “With this life, I give you Faith, in Starclan, in your Clan, in all the warriors around you so you might know that if you put your faith in others they will follow as well”

A sudden, quick and precise strike to her throat had Spottedstem gasp, her claws digging on the soft grass, and when she looked up, Flowerstar could only smile.

The small pawsteps of a cat no older than 6 moons turned her attention away from the leader, with a badger pelt and a head held as high as he could.

“Hi! I’m Badgerfang”

“A warrior huh?” She whispered, her mind coming to the understanding of what had happened.

The little warrior walked up to her, and she lowered her head so he could touch it better “With this life, I give you compassion! To those around you, to the ones who you don’t know, may you always use it to the smallest of mouse and the biggest of deers”

She was not ready for the strikes that fell upon her pelt, like a thousand claws that tore her body like a scrap of prey, her eyes widened and stared at the little cat, who just smiled sadly before following Flowerstar away.

The next cat, boney and with a light gray fur, almost white, stepped forward, she passed Badgerfang with a soft touch to his nose with her tail and approached Spottedstem with the gracefulness a father would do through a gentle breeze. Her eyes sized her over, just a bit taller than the stranger, and the grumble in her throat was given to a satisfactory nod.

“We would have been strangers across battlefields, and barely a passing prayer lumped with others” she stretched her neck and touched her forehead “But tonight, we are clanmates in the afterlife, I am Whitetail, and I give you the life of Skill, admire what you have done to get here, stand proud for you have achieve what all kits dream”

It was the first praise she has gotten since reaching here, and it came with a piercing strength that almost tumbled her over from her side, powerful force, and yet the pain persisted for a moment, before her lungs heaved out her final breath.

Whitetail’s whiskers twitched, and her eyes unclouded from wisdom for a moment “Beware the frost Spottedstem” she whispered, almost secretively before retreating back into the starry fields.

The next cat was one she could not picture in her ceremony, the feathery long fur of Featherwhisker, the old medicine cat that could one day had been her mentor stood in front of her with a regret deeper than even Swiftbreeze’s, as soon as she saw them, they clouded in wisdom.

“I didn’t need herbs to guide me here” she spat, and he took a step backwards before sighing and looking away.

“No, no you didn’t Spottedstem” He places his nose on her forehead, a soft whisper in her ears “I give you a life for Spirit, in youth and in death, know that we have not abandoned you” 

She never really thought how he must’ve died, cold and shivering, her cough was unstopping and hurt with each one.

The next cat, a long running scar that opened the side of his muzzle and showed his teeth, stepped forward, redish pelt and mangled unkept fur, he glanced back to Featherwhisker, who nodded his head in respect and moved away, the strangers eyes seemed to be searching for someone among the crowd, and his lack of findings finally made him step onwards to Spottedstem.

“You are one smart kit I give you that” he grumbled “and I can just wonder if it’ll continue to be like that”

“You sound like an old bird I used to know” her remark made him wheeze out a lough, loudly and booming.

“Oh I know your old bird, I’m nothing like him, when Flowerstar was just a warrior, I faked the omen to make her leader, much like your medicine cat faked your predecessors ceremony to the whole clan” Her eyes glanced behind her, to the oppressive forest, to her body sleeping beside the moonstone guarded by Runningnose “Don’t worry, you’re in good paws, he knows it’s going well”

“And you tell me this because?”

“Faith is good, I did not act alone, Starclan told me themselves to pick, but faith cannot just be your guide, so with this life, I give you Instincts, trust in them, and you will get far”

His death was much similar to Swiftbreeze, heavy and empty.

From the shadows, a black cat with specks of gray stepped forward, eyes green and sickly, yet his frame looked healthier than what it’d probably been in moons, Nightstar walked to her and gently pressed his nose to her head.

“Know I do not approve of the path you took, but I cannot deny when Shadowclanasked for a leader you were the one the stars accepted” it was a small admission, and a single nod to continue “with this life, I grant you Foresight, to be aware of what the future holds, so you might use it to be aware of what it might happen”

It wasn’t Featherwhisker’s sickness, it felt like something gnawing at her bones and through her chest, overpowering her eyes and clouding them until it stopped suddenly, when she finally regained her vision, her old mentor’s gaze was the one that first thing she saw.

“Thrushpelt” The kind tom nodded, and gave her a comforting lick between her ears.

“...I will not repeat to you what they have all said, or thought, I’m sure you’re aware of it, and you know why” she resisted the defensive growl that threatened to espace, but the flick of his tail and head turning away told her that perhaps he was expecting it “I just wish you would be standing her with bloodless claws, but I will not deny my apprentice her right, so with this life, I give you Bravery, may you never flinch to the choices you must take… but I don’t think you needed that” they both chuckled.

His death was not something that was at the back of her mind, because her mentor left no bad memories to mourn, his vigil was not one with sadness, rather laughter at the memory of the warrior, his death despite in battle, was comforting even in his life.

The second to last cat, a dark speckled she-cat walked up to her and gently touched noses, her yellow eyes like the morning clouds of Green Leaf were gazing far away from her.

“Your path, bloody and broken by bones, you have taken many cats far too soon Spottedstem, remember that, only act when necessary, never kill for security” she mumbled, shaking her head and stepping away “use this life of Mercy wisely”

The last cat was a lean and long furred molly, with a pelt as dark as the pine’s bark and eyes green like the foliage of the swamp, she stood as tall as one, and stars seemed to follow her pelt and her eyes.

“Greetings Spottedstem” her voice was barely a whisper, but she seem to be speaking with thousand of ones, booming through the fields and across the clearing, now onl holding the two she-cats “I stand before as Shadowclan’s first leader”

“You are my final life” The dark molly nodded and stepped forward.

“With this life, I give you Regret” she hissed the word, when it washed over Spottedstem she could only hold the ground with her claws and grit her teeth as 9 deaths came over her, one more painful than the rest “May you walk the path forward knowing what actions allowed you to thrive, and may you always regret the shadow that haunts you”

The leader stepped away from her, her gaze hardened and nodded, voice booming as if it commanded even the most reluctant of stars to chant with her.

“Starclan has granted you the nine lives of a leader,” they spoke, in a chorus as a single entity before her, gone were the familiar faces, now all amalgamated into a single pelt of stars “use them for Shadowclan, for you are its protector and star in the ground, and we welcome you as such as Spottedstar!”

“Spottedstar! Spottedstar! Spottedstar!”

“Spottedstem!” she opened her eyes, claws unsheathed and clawing the crystal with it, the fur on her neck stood up in attention, and her eyes quickly snapped towards Runningnose. The medicine cat shifted awkwardly under his paws, “Did it work?”

She stood up, feeling more energy than she had ever felt, the stone was alive and pulsing in front of her, she could see the eyes that curiously watched her, the smell of the marsh and pines accompanied her, keenly aware of the clan that was expecting with hold breaths the truth.

“Rest assured Runningnose, you will not need to lie again”