#but now it's finished and what i supposed to do?..

[chiscaralight]

nsfw kinich x fem reader. i love him, i miss him, choking, repaying favors iykyk

i’m so sorry but you know the part at the end of the last scions of the copy tribal quest where kinich says:

'promise me, if you need anything in the future you’ll come to me.’

so on a particularly tough night where your fingers aren’t doing enough, and humping your folded pillows insnt helping, you find yourself stumbling towards his home in the dead of the night. he swings the door open when he realizes it’s you, questioning why you’re here at such a weird hour.

“you said if i need anything i could come to you..”

“yeah, i did. what do you need?”

kinich is very precise with his work. it's something he's well known for, but you weren't too familiar with. but now, with his fingers expertly plunging in and out of your cunt as you struggle to keep your legs up, you understand what everyone means now. his face is inches from yours, breath fanning over your face as he studies your pleasured expression. your back is arching off the smooth wood of the door that he had you pressed against mere moments ago after you smashed your lips against his in the doorway.

his tongue is hot against your neck. you're desperately gripping at the wrist that's assaulting your sopping hole, weakly attempting to push it away from the sheer pleasure that's blooming throughout your lower half. you're whining, cries of his name dripping out of your lips as your thighs start to clamp down around your hand. and he's trying to ignore the throbbing in his pants because you came to him for help this time. you'd done a great deal for him, and it would be unfair to take something from you again so soon. but those eyes of yours, they're pleading, begging for him to just fill you up, as much as that perfect body of yours could take.

and he was right to trust his instincts because your cunt is sucking him in so well. his fingers are tight against your throat, pressing down as his free hand moves to wrap around your waist. he has perfect leverage like this, pulling your back against his chest as he fucks into you sharp and hard. your hands are gripping at nothing, the feeling of his cock combined with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain sending you into a sweet spiral. you can't even feel the words leave your mouth, soft whines and pleas surging into his ears as you mindlessly beg.

"i-inside, kinich. please, please-"

it's the least he could do, after everything you've done for him. he's also trying to convince himself that he's doing this for you, not because he's been thinking about pumping you full of his cum. sure, he'd finish his commissions early so he could drag mualani to come and hang out with the two of you, or purposefully rile up ajaw so he'd have a reason to put him in time out, giving him enough privacy to pump his length to the thought of you. but no, this was entirely about what he was willing to give back to you. so he'd free up your neck, letting your body softly drop to the bed, before securing your hips with both of his hands before ruining you. you're fisting the sheets, squealing hard as the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the room, his thrusts are messy and uncalculated, warmth painting your walls as his orgasm waves through the two of you. he's still smacking into you with such fervor, that you can't hold back your own climax, releasing around his still-hard length with a yell.

and he's obsessed with the white ring that's starting to form around the base of his cock from your orgasm. your pretty hole is still fluttering around him as he continues to move. he stills for just a second, then mutters an apology. he knows he's supposed to be assisting you here, but he just can’t help himself. he's going to have to take one more orgasm from you tonight, but he’ll make sure to give you one right back.

[muchosbesitos]

BODY PAINT

the plan for your birthday had been to just go get a tattoo. so how’d you end up getting eaten out too?

pairing: tattoo artist! geto suguru x fem reader

contents: modern au/no curses, pierced/tattoed geto, cunnilingus, pulling his hair, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it 🫵🏼), doggy, pet names (pretty girl, cutie, etc.), sucking his fingers, spanking (once), creampie, sorta kinda public sex?

author’s note: basically just a big self indulgence fic

word count: 5.8k

Portraits and portraits of art pieces covering the walls welcomed you as you stepped inside, the jingle of the bell perched on the front announcing your entrance. From dragons to variations of skulls—some with roses, lightning, and a couple of the grim reaper. You could easily lose yourself looking at all the different works, staring at how all the different lines came together and how the colors melded into one another.

“What're you looking for today?" A low baritone voice interrupted your brief exploration of the parlor. You turned to see a man standing at the counter with pigtails, a black line going across his nose and a couple piercings scattered across his pale face. How was it that you'd missed him upon walking inside?

"I was thinking about getting a tattoo, do you guys happen to accept walk-ins?" You responded, coming up to the counter where the man was standing. Choso, from what his name tag read. "We do, our current tattoo artist's busy though. You mind waiting about.. twenty minutes?"

You supposed it wasn't too bad after showing up without an appointment so you just simply nodded, going over to take a seat in the lobby. There was only one other person sitting on the end of the black sofa, their attention purely on the show playing on the TV mounted on the wall. You went from playing with your fingers to looking over at the TV, attempting to do anything that would make these twenty minutes pass by.

"Hey, go ahead and fill this out. And let me see your ID," Choso came back with a sheet of paper, a consent form. You fished for your ID in the back pocket of your jeans before handing it over to him, starting out with the task of filling out the paper. Signing your initials where it asked you to, reading through the different medical conditions that the paper explicitly listed out.

Your foot bounced against the floor as you waited, sudden nerves starting to hit you all at once now that you were in here. You knew that you wanted a tattoo, you'd been looking forward towards getting it for a few months now. But the little nagging voice inside your head told you that you could barely tolerate a needle at the doctor's office, and that was only for a couple seconds in of itself. How would you tolerate almost an hour of it?

A woman walked out from the back of the parlor, a tattoo of what seemed to be her birth year wrapped up in cling wrap. But your attention was quickly diverted to the man coming out after her—though, you supposed it would be hard not to stare at him. He was absolutely.. gorgeous. Long dark black hair that practically seemed to shine underneath the harsh lights tied back in a half bun, eyebrow and snake bites piercings accentuating the features of his face, and dark ink adorning his forearms.

"Here's the aftercare sheet, just shoot me a text or something if you have any concerns or anything," the man told the woman before she stepped away from the counter, handing her a white paper. The jingle of the bell echoed behind her as she left, leaving only the four of you alone in the lobby. Maybe this wasn't who Choso was talking about? You couldn't picture yourself or your panties for that matter lasting hours in a room with him.

Though, you probably should've expected as much with your luck.

"You got time for a walk-in?" Choso spoke up, nudging his head towards you when the other man was finished pocketing his tip. The man glanced over at you before pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through it for a couple seconds. "Yeah, I got time," the other man walked over, standing in front of you before extending a hand out, "Geto Suguru." The coldness from the silver rings adorning each of his fingers was a stark difference from how warm his hand seemed to be. You gave him your name, stopping the handshake before it prolonged more than it should've.

More than it already did.

"So, what type of tattoo were you looking for?" Geto pushed his hands in his pockets, standing back to allow for you to get up from the spot. "I'm not too sure how to describe it, but I have a reference photo, if that's okay?" You told him, getting your phone out to go back to your camera roll. "Yeah, that's fine. Just airdrop to me when you find it."

The smell of antibacterial spray filled your nose as you stepped in, the room somehow been more decorated than the one outside. Geto had a couple of his designs up on the wall along with a couple band posters—Nirvana, Iron Maiden, and Led Zeppelin being some of the more prominent ones. A couple figures placed on a shelf, photos decorating them as well.  "Go on and take a seat. I'll be right there," he told you, opening up one of his drawers.

You took a seat on the leather chair in the middle of the chair, leaning against it before looking over to see what he was doing. "So.. how bad is it supposed to hurt?" You decided to ask, bracing yourself for the worst answer that he could give you. Despite the fact that you knew arm tattoos weren't all that painful from the two hours of research you'd done. "I can't give you a straightforward answer since not everyone has the same pain tolerance. But I'll walk you through the process before I start."

"The first thing I'm gonna do is shave your arm," Geto started off, opening up a pack of razors in front of you. Almost like he wanted to reassure you that everything he was using was new. "Around what area do you want the tattoo?" You opened your arm, gesturing around your inner forearm. Geto shaved the hair around the middle, wiping the residue away with a tissue.

"Next thing I'm gonna do is rub some alcohol on there and put on this cream," he brought up a small container into your line of vision, "It's not numbing cream before you get any ideas. Just so the stencil sticks." The rest of the process had gone relatively fast, the smell of rubbing alcohol filling up the space between the two of you. Geto placed the stencil on your arm, looking over at you to gauge your reaction. "Is this placement okay or do you want me to change it? Don't hesitate to ask, since y'know.. it is kinda permanent."

After a couple minutes of deliberation, Suguru placed the stencil where you’d decided. "So I'm gonna go ahead and put the needle on your arm just to go ahead and see if you can tolerate it," the machine whirred to life with the press of a button, "If you don't think you can tolerate it, just let me know and I'll wipe off the stencil." Geto turned around to face you, the buzzing of the tattoo gun getting louder the closer it got to your arm. All the nerves that you'd felt earlier seemed so silly now. While you felt the pressure of the needle , it was nothing like the excruciating pain you'd heard others have.

You cleared your throat before looking back over at him again, "Yeah, I can handle it." Suguru simply nodded, uncapping the bottle of black ink before almost filling up the small container in front of him. He arranged the small containers almost perfectly aligned to each other, the small work space that he'd set in front of him looking meticulous. Even the napkin that he'd grabbed was neatly folded up in three squares.

You'd almost wished that it was Choso doing the tattoo instead. Because, this, well this simply just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how he managed to look so goddamn pretty just doing the most menial of tasks. The almost intoxicating scent of amber from his cologne filling up your senses with how close he was. You weren't sure if was better or worse for you that he didn't notice just how affected you were, of how much his presence alone was making you want to ditch the whole idea of getting a tattoo.

"You need something to help you relax? I got a couple stress balls hanging around or I could play something on the TV if you want," Suguru sat down on the rolling chair next to you, already grabbing the TV remote next to you. "Can you just play something, please?" Geto flickered through a couple of the channels available, settling on what was on the TV mounted outside. Not particularly your first choice, but enough to get your mind off the tattoo, at least.

And to get your mind off the very attractive man next to you trying to do his job.

"So, any meaning behind this tattoo or you just decided you wanted to get it?" Suguru broke the silence, though his focus was purely on tracing the piece of work in front of him. "Just saw it on Pinterest and I related to it a bit. Well, that and the design itself seemed pretty to me," you offered, staying still and keeping your attention on the TV. "I can follow the design that you showed me or I could try to improve on it. That is, if you have trust in my abilities," he spoke up after a couple seconds, purple eyes almost seeming to bore into you.

"Can I see some of your abilities in place?" As hot as the man was—you didn't want to risk the tattoo coming out like complete dog shit. Suguru let out a short laugh, getting up from his spot before flipping through a couple drawers. He came back with a leather bound sketchbook, placing it on your lap. "I'm not much to show my works to others, but feel free to flip around if that helps you decide," you opened up the sketchbook with your available arm, immediately being greeted with a plethora of colors.

Not only were the pieces themselves better than what you could've expected, but they were so realistic. The shading of each drawing accentuating it perfectly against the lighting of the room, almost like he'd focused on that more than the actual drawing. You shut the sketchbook after flipping through a couple pages of different flowers, animals, and whatever else his brain could conjure up—handing it back to an expectant Geto. "It'd be wrong not to have faith in you after seeing that," you mused, watching him set the sketchbook aside before he went back to tracing.

"Don't worry, I'm still gonna follow the whole outline and shit. Just wanna make it look a little bit better is all," he responded, dipping the needle onto the container of black ink before bringing it back to your arm. You turned to look at much progress he'd done after the forty minute episode had ended only to realize he was just finishing up with the tip of the design. An incredibly detailed tip, though. "You okay? Don't want you passing out on me or anything."

"No, I'm fine," you reassured, going back to watching the TV in the comfortable silence that had built in the room. The only sounds emanating from the room were the soft whirring of the tattoo gun and the screaming of a couple characters on screen. "Have you watched this before?" You decided to break the silence after a while, turning to look over at him. "Something like that. Haven't watched much after the fourth season. Don't really have a buncha time available to watch TV."

The rest of the session had gone moderately well, the two of you sitting in silence for a majority of the time albeit for a couple questions that either he or you asked. He was, oddly enough, easy to talk to. "Okay, I'm gonna go in with a white paint. It's gonna hurt more than the other one so just tell me if it gets to be too much," he told you, pouring white paint into one of those small containers. And you felt the difference between the two, looking over to see him adding small marks with the white paint. Small marks that were starting to hurt like a motherfucker.

"Easy, you did so well for me throughout the session. This is nothing compared to that," Suguru spoke up, raising the tattoo gun to give you a small break. One of his gloved hands went to the furrow settled in your brow, gently easing it over before changing out the gloves for a fresh pair. You weren't even sure when you'd even started to grimace so badly. "Easy for you to say," you grumbled underneath your breath, certain that he wouldn't have caught it. But if the way his eyes shot up to look at you with a slightly amused smile was anything to go by, he did.

"You make it so hard to be nice to you," Geto muttered, turning the tattoo gun back on and going back to adding the fine white strokes. Maybe it'd been the fact that he'd offered that small bit of reassurance or maybe it was the fact that you could feel the session was starting to come to an end, but the pain didn't quite feel as bad as the first go. "Alright, we're all done," he spoke up after a couple minutes, turning the tattoo gun off and placing it on the table next to him.

"You mind if I get a couple pictures?" He waited for you to nod before setting up the ring light next to you, pulling his phone out. You extended your arm out to where he had the camera pointed, the tattoo on display. "Mm, hold on," Suguru muttered to himself, one of his hands wrapping around your wrist to adjust the angle. His touch almost seeming to linger more than necessary. Surely, all of this wasn't necessary just for a single photo, right? Especially when you weren't even the subject of said photo.

"You're gonna want to avoid shaving or waxing the area while it's still healing, some peeling's normal but just come to me if you have any concerns," he continued to explain the process of the aftercare involved, wrapping the tattoo up in cling wrap. "Try not to fuck it up," Geto led you over to the front desk, ringing you up for the price. "Wasn't it $120 and not $100?" You questioned, grabbing your wallet from your pocket.

"Consider it a birthday discount of sorts, pretty girl," the nickname spilled out so easily that you might've almost missed it. As if you needed more things to overthink about from this encounter. You handed him a hundred dollar bill with a ten dollar tip, giving him a short thanks before leaving the parlor. You looked over at the aftercare sheet that he'd given you at the counter, seeing his Instagram scrawled out in pretty decent penmanship. Well, at least you had plans for when you got back to your apartment tonight.

You knew that the tattoo was healing nicely—that you'd put the expensive ass ointment that Geto had recommended the designated three times a day. So why exactly did you find yourself standing outside the tattoo parlor once more? Out of concern for the new ink or just wanting to see Suguru once more? It couldn't be the latter, right? Not like you'd spent hours scrolling through his Instagram these last couple days to see what he'd thought about the tattoo. Definitely not the latter.

After all, he did say come to him if you had any concerns.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Choso to greet you at the counter this time around. Suguru was standing there, rearranging a couple pieces of body jewelry onto the glass display before he lifted his head to see who'd walked in the door. "You didn't let it get infected, did you? I spent hours on that thing," he didn't even bother with a greeting as Choso had done, already looking annoyed at the prospect. "Your concern for my health's endearing too."

"Yeah, yeah, what're you here for?"

"I just wanted to check up with you to see if the tattoo was healing nicely," the practiced lie slipped out of your tongue without any effort, plenty of rehearsals in your head allowing for it to slip out with any second thought.

"Alright, I have a couple minutes before my next appointment gets here," Suguru gestured for you to join him, opening the door for you. The space looked pretty much the same as the day you'd come in—which you should've expected, since it was only a week ago—albeit for a couple pencils scattered on top of a sketchbook in the middle of his desk. You took a seat on the leather chair, waiting for him to finish cleaning up his space.

Suguru grabbed a white box of gloves, grabbing a pair before placing them on. "So, what're you concerned about?" He questioned, long fingers running through your skin as he looked at how the tattoo was healing. "Well, it's been peeling a bit. I just wanted to know if that was normal or if I'm fucking something up somehow. I've been putting on the ointment you recommended three times a day."

Geto let out a small hum before leaning back on the rolling chair, folding his arms across his chest. His very muscular arms, the material of his black button down practically straining against them with the motion. "Your tattoo seems to healing well. Bit of peeling's normal as a new layer of skin comes in, nothing to worry about too much. Usually the area starts to get red if it's starting to get infected."

And maybe you should've taken that as a cue to leave. But you found yourself wanting to bask in whatever couple seconds that he would give you, unable to think about any other opportunities where you'd see him. Well, any other opportunities that didn't involve you spending upwards of a hundred dollars. You made no effort to move just yet, folding your hands over your lap. Trying to think of anything else to prolong this visit.

A couple moments of silence pass between the two of you before Suguru opens his mouth up to speak, only to get interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Yo, someone named Larue's here for their appointment," Choso called out from the other side, his foot tapping against the hardwood floor. Suguru gives you a glance before answering back, "Ask him to reschedule. Tell him that I'm sorry and I'll give him a discount or something."

Choso's heavy boots echoed against the floor as he walked away, leaving you alone with Geto once more. "So, tell me, what exactly is it that you're doing here again? And don't lie to me, talking about some 'I wanna see if my tattoo's healing properly,'" And you almost rolled your eyes at the way he raised his voice in pitch, mocking you with a short chuckle. Almost.

"First of all, I don't sound like that. Second, I really did just come to see if it was healing properly," And despite your words, you couldn't bring yourself to move from the chair just yet. "So maybe I should go tell Larue to come back for his appointment. Since we determined your tattoo's healing nicely, our time's done," You would've thought that he was bluffing but he moved to get up from his chair, walking over to the door.

"Wait," you called out before he managed to turn the doorknob, looking over to see him already staring at you with an expectant look on his face. Like he was about five seconds away from telling you to get off the leather chair. "So maybe, there's a slight chance that I didn't just come here just because I was concerned about my tattoo," you muttered almost reluctantly, avoiding looking at him directly.

"And why don't you try telling me why you came here instead?" Suguru stepped away from the door, returning to his spot in the seat next to you. Where you couldn't avoid looking at him even if you wanted to. How would you even begin telling him that he's been clouding your mind since last week just from that three hour interaction? That you've refreshed his Instagram page more times than you could count to see what he'd say about the piece?

You gulped, willing for the words to come out before he got the chance to go back to the door again. But you couldn't. Couldn't bring yourself to the potential humiliation that would inevitably come if you had just been delusional about this all along.

"You here because you want me to fuck you?" And the words that you'd struggled to spit out, he'd just said them so bluntly. You were expecting for him to look at you with that same mocking smile from earlier, but he seemed to be genuinely analyzing you. Waiting. "No, no, of course, I was just here to.." You hadn't quite rehearsed for this part in your mind.

"Because if you were, then I'd say that I was thinking about you too, cutie," and before you had the chance to respond, he was already speaking again, "So I'm just gonna ask you again. Are you here because you want me to fuck you?"

Now that there was little chance of your advances getting rejected, the word slipped out so easily, "Yes."

"Go on and lay back for me. Wanna taste you," and by how quick he was to get on his knees in front of you, you'd guess that he was doing this for his pleasure more than yours. "Lift up your hips," you followed his words without hesitation, letting him slide your jeans off and place them to the side. Large tattooed hands spread your thighs apart, presenting you like a feast to the man before you.

And you would've felt some ounce of embarrassment for the wet spot that quickly built up in the middle of your panties in just the five minutes of being here—if it weren't for the fact that Geto's cock was already straining against the material of his jeans. "Mph, fuck!" Geto quickly pulled your attention back to the issue at hand, his tongue prodding against your clothed cunt. "Not so loud, you don't want Choso to hear us," he clicked his tongue, giving you somewhat of a relief when he pulled away.

A very short lived relief. His tongue traced the outline of your slick folds through the material of your thin panties, his eyes closed. The tip of his tongue swirled against your clit, your cunt leaking out onto your underwear. You'd be lucky at this rate, if you could wear them back home. And almost like he'd read your mind, his fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties before sliding them down to your ankles.

You waited to feel his tongue on your cunt again—but nothing came. You looked over at him, watching as he just observed your weeping pussy. "Thought you were eager to taste," you muttered, a scoff leaving from his lips. A gust of wind blowing to your cunt, your walls clenching all the much more. Eager to receive whatever he could give. "Let me admire for a bit. We got enough time," Suguru let out a small tsk after, his face in front of your cunt. And before you had the chance to say anything more—his tongue was already on your labia.

Your syrupy slick dripped onto his expecting tongue, his eyes almost rolling back at the taste. The small silver ball at the end of his tongue piercing flicked against your folds with every lick, each touch serving to have you clenching around pure air. Your hips bucked up to meet his movements, his large hands holding you down in mere seconds. "What'd I say? Let me enjoy this, pretty girl. Told you we got enough time."

"Such a tease," your grumbled words came out more breathless than you would've liked. "And you're so impatient," he retorted without missing a beat. A hushed whine escaped from your lips when you felt him pull away, his mouth moving to your inner thighs. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin, nibbling down just hard enough for it to leave a mark behind. "Promise I'll take care of you, sweet girl. Have some trust in my abilities."

“You say that but your abilities have been less than stellar lately."

A couple dark locks fell out of place, framing his face almost perfectly. You'd almost expected Suguru to look offended at the implication of your words—but all he did was seem to find some kind of amusement. "Guess I'll have to repair that then," he murmured, more so to your cunt than to you, his tongue prodding in and out of your entrance. "You're not doing a g-Oh fuck!" He immediately made you swallow whatever retort you were planning, his tongue penetrating inside of you.

Suguru swiped his tongue up and down your cunt, the lower half of his face covered in a mixture of your slick and his own spit. Your eyes fluttered shut, the tip of his nose prodding against your clit with every swipe that he made. "Keep looking at me, pretty. Keep those pretty eyes on me," you opened your eyes to see purple eyes already looking back at you, resuming his actions all too greedily. He was so messy when it came to eating you out—spitting into your cunt, watching almost all too eagerly as you clenched around the liquid.

"Please," a whine left your lips, your fingers tugging on his hair. Whatever act of defiance you'd tried to put on earlier had quickly faded away, all you were feeling was need. An almost slutty moan left his lips at the sudden tug, one of his hands grabbing on to yours. "Come on, you can pull harder, can't you?" An even louder groan escaped his lips at the harder tug you gave this time around—the tips of your fingers digging into his scalp. "Now, what were you saying please for?" His words came out muffled, his face buried in between your legs. "Your fingers, please."

"Since you asked so nicely," Suguru took to that almost immediately, two long fingers pushing past the ring of muscle before curling to hit your g-spot. His mouth instantly attached itself to your throbbing clit, pushing through your clitoral hood to get to the bundle of nerves. "F-Fuck, don't stop, don't stop," you sounded like a broken record, your thighs pressing tightly against the sides of his face while his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum," any other thought that you had apart from cumming had been quickly fucked out of you, your grip on his hair tightening even further. Not that Suguru minded by any means, moaning against your cunt with every tug. The vibrations only added to the dual stimulation, your back arching off the chair. Needing to get more. Pushing your hips against his face, bucking up to meet every swipe of his tongue. "Cum for me, princess, come on. You can do it, right?"

All you could do was nod, not wanting to be any louder than you already had been. Part of you had been surprised that Choso hadn't come by knocking earlier. Suguru continued flicking his tongue around your clit, working in synchrony with his fingers to pull your orgasm out of you. "Fuck fuck, gonna cum!" You weren't sure if your muffled moan made it's way into Suguru's ears, watching as he eagerly lapped up your release. Running his tongue across his lips, your slick making them glisten under the lights.

"Get on all fours," Suguru told you after you'd managed to regain your breath, deft fingers working to unzip his jeans. You got on your stomach, resting it against the cold leather while getting on your hands and knees. And if Choso were to come into the room to be quiet now, he'd get a spectacular view of your ass perched up in the air. Suguru ran his cock against your folds, your slick lubricating it with ease after your previous orgasm.

Ridges running down his shaft brushed up against your tight walls, your slick coating his tip like second nature the further that he pushed it in. Your walls clenched and unclenched rapidly in a futile attempt to get used to the pure stretch of his cock. "You can take it, right? This isn't anything," But the sheer girth of his cock was just enough to dispute that statement, the position making him feel much deeper than he was. "Yeah, yeah, I can take it," your voice came out as a mewl, your grip on the leather getting tighter the more he pushed his cock in.

The rhythm that he started up was fairly slow at first, allowing you to get used to the feeling. Whatever he was lacking in length, he certainly compensated for it with the sheer size of his girth. Just a couple inches inside of you and he'd already stuffed you full. "Doin' so good, gonna speed up, okay?" He waited for you to nod, retracting his cock before pushing the full length inside of you with one sharp thrust. Your mouth went agape, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head upon the impact. "So good, so so good," even after a couple thrusts, he already sounded so obsessed.

"That's ittt, that's my girl. Fuck that ass back into me," A strangled groan left his throat at the sight of your ass cheeks jiggling underneath him with every thrust, the two of you moving in tandem. One of the hands that'd been on your waist went to cup whatever he could of the flesh, all too entranced with the vision presented in front of him. "Mm, fuck!" A moan left your lips as you felt the palm of his hand strike against the flesh, your ass stinging from the impact. Not to say that you necessarily hated it, by any means.

And Suguru caught it—the way your slick ran down his shaft at the sudden impact. "Should've fucking guessed you would've liked it," his tone practically dripped in condescension as he spoke, his hand going to cup your other ass cheek. Holding the flesh in his hands before giving you another harsh slap, almost rivaling the harsh smack of his hips against your own. "Shit shit, Geto, don't stop," you whined, pushing your ass back into him. "Think it's okay for you to call me Suguru after bein’ inside you and all."

"Suck," a simple command, two of his fingers in front of your face. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, tasting the remnants of your cum on them before letting it fall flat. Simply sucking on his fingers as his cock pushed in and out of you with such fervor. "Get 'em all nice and wet for me, just like that," Suguru pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth the second you started to get too loud again, tears building up at your waterline when you gagged on them. "Aw, don't cry, cutie. Y'know I had to."

And while his words were meant to be reassuring, the mocking tone of his voice was anything but. Spit dribbled down from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the chair beneath you. "Sugu-Sugu, fuck, right there!" He'd adjusted the angle of his hips, his shaft brushing up against your g-spot with every thrust. "So. Fucking. Tight," each of his words was accentuated with a deep thrust of his hips, filling you up impossibly so. Like he wanted to show you just how much he'd been thinking about it, like he claimed he did.

If the moans coming out of you weren't evidence enough as to what was happening in the room, then you were pretty much certain that the plap! plap! echoing through the walls was evidence enough. Geto's heavy balls smacked against your ass with every harsh thrust of his hips. He brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing at the nub just in time for it to match his pace. You clamped around his cock like a vice, a strangled moan leaving out of his lips. "Just had to tell- shit me that you wanted my cum, ma."

"Mph, cumm- I'm cumm-" Muffled babbles left your mouth, your cunt clenching around him yet again. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, his thrusts getting sloppier and faster. Whatever small bits of concern about being too loud had been disregarded—loud squelches and skin clapping filling up the room as Suguru rutted inside of you. You turned your head to look over at him, the sight before you almost like something out of a painting. His hair had completely been released from the half-bun, cascading down his back perfectly and his eyes were closed in pure bliss.

Spurts and spurts of cum shot deep inside of you, his cock twitching as you milked him for whatever he could offer. Suguru pulled his softening cock out of your cunt, his cum starting to dribble out of you and down your thighs. With the same fingers he'd had inside your mouth, he pushed his cum back inside of you. Scooping the substance up with relative ease. Your body slumped against the chair, willing that Geto would give you a couple seconds to catch your breath.

You'd expected him to grab a wipe or a paper towel to clean you up with, but he simply got up from his spot behind you. Grabbing his pants off the floor and fastening up his fly. You looked over at him through half lidded eyes, seeing him pop the fingers that had previously been in your cunt into his mouth. Slurping at them in a similar fashion that you'd done just a couple minutes prior. "Wanna taste yourself, pretty girl? 'S so fucking good."

Geto didn't give you a chance to respond before he was leaning down to your level, one of his fingers underneath your chin to raise your head. He leaned in, his lips pressing against yours in a messy exchange. More of spit getting intertwined than an actual kiss, not that you minded in your state. His tongue flicked against yours, the bittersweet taste of both you and him combined filling your tastebuds. Geto pulled away after a couple seconds, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

You hadn't even finished putting on your pants yet when Suguru spoke up yet again,

"You mind giving me a five star review when you get home?"

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird and a Menace of Bats - Part 17

masterpost

“We could always look up where he lives,” Tim suggested.

Bruce gave his son a tired look, turning slowly that he was sure not to jostle the sleeping man on his shoulder. “No, we can’t.”

“Sure you can. WE has to have it on file.”

“That would be a gross misuse of my postilion and an invasion of privacy,” Bruce said. “As in something Danny could very well sue for as us taking him home has nothing to do with his work and why we would have his address on file.”

“What about his driver’s license?” Duke suggested.

“He doesn’t have one, or at least not on him,” Dick said. He had Danny’s jacket pulled open and was carefully feeling inside for pockets.

Next to him, Jason was going through the card pocket on the back of Danny’s cellphone case.

“He does have a rewards card for Lacey’s though, so good taste there.”

Bruce rubbed tiredly at his face. “Dick, stop looking for a wallet. Jason, put all the cards back where you found them, please, and no hacking the phone.”

“You’re no fun anymore,” Jason said in a mocking whine.

Stephanie stifled a snicker.

“Stephanie, stop stalking him on social media and Babara, stop using what she’s found to try and triangulate where he is from,” Bruce said.

“Jason’s right,” Stephanie said as she slumped dramatically back into the seat, “you’re no fun anymore.”

“Yes, how boring of me,” Bruce drawled, “not invading the privacy of a man so unwell that he fell asleep in a noisy limo full of near strangers.”

Cass leaned forward at that.

Bruce quickly shifted gears to try and reassure her. “He’ll be alright, Cass.”

“Breathing is shallow. Heart?”

Bruce nodded. “He said there was an accident when he was a child that affected his heart and pulse. It was very slow and weak early after he stood up from his seat and had to sit back down. But he also said that it wasn’t unexpected and that he’s been to his doctor recently.”

“He did take this week off.”

“Tim.”

“What?” Tim said defensively. “He befriended my sister, I had to check him out.”

At least that was a reasonable excuse in case Danny was hearing any of this.

“If he’s doing badly, he shouldn’t be home alone, right?” Stephanie asked far too innocently.

“Not that we even know where he lives without waking him. Shouldn’t we let him rest?” Tim added.

“I shall start to the Manor then,” Alfred said, bringing an abrupt end to the discussion so suddenly that was that.

For what felt like the millionth time that night, Bruce sighed heavily.

-

It rather said something about the family that they were both efficient and graceful in getting an unconscious body out of the car. Bruce, with Dick’s help, passed Danny to Jason who held him out of the way as the rest of the family climbed out. Bruce was surprised to have Danny passed to him the moment Jason was able, but Bruce was quickly distracted.

“Right?” Jason asked.

“Hn.”

“Hn? Hn what?” Steph asked, popping up at Bruce’s elbow.

“The guy’s too light,” Jason answered. “It’s like he’s got bird bones.”

Tim stifled a snicker. Bruce, once again, sighed.

“Tim, take Steph and go help Alfred make sure the room is ready,” Bruce instructed. “Dick, help wrangle. Cass, darling, go rest. Jason, manage the doors for me, please.”

There was a coarse of agreement and the children were off. Bruce and Jason followed more sedately to be gentle on Bruce’s sleeping cargo.

“Jokes aside, he’s too light,” Jason said, keeping his quiet words between them. “This might be more than just a weak pulse.”

What Jason didn’t say is that they knew it was more than just a weak pulse—or at least it had been that night. It was concerning to think what lingering effects the transformation might be having on Danny. Especially concerning because…

“Cass is already attached,” Jason said, as if finishing Bruce’s own thoughts.

“I know.”

“And now the others are curious. Well, more curious.”

“I don’t suppose I could pay you to keep them in line?”

Jason snorted. “Even you couldn’t afford that, old man.”

“I was afraid not,” Bruce said as he fought back a smile.

Despite Jason’s refusal, Bruce knew that his son would keep his eyes others. Jason wouldn’t likely stop them, but he would keep an eye on them. Danny was still enough of an unknown that Bruce couldn’t help but be wary of the man’s presence in the middle of the family.

At least the guest wing was on the other side of the Manor from the family wing. The spaced eased the anxiety, a little. Alfred was just finishing shoeing Stephanie and Tim from the guest room as they approached and Jason peeled off to take his leave with them. Bruce entered the room with Danny on his own.

And apparently it was going to stay that way as Alfred said, “I trust you to see our guest settled,” and closed the door.

Bruce resisted the urge to sigh one more time.

At least Alfred had already folded down the sheets.

Bruce laid Danny down and started with the dress shoes, mostly to delay having to decide just how much clothing was appropriate to strip a near stranger of. After all, Danny didn’t know that he had slept curled up with the whole family once before. Bruce was also aware that he had less propriety than most people, given his unusual night life.

By the time the shoes were off and set aside, Bruce decided that the bare minimum would likely be most comfortable for Danny in the morning. The tie and belt went onto the seat of the nearby arm chair while the suit jacket was draped over the back. Danny’s phone was set on the nightstand. Alfred, of course, already had clothing set out for Danny to change into in the morning, should he wish. Bruce left it at that and covered Danny lightly with the sheets before he took his leave.

[vrystalius]

Would be willing to do like ,, Rengoku x reader that takes care of Senjuro while he’s away on missions ? Rengoku deserves some love but so does his little brother <333

Visiting the smallest Rengoku.

You had nothing to do with Kyojuro being away on an important mission, so you decided to visit his younger brother.

Pairing: Kyojuro x reader, platonic/familial Senjuro x reader

(A little angsty by the end)

Your husband has been away for a couple days now. You prepared a large pot for miso soup and some sweet potatoes for your husband to enjoy when he returns from his long mission. After finishing your chores, you decided to pay Senjuro a visit and to help him out a little. You knew that he’s working hard to keep everything together in his family home with Shinjuro doing nothing but cause a mess and drink all day every day, leaving the youngest Rengoku family member to take care of himself and his drunkard father.

You always pitied Senjuro for needing to grow up so fast and barely experiencing childhood. His mother died too early in his life, meaning he barely remembers her. But you also know how much your husband Kyojuro dotes on his little brother and wishes for him to be nothing but happy. Sometimes, you two thought about moving Senjuro to your house, away from Shinjuro and the verbal abuse.

You made sure to prepare Senjuro a small home cooked meal before heading out. You weren’t sure what his favourite food was, so you went with something Kyojuro would’ve liked: sweet potatoes with some rice and fried vegetables and some Mochi you bought from a vendor on your way to the residence. You were sure Senjuro’ll appreciate some home-cooked food! He hasn’t been cooked for in a while.

Upon your arrival, you sound hin sweeping the porch, removing the yellow and orange coloured and dried leaves.

“The leaves match your hair, Senjuro!”

Hearing your voice call out to him so suddenly made him flinch and stiffen up, but his shoulders visibly relaxed after spotting you. Senjuro smiled shyly and waved.

“My brother isn’t here if that’s why you came to visit. He still should be on a mission.”

You knew that Kyojuro’s little brother still has to get used to you being around and marrying his older brother, but you also heard from him that Senjuro really admires you. You haven’t interacted a lot, but everytime you did, his eyes would sparkle in fascination. He always asked you about what you do and how it is to live with his older brother. He is also very curious about your cooking and even mustered courage (he received a lot of pep-talking from your husband) to ask for some of your recipes!

After setting down for lunch and presenting your home-cooked meal to him, Senjuro thanked you with a bright smile. He really missed getting cooked meals that aren’t prepared by himself. You insisted on cooking for him and Shinjuro, preparing more lunch and dinner. That way, Senjuro doesn’t have to cook anything today and maybe even tomorrow. He was extremely grateful and tried to help you out as much as possible, feeling a little guilty for you cooking, even though you are supposed to be a guest. He watched you cook over your shoulder, tip-toeing to try and get a better view.

“Can you teach me that recipe? It looks very tasty.”

He’s extremely fascinated by your whole being. You’re so kind, so talented and beautiful, no wonder why his brother married you. Senjuro is extremely glad to have you as a sister-in-law.

After the meal, you suggested to play a round of Shogi with him. You knew that Shinjuro barely ever leaves his bedroom, meaning Senjuro has no one to play or talk with. That poor boy was forced to grow up to fast and never got to enjoy his childhood, so you wanted to help him be a child again. Even if for a little while. You two sat on the porch during the game. He was extremely happy during the whole match, ranting about his older brother and papa the whole time.

“One time, my brother was teaching how to use the fire breathing technique, and I saw flames sparking out of my sword! It was small, but Kyojuro was so proud of me! We went to town and got a bowl of ramen together. Our father scolded us for coming home so late…”

Senjuro’s eyes were sparkling and a big smile was plastered on his face while moving his pieces. In the end, you let him win to make him just a little happier. But just as he was about to celebrate, Kyojuro’s crow quietly flew above the residence, landing right beside you two. It was quiet for a couple moments before finally announcing what he came here for.

“The flame pillar! The flame pillar fought Upper Moon Three! Upper Moon Three!”

Silence draped over you three as all of you and Senjuro both knew what was the crow was about to announce next. You glanced over at the youngest of the Rengoku’s.

His hands were tightly gripping his hakama pants as his gaze was fixated on the shogi pieces. Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes.

You knew your husband won’t be coming back for the miso soup and sweet potatoes you left at home for him.

💠

I am going to sob during Akaza’s backstory reveal and death, but I probably sobbed more over Kyojuro’s. Senjuro doesn’t deserve anything that happened to him and I’m so glad Shinjuro changed for the better in the end!!. Thank you for requesting this and sorry for the wait!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[squinch-depraved]

I was watching a chuckle sammy episode today and there was a part where Schlatt said he would hire a hot secretary just to keep him company. I'd love a story about that if you're willing.

The episode is the zodiac one the part I'm referring to is exactly 1 hour in.

this is reallllly yummy i hope i did it justice for you

it was supposed to be just a joke. just a bit for the podcast, a few sentences about hiring an attractive secretary and nothing more. but they stuck in schlatt's mind and hung heavy over him for the rest of that night. he really was lonely. and ted had a point, hiring someone to just be around (and look pretty) was looking like a better and better idea every second. so he finished off his bottle of benedictine, not that there was much left, and tossed it to the side, stretching out further on the couch while he pulled out his phone and set to work searching for an assistant.

it wasn't long before ted heard about his search, and the two men bantered in a call for a few minutes about it before the older of the two stopped his jokes to suggest, "no, but for real though, i have a friend who just moved back to new york, you might remember her, she was on the set for this past chuckle week helping in the background. y/n?"

schlatt's pupils dilated and he took in a breath. "yeah, i remember her," he replied coolly. "thought she was in school though?" he played with something on his desk.

ted lit up. "yeah, she's studying, but i'm sure she'd be willing to work something out with you." his voice was laced with knowing. he had seen the way schlatt sized you up the first time he laid eyes on you, the way he could never meet your gaze and how he always looked to you first when he made a joke. "i'll send you her info, you should reach out, man. she'll be happy to hear from you."

that last line was the only reason schlatt did it. he cursed himself for letting ted convince him now that you were here in front of him. you had been invited to a coffee shop to discuss the job details, and when you finally showed up, he looked incredibly uncomfortable sitting at a small table. but you sat down in front of him, smiling up at him and pushing your glasses up on your nose.

"hi schlatt!" you greeted him, reaching out to shake his hand. he gripped you a bit too hard and grimaced when you made a small noise, shaking your hand out when he let go. "thank you so much for the opportunity, i was really worried i wouldn't be able to find a good job for a while with my school going on and everything."

he nodded hastily and pushed a pastry he ordered for you towards you on the table. you smiled and yanked it towards you, beginning to eat as he spoke. "basically, i just need you to get any random tasks i need done, done. just, paperwork, if there ever is any, usually it's all digital, uhh, anything that slips through the cracks. i just need someone to be there and make sure my shit is taken care of."

you raised a brow. "sounds like you need more than an assistant," you responded with a smirk. his face reddened and he looked away, trying to shove down the thoughts of why you were really here. you were making a joke, but it wasn't funny to him. not when you didn't know you were right.

"shit, i'm sorry schlatt, i didn't mean to insult you-"

"'s fine. not insulted. i need you in the office whenever i'm there, sometimes i get work done at my apartment, so here's a key to both. feel free to get your own shit done whenever you're working unless i need you doing something. pay's fifty an hour. can you start today?" he slaps two keys down onto the table as well as two addresses written down on a half-crumpled napkin. you stare up at him in shock before snatching the keys and paper.

"fifty bucks an hour???" you whisper-screamed at him before the startled look on his face pulled you back into reality. "what about this job is worth paying me that much? i'm accepting it, no takesies backsies, but why so much, schlatt?" you tilted your head at him as you asked.

he scrambled for an answer to your question that wasn't "i want to spoil you until you can't think of anything else in the world you want," but when he opened his mouth to talk, nothing came out. you sighed and answered his previous question instead.

"yeah, i can start today. let's go ahead and get to work, boss," you said, standing up and collecting all your school stuff you brought in with you. "take me somewhere i can dump my stuff!"

weeks passed, you fell into rhythm with his fucked up schedule easily, quickly learning when to fetch him more caffeine and when to take away his alcohol. you kept him organized, boosting his productivity and helping him with almost anything he needed. you learned a few days in the fifty an hour was for no good reason other than maybe ted had told him you were struggling to pay for school (he hadn't) because most of your job was sitting at another desk, sometimes in the same room, sometimes separated by walls, parallel playing with schlatt as he filmed or streamed or edited or did whatever he needed to do while you worked on schoolwork or a fun hobby you were into. you were being paid to do minimal office work, study and relax, and best of all, care for your hot boss. he loved when you called him that, boss, it always made his cock twitch and his brain flood with thoughts of you under him.

the worst part of the job was how attracted you were to him. it made doting on him inevitable when your whole source of income was reliant on you making sure he was "taken care of." he noticed you acting more lovingly for the first time when you brought a water bottle to his desk while he was editing and massaged the back of his shoulders before mumbling, "you need to take a break and stretch soon," and leaving the room. he was stunned, skin burning under his sweater where you touched him. secretaries don't do that. he quickly opened up his messages with ted and began typing.

"dude. i fucked up. shouldn't have hired y/n. help." every sentence was a different message. moment later, ted eased the pounding of schlatt's heart a bit by replying.

"what happened??"

schlatt typed quickly. "she massaged my shoulders idk man i can't think around her"

"oh dear heavens, the damn harlot massaged you?"

schlatt didn't dignify that with a response. a few moment later, ted typed again.

"she's really into you dude, you should go for it. i promise she's not the type to sue you if it doesn't work out"

his main fear erased, he closed the chat and got off the computer, heading to find you in his apartment kitchen, going over the schedule for the days to come. music played from a speaker on the counter, and you paused it when you saw him come out.

"sorry, was it too loud?" you asked, looking up at him.

"nah," he shook his head. "you've been workin' for me for a few months now, y/n," he began.

you started shaking your head, backing up into his fridge. "schlatt, please, no, i need this job," you started to babble.

"shhh, nonono, not that at all, doll," he assured you, gliding across the floor to caress your cheek. the pet name made your stomach turn as you let him cup your face. "was gonna say somethin' else."

"what is it, then, boss?" you batted your lashes at him. he inhaled sharply and kissed you, absorbing the high pitched moan you let out. when he pulled away, you flicked your eyes down from his to his mouth and back up to meet his gaze before pulling him back in.

he tasted like whiskey, and he growled against your neck when you slid your hands under his shirt. "hired you just to keep me company but i can't keep my hands off you, doll." the nickname made you nervous for the second time that night.

"then don't keep 'em off me," you panted, puling your shirt off over your head and adjusting your skewed glasses. he drinks you in, inhaling the scent of your perfume (that you recently had to buy another of because he stole your first bottle to smell while he pumped his thick cock in his hand whenever you were gone). after a moment, he peeled your leggings off and picked you up, setting you down on the counter before he kneeled between your legs and looked up at you for permission to begin tasting you. you nodded, running your fingers through his brown curls while he started to lick and kiss at your cunt. much to his enjoyment, you didn't hold back your noises, letting your moans and cries bounce off the echoey walls of his apartment.

he slid a finger in you as he sang praises about how good you tasted for him, working his way up to two, and eventually three. you were crooning about how amazing he felt, knotting your fingers deeper into his hair and pulling it when you felt your high getting close, which made him moan directly onto your clit. you clenched your thighs around his head and ground down onto his face as he drew an orgasm from you.

once his face was thoroughly soaked with your juices, he pulled away and came up to kiss you for a bit before pulling you off the counter and spinning you around.

"i promise i'll fuck you properly, in a bed, next time, i just gotta have you now, toots." he bent you over the counter and slid his pants down, stroking his length a few times before slowly pushing into you. you both moaned, adjusting to each other, and he started thrusting, gripping your hips fiercely as you shrieked and adjusted your glasses again, to no avail because you were being shaken and throttled like a toy.

"god, you're so good!!" you screeched, moaning further when he smacked your ass in response.

"fuck, you look so cute, bent over on my counter like that, lettin' me use you like the good little assistant you are," he snarled. you let out a guttural whine at how hot he sounded. "you're so good at assisting me, baby."

your knees began to buckle and he grabbed you tighter to help hold you up.

"almost there, toots, c'mon. doin' so good."

you cried out one more time and his pace quickened, growing unsteady as he got closer to finishing. he thrust forcefully a few more times before pulling out to come all over your back and ass.

quiet settled over the kitchen as you both panted, and you heard him quietly snap a picture of you with his seed all over you before he grabbed a paper towel and began to clean you up.

"sorry," he mumbled.

you shook you head and turned around to kiss him. "can i stay the night?" you asked him.

he nodded, relieved, and slipped his pants back on.

"can i get paid for it?" you looked at him with a sly expression, glasses smudged.

he laughed. "absolutely."

[alastwhorez]

may i request something where reader watches alastor undress. him slowly taking off his coat… sliding off the straps of his suspenders… rolling his sleeves up to his elbows…

Talking Body

♡ Pairing: Human!Alastor x Afab!Reader

♡ summary: Alastor has been neglecting you lately, so he decides to give you a show.

♡ warnings: 18+, MDNI, stripping, needy reader, neglected reader, masturbation, voyeurism, bodily fluids, Alastor is a tease, pet names. I think that is everything.

♡ an: Thank you so much for the request. I hope you enjoy! Not proofread, possible spelling errors

The day was long and boring. Being a stay at home wife you tend to run out of things to do by the end of the week. All the chores were finished and dinner was in the oven.

You were glad it was finally time for your husband to get home. You've missed him dearly. He has been working late hours at the radio station the past several weeks. Not returning home till late in the night, long after you have finally gone to sleep. This morning however Alastor had promised you he would be home on time. Telling you he had a surprise for you.

Since your husband has been working late he has started to neglect you intimately. Alastor was never one for physical contact but he always made sure you were taken care of.

You checked the clock and saw you still had about an hour before he should return Home and another twenty minutes for the food to cook. You decided it was a perfect time to take care of the ache between your legs.

You spread out on the couch, hiked your dress up over your hips and pulled the top down to expose your tits. Your hand trailed down your body till you found your Clothed cunt. You push your panties to the side and rub your finger up and down before finding your bundle of nerves. After a few minutes you slip a finger inside and start pumping.

You whine because it's not as good as Alastors cock, doesn't stretch you the same way. You speed up fingers trying to find release when the door slams Open.

Alastor is standing in the doorway with flowers and a shocked look on his face when his eyes land on you. You gasp and stop moving.

“My my my, what is my lovely wife doing?” He says smirking in a teasing tone.

Your mouth hangs open not knowing how to respond. “Couldn't wait for your dear old husband to come home? Tsk tsk tsk” He shakes his head back and forth. “Just what am I going to do with you darlin'?”

He shuts the door with his foot as he walks into the living room, playing the flowers on the coffee table. He grabs your hand and takes you to your shared bedroom.

He pushes you down gently to sit on the bed as he grabs a chair and places it in front of you in the middle of the room. He sits down and spreads his legs wide.

“I suppose I have been neglectful these past few weeks, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to touch yourself.”

You whine in embarrassment

“Now you're going to be a good girl and sit there and behave yourself. Bad girls don't get rewarded.”

You nod your head as you bite your lip

“You're going to keep those pretty eyes on me and you aren't going to move a muscle. Understand love?

You nod again and he whispers good girl.

You watch as Alastor takes off his jacket and hat, sitting them beside you on the bed, then you watch as he loosens his bowtie, pulling the fabric and twisting his head back and forth. Next he unbuttons the sleeve of his shirt and slowly starts to roll the right sleeve, exporting his toned, tanned arms, next me moves to the left side rolling even slower.

His eyes stay on you the whole time, a slight smirk on his face when you fidget on the bed and play with your fingers.

He spreads his legs further apart as he trails his hand slowly down his body stopping at his belt, he tilts his head to the side when your breath hitches. Laughing he slowly undoes the buckles and makes a shower of pulling the leather out of his lands. He folds it up and sits it beside you.

He runs his hand back up his chest and stops at his bowtie. He removes it, throwing it towards you. He fists his suspenders before slowly sliding them off his shoulders and removing them completely. His hand then lands on the first button of his shirt. He slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time.

Your legs are rubbing together at this point and you're fisting the sheets on the bed. Alastor is smirking at you as he continues to agonizingly Slow undoing his shirt. When He finishes he lets it hang open and you have to hold back a groan from how delicious he looks.

He slowly lets the fabric fall down his shoulders then His arms, letting it hit the floor. He leans back in the chair and stretches. You watch as his Muscles Flex as he moves. He raises an eyebrow at you as you rub your legs together harder.

His hands run back down his chest and stop at his pants. He lifts his hips up slowly then sits back down. He unbuttons them and slowly slides the zipper down. His eyes are trained on you as he pushes them down his hips then down his legs. He folds them and sits them on the bed then he removes his socks next.

He's left in nothing but his boxers and you moan at the sight. He chuckles as your flushed face. You've hiked your dress back up because of your fisting the fabric. You can see the outline Of his cock and a wet spot forming on his boxers. He lifts his hips and slowly slides them down,leaving them forgotten on the floor.

You suck in a breath at his naked figure. His cock stands tall, leaking. He notices you biting your lip and decides to tease you some more. He wants to see how long you can control yourself.

He fists his cock, giving it a squeeze before lazily stroking it.

“Alastor” you say breathlessly and be chuckles

“What darlin'? I said good girls get rewarded and you've been a bad girl. Touching yourself While I'm Gone”

You whine

You can see the tip glisten from how much he is leaking. it's spilling over onto his fist acting as lubrication. He speeds up his first and moans your name as he throws his head back. While he isn't looking you lean back and spread your legs, pulling your panties down.

When Alastor looks back at you he is met with your cunt on full display and his breath hitches. You suck a finger into your mouth before it finds your bundle of nerves And you start rubbing. You throw your head back and moan, back arching.

He says your Name more stern this time and you moan out his name “Oh Alastor, faster”

He groans and his fist Matches the speed of your finger. Your other hand comes down and you slip a finger in then two. He cups his balls as he watches you matching your pace.

You're both moaning and growing, trying to outlast the other.

“fuck” He curses. Something he hardly ever does. “Look at you. All spread out and giving me a show. So pretty baby, prettiest I've ever seen ya.”

“Alastor! Yes, just like that” you scream as you add a third finger and speed up your pumping.

Alastor grits his teeth feeling his release coming. Your back arches as you feel yours.

“Squeezing me so well baby, pussy was made for me”

You moan feeling that familiar heat flood your senses. You scream his name as you cum all over your fingers.

Alastor moans your name, his eyes rolling back as he shoots his load all over his first. The sight of you pushing him over the edge.

You both sit there for a moment catching your breath. Alastor gets up out of the chair and crawls on top of you.

“That Was a good show darlin’ but how ‘bout I give you the real thing?”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hurt//comfort with hero or villain tending to the other person’s wounds please….. tyty..

"I..." The villain felt their hands shake. How on earth were they supposed to handle this? Them being here in the hero's house was already too much contact, too much of a mistake. The villain was a mess, that much they could admit.

But was it because they had failed to do their job? Or because the damage they had caused was (inexplicably) too much for them to fall asleep to at night peacefully?

"Hm," the hero said. They closed their eyes. Jogging pants and a simple shirt had exchanged the fancy clothes from yesterday's evening and they sat on their couch, messy hair falling into their eyes. "Here to finish the job?"

The villain didn't find the right words. To be more precise, they didn't find any words at all.

In the back of their mind, the villain laughed at themselves for missing, but another part of them cursed themselves for picking up the gun in the first place.

It had been a simple order. To kill a target.

Killing people for money was merely work for the villain, nothing more. They had never had any ill feelings towards their victims, had never questioned what they were doing. It was as simple as it could get: a simple request, a simple answer, a simple amount of money. But when it had been clear to them that it was the hero, the person who got in their way regularly, they had felt worse than ever.

Although yesterday was already somewhat of a blur, they could remember the horrible feeling in their gut when they had seen the hero at the party through the spotting scope.

Their enemy was highly skilled and the villain had felt like a coward. Like someone who stabbed them from behind. The hero deserved a good and fair fight, not this.

Once the hero had been alone on the balcony, looking over all the other buildings, the villain had made up their mind. Their enemy had looked calm. Peaceful even. They had placed the glass of alcohol on a table nearby. They had leaned against the metallic bannister of the balcony and had stared into the villain's direction, almost as if they could sense them.

They could remember the way the hero's hair had moved in the wind. How tired they had looked, how the fresh air had cooled down the blush on their face.

So, for better or for worse, the villain had taken in a deep breath, aimed at their target and…missed the hero's head.

They had shot their shoulder instead. Had watched the hero's surprise, the quiet gasp, had watched as they had fallen to their knees, had looked around. Confused. Panicked. Desperate.

And the villain had stayed there on the rooftop, hadn't dared to move.

The hero had stood up, gone inside as quickly as possible, had grabbed their jacket and excused themselves. They had left the party without anyone noticing they had been injured and no one - the villain assumed - had gone after them to check if everything was alright.

The villain supposed the hero was good when it came to lying, when it came to excuses.

Now, the villain stared at them. Why were they here? Why hadn't they done their job?

It had been a clear shot. One entry wound, one exit wound. Not deadly. But very, very nasty. Why had they missed on purpose?

"You're bleeding," the villain said quietly. The hero's eyes followed the villain's gaze and together, they stared at the hero's shirt which slowly started to get drenched in blood.

The hero sighed.

"Shit. That's my third shirt this morning. Do you know how difficult it is to get blood stains out of clothes?"

"I...I am aware, yes." The villain didn't know what to do with their hands, they didn't know where to move, what to say. They had never been this stunned, this incompetent. But the hero acted instead of them. They headed for the bathroom and the villain followed like a dog without any hesitation.

"Thank you for missing, by the way," the hero said. They took off their shirt while they were walking and the villain did not miss how much they struggled with their injured shoulder. The villain wanted to touch them, wanted to help but in the last second, they withdrew their hand and the hero didn't even notice the villain's intentions.

"I'm a lousy shot," the villain said.

"Everyone knows that's bullshit." The hero came to a stop in the bathroom and the villain nearly bumped into them when they set a foot in the room.

The room looked like a scene from a horror movie. Blood was everywhere, bandages were everywhere. Pills were scattered on the ground, bloody clothes were hanging over the sink, the toilet, the bathtub.

"Excuse the mess, will you?" The hero crouched to pick up the green first aid kit.

And the villain didn't know their body was capable of those feelings. With their heartbeat in their throat and their heart sending waves of pain into their chest, the villain feared for a moment that they had gotten horribly sick in the last few hours. Judging by the dark circles under the hero's eyes, they had spent most of the remaining night here in the bathroom, trying to fix two wounds. One of which they could barely reach.

"Sit down." The villain managed to keep their voice steady. They swallowed, tasted bile. They were...angry?

"Just give me sec-" Not at the hero, though.

"No. Sit down. Right here, right now," the villain ordered. They put their hand on the hero's healthy shoulder and pushed them down until there was no protest. Once that was done, the villain kneeled behind them, put a flat hand on the hero's naked back and observed the doings of their bullet.

The wound on the hero's back was barely treated - it had been bleeding long before the villain had noticed the bleeding on the other side. Dark reds, fleshy pinks and sickly blues mixed together and created a gruesome painting the villain had seen too many times before but could barely handle now.

"You need to see a doctor," the villain decided.

"Pff, I'm fi-" The villain put minimal pressure on the red and purple bruises around the wound and the hero gasped hard enough for the villain to fear they would throw up any second.

"I can't tell how much your shoulder blade is damaged. If the bone splintered..."

"I'm fine," the hero said.

"I can stitch the wounds but that's all, you need to see a doctor nonetheless."

"I have never needed a doctor."

"I am not asking nicely," the villain said and this time, their voice cracked. The hero turned their head to look at them but the villain's attention was on the wound.

Or maybe they were too afraid to look at them.

"Honestly, I am not a resentful person, but let's not forget who did this in the first place."

The villain leaned back a little, the words stuck in the back of their throat.

"I'm..." They couldn't, they simply couldn't say it. They started to whisper. "It's just a job."

"Just a job," the hero sneered. They grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it into the open wound they could reach. Without another word, they grabbed the needle, cleaned it and gave it to the villain, along with some thread. "...like I said. I'm not resentful."

The villain got to work and pierced into the hero's skin. They could hear the hisses, the weak laughs to overshadow the pain. It wasn't pretty - soon enough the hero’s blood was running down the villain's fingertips but they did (somehow) manage to fabricate some decent stitches.

"...you don't have to say it. I forgive you either way," the hero said through gritted teeth. "And it doesn't matter anyway. You're...you are here now."

Once the villain was done, the hero turned around and the villain, for the love of them, couldn't look the hero in the eyes.

"But it was an order, wasn't it? You didn't just decide to shoot me."

The villain cleaned the needle and started again. This time, however, they could see the hero's grimaces, not only the pain in spasming muscles but also the pain in their eyes, the exhaustion between their words. And that made it more difficult.

The villain wanted to touch them, to comfort them. But they couldn’t, just like they couldn’t apologise to them.

There was something wrong with them, something broken within them. What kind of person couldn’t whisper a simple apology?

"Yes, it was," the villain said. Their hands were still shaking a bit.

"I was pretty drunk when it happened," the hero admitted. "And my adrenaline was kicking in immediately. At first, I barely noticed. Once I was home, I was crying instead of screaming. Didn't wanna wake up the neighbors. I honestly thought this was it."

The villain didn't answer. Their heart was heavy enough and even though the hero didn't consider themselves resentful, forgiveness was still arduous to ask for and even harder to deserve.

"Please," the villain said. "Please, just hate me. It would make this a lot easier for me."

"I'm not here to make it easier for you," the hero said and with that, the villain finished the stitches and felt even worse than before. They supposed they deserved it, but whatever peace of mind they had longed for, the hero didn't give it to them.

Instead, they gave the villain undeserved compassion, horrible understanding and infuriating kindness. It was enough torture for the villain already.

[suzukiblu]

Man, does Clark panic adopting not count as kon-napping(+ match-napping)?

Oh well, I suppose I won't request anything for WIP Wednesday. Have fun with everyone's prompts. :]

-MBT

I mean it definitely does imo, but I ruled out a bunch of WIP options that technically count as Kon-napping for one reason or another, 'cuz keeping the list to five options is just way easier for me. Keeping open five documents to jump around is just way kinder on the ol' laptop, y'know? Though for you, fren, since you have been an excellent source of inspo/motivation in the past, I will totally give you some panic-adoption I already had written and just hadn't posted yet, lol. 💛

(( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I didn’t call ahead, so–oh, damn, how did I forget to call, it’s practically lunchtime,” Superman mutters under his own breath. Match stares blankly at him. So does Thirteen, but Match can’t even bring himself to be irritated about it, because it’s the only possible logical reaction to be having right now. Or just ever, possibly, in regards to Superman. 

“Uh,” Thirteen says, shifting uncomfortably in the air and still half-behind Match, annoyingly but unsurprisingly. “Like, we could just . . . do this some other time, maybe, we don’t need to, y’know . . . bug ‘em or whatever. Like, we don’t need to do, uh . . . whatever you’re doing all at once.” 

Superman once again gets that strange look that Match would call “pained” on anyone else’s face, then just–sighs, and shakes his head. 

“I should’ve done it already,” Superman says, his voice just barely tight. “For both of you.” 

“I mean–we literally don’t even know what you are doing, man,” Thirteen says, looking frustrated and uncertain. “Like, you said you didn’t want us to go back to Cadmus or the Agenda but like, then you said we should go home even though we were already at the Fortress, and then you brought us all the way out here to your–to, uh–you know, and–” 

“To my parents’ house,” Superman says. 

. . . Match actually should just take Thirteen and go to Cadmus right now. Superman is clearly an irresponsible idiot of an owner, if he’s going to keep telling him these things. 

Really, the only thing Superman’s done so far as his owner is steal him and also dress him up in a little outfit, from a certain point of view, Match realizes, and tries not to grimace at the thought of being, effectively, another damn dog. 

Which–he is that, more or less. Obviously. He’s–a possession. A weapon. A thing. Not–

Just–the same treatment as the dog, short of getting his damn ears scratched. 

It’s . . . 

Are you fucking STUPID? he wants to ask instead of finishing that thought, but that wouldn’t be any smarter–or safer–to do. 

“Uh,” Thirteen says, and swallows uncomfortably. “Uh–yeah. That.”

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Logan trying to comfort Kurt's guilt.

It's a full moon. For the others, it's a pretty normal night. This isn't to say that they don't give it a second thought, or a tenth, but Kurt takes it upon himslef to find out the names of every single person that dosn't make it during their missions.

While most, Like Logan, would rather forget, Kurt had another job to do. It's his duty to make sure these lost and scared souls find heaven.

Walking up to the nearest church, Logan grunts, already halfway through his bottle since they've returned. He hears whispering. Small prayers that he's heard all before whether when muttered on the field or heard through the walls, his rosery intertwined between his 6 fingers, gripping it as if someone would rip it from him.

"I thought you'd be here.." he mutters.

Kurt doesn't answer him. But there he is, on his knees in front of a statue of Mary, tears soaking the fur on his face, hands together. The way the moonlight is coming in, it hits him in a way that makes him look ethereal. Like a blessing from above from the man himself. If only Logan believed in that kind of thing.

It was so ironic that someone so innocent, pure, and beautiful actively visited hell. Perhaps this was why. For he's seen what goes on and has chosen that he's seen enough.

Letting out a big sigh, He comes to crouch next to him, taking a swig of his bottle as he picks up the list. He wants to crumble it up or perhaps shred it, the handwritten swoopy german being nothing but a reminder of how much he failed too. Hero's weren't supposed to let people get hurt. Especially not almost a dozen.. 11 lives ruined. 11 loved ones ripped from their families grasp. And all because they weren't good enough.

Finishing his whispers, he goes to grab the page but Logan had already picked it up. Kurt looks at him with those big black hole eyes of his, almost begging him not to ruin his list, but he dosn't grab for it. He lets his friend look over it only to shove his head back again, drinking for a few seconds think.

"...Emily Stripe..." He read, shifting to actually sit his ass on the concrete step, grunting as he let his arms hang over his knees. "Jessica Stripe...Are they sisters?" He asks the praying man, begging for forgiveness and to help serve these innocent souls towards the stairs and the gates.

More tears fall down his face each couple of words. In the end, he bows his head and doesn't bother looking at him, his eyes glistening in the light. "They were..."

Logan offers him the bottle, and without hesitation, he takes it, starting to chug a quarter of it. "Woah woah! Elfs can't handle that much, ya'know!" He says, and Kurt mumbles something along the lines that he's German, alchool is in his viens from birth.

Taking the bottle back, He shakes it around, Giving a playful glare now it was almost gone. Putting it to the side, he wraps an arm over his shoulder, Kurt's tail wrapping around his waist as well. For a bit, they were just two guys, silently mourning the casualties of what it was like to have constant city villans at hand.

"...It ain't your fault, Fuzzball... or should I say buzzball. You okay there, Mr. Blue?"

"I.....I was so sure I could have saved them.."

"Not your fault, Bub."

"..But what if it is..? If I was just.. a bit better.. I could have saved them."

"Yeah... well, if it's your fault, it's mine too."

Kurt lays his head on his shoulder, wiping his face on his arm. Logan doesn't actually mind, but he knows he wants to play. "Augh! Did you just wipe snot on me!?"

Kurt smiles softly and says something Logan doesn't recognize.

It could be a million things, but deep down, he has a feeling of what it might be.

"Yeah, yeah.. whatever." Pulling him close he headlocks him to his chest and rubs his fist over his head, making Kurt whine and squirm. "Ah! Nein!"

"That's what you get for rubbing snot all over me!"

He scoffs, saying something else, but Logan only catches the end of it.

"Du bist vild, mein freund"

He remembered another scrawny german who said the same. Swallowing, he lets go, letting him lay against him.

"...You really shouldn't be smoking in here." He muttered after some time of them sitting, taking this time to make sure that the people on this list were not fotgotten.

Logan smirks, blowing some smoke into his face as he coughs drimatically and waves his hands infront of his face with a smile.

[ffastoriesforfatties]

The chair

“Surprise baby!” Aimee happily revealed the clumsily wrapped box with a taped on bow from the store

“Hey now what’s all this..” Evan looked at the box with apprehension, he didn’t much care for being the center of attention- birthdays and celebrations where he was the focus honestly made him uncomfortable.

“It’s for you! For your big promotion! I know you’re going to be working from home more so I wanted to get you something you could use everyday! Well for work and fun” Aimee’s excitement was infectious.

Evan’s smile warmed seeing her evident satisfaction with both the idea and her wrapping job. He tore the paper off the top, and pulled the chair out of the box. It was a high-tech looking black office chair- but very roomy- it actually looked very comfortable.

“Thanks Aimee, that was very thoughtful of you.” Evan put aside his discomfort and gratefully gave Aimee a hug.

“Of course baby!! I got it online, it’s supposed to be the “chair of your dreams” haha, everyone says it changed their lives! I didn’t know chairs could do that, but I thought of course I want the best for my man!” Aimee grinned cheerfully

“Well I’ll set this up, and then I gotta actually *do* my new job, okay? How about getting us some dinner?” Evan turned his attention to the chair and Aimee left to order food

The chair came together in a matter of minutes, it was most of the way assembled, but Evan was shocked by the quality- it was an exceptionally well made chair for some online retailer. He took his first seat in the chair and felt unbelievably comfortable- he almost didn’t want to get up to roll it in front of the desk- so he didn’t! He scooted himself in the chair to the desk and powered on the computer. He poked around his work email and filled out some paperwork, but somehow an hour slipped by without noticing.

Aimee broke his focus by bring in the freshly arrived Chinese food to his desk

“Hey heyy, how do you like the chair?”

“it’s great ames! It’s really so comfortable!”

“Awww I’m so glad!!” Aimee noticed something under Evan’s button up.. some bloating? Or maybe just a trick of the light?

“Anyways babe, I gotta get some work done but thanks for getting the food” Evan’s gaze refixed itself on his monitor, and Aimee went to go eat in the kitchen.

after an hour or two had passed Evan had eaten all his Chinese takeout, which was fairly unusual for him- he ate at his desk often, but usually had leftovers to leave in his mini fridge adjacent to the desk.

Bored of work and needing a distraction he closed his work software, and opened his favorite game; deciding he’d just play for a bit before bed.

Evan slid on his headphones and directed all his attention to the game- until he felt a strange sensation from his abdomen, hunger? Evan frowned confused, but intent on finishing his game he reached for the fridge door while not even removing his eyes from the screen, and grabbed yesterday’s takeout. Playing with one hand, and stopping to eat with the other his performance suffered, but as time went on he felt more and more ravenous. Slowly his attention on the game came to a halt and he moved his chair to be in front of his fridge, digging through the contents looking for anything un-scavenged. Luckily prior evan had forgotten about a couple days worth of lightly picked over takeout- anxiety about his promotion had soured his appetite- but current Evan seemed utterly insatiable. His clothes had begun restricting his movement but the thought of that wasn’t even registering in his brain- he was utterly transfixed by his hunger.

“Aimee?? AIMEE!!! Are you out there? Can you bring me some food I’m starving!!” Evan shouted out to the house and received a hesitant “yeah?”

moments later Aimee popped her head into the room, holding a bag of chips

“Evan! what…happened?” She hurried over to his desk, and saw the face of her beloved boyfriend, budding with fat. Evan looked as though he had gained 40 pounds overnight, his shirt was straining to contain his new inches of fat, and doughy hips giving him plump lovehandles.

Aimee wasn’t sure what came over her but she felt completely weak as she gazed upon her boyfriend. “What are you hungry for? What can I get you?” She came up behind him and placed her hands delicately on his softened shoulders after handing him the chips.

Evan tore open the bag and began putting fistfuls in his mouth “Mexican” *mmph mph* “Lots of it” *mmph* “asap”

Aimee ran out of the room and down the street to the late-open Mexican restaurant and placed an order for catering. Impatiently she waited, her mind focused solely on Evan. Finally the food came and she ran back to the apartment, box stuffed to the brim with food.

When she swung open the apartment door she found Evan, in his chair, in the kitchen, in front of the fridge. “Oh my god Evan.” Her eyes fell on his body. His stomach had ripped open his shirt revealing his potbelly and thickening tits. His pants had miraculously stayed buttoned, but his ballooning thighs and inflating hips had to be burning in those confines. Aimee couldn’t help herself and rushed over with the food, unwrapping burritos and tacos, holding them up to his lips as he devoured one after the other.

Evan couldn’t help but moan in ecstasy at each bite, heavily panting for the half seconds he wasn’t eating. Until the pressure in his pants became uncontainable- and a deafening rip was heard by both of them- his ass and waist tore through the seams, immediately reliving the tension. He moaned again…

“Evan… I had no idea you were such a pig..” Aimee towered over him in the chair, putting his constant stream of food down for a moment. “The chair was just supposed to like, give you better hair or like whatever it is guys want!” She placed her hands on his pudge filled waist and pulled down the tattered remains of his pants. “But look at you. Look at how fucking fat you are… You like this don’t you?” She picked up his belly to reveal his throbbing member desperately seeking attention.

Evan’s eyes met Aimee’s, with a desperate, almost pathetic cry for attention.

“Oh don’t worry fat boy I’m gonna feed you” she caressed his engorged belly “but not without humiliating you bit”

She picked the burritos and Evan opened his mouth readily, this time with the beginnings of a double chin slowly becoming more prominent. Aimee fed him everything in the takeaway box, watching as his form steadily expanded. “You like it when I call you a fat boy huh”

Evan’s now buried member was leaking pre all over his belly and thighs. His face was rounded and begged for more

“You just want to give in to all your greedy fantasy huh… being a big gluttous pig with a fat heavy belly… no job but to eat and get bigger for me, isn’t that right?” Aimee traced her fingers over his body, looming over him, her tight athletes body intimidating him. Evan quivered. “Honey I think your breast are bigger than mine at this point.. let’s see if we can make them bigger…”

Aimee opened the freezer and pulled out the cake she’d bought him that was meant for the next days party. “This was for your big promotion party… but I’m guessing a big fatty like you is too hungry to resist?”

Evan’s drooling betrayed him.. his stomach loudly rumbled and he leaned forward desperately grabbing at it “P-Please Aimée I’ll do anything”

Aimee grabbed the chair, and wheeled him in front of the island, placing the cake in front of him, and supplying no utensils.

Evan couldn’t help himself but to dig in with his hands, putting fistful after fistful of cake inside him. Aimee rounded up the rest of the food in the kitchen and brought it before him, watching his weight unfold.

His belly expanded further, pushing his plush thighs as far apart as he could. His tightywhities began to groan and snap and his ass lifted him further out of the chair, and his hips grew more and more full. His sides developed into soft and thick rolls- forming creases and indenting where his breasts were. His bicep muscles transformed his arms into a fat boys- losing his muscularity in favor of fattening. His fingers and wrists got chubbier and chubbier with each fistful moved into his fattening lips. Panting and moaning making himself bigger and bigger and bigger..

Aimee watched with delight until he had cleared their entire home of sustenance. When he was done, he had gained so much width he had wedged himself into the arm rests.

“Look. At. You.” Aimee’s eyes full of amazement. “I mean look at you fatty… can you even stand up?”

Evan planted his pathetic chubby wrists on the arm rests and pushed up with all his might, only to relax back into the embrace of the chair panting like a dog.

Aimee gestured for his hands to attempt to help him out of the chair, grasping his new softness and yanking on her gargantuan boyfriend. “You gotta try too fat ass!!!!”

With a giant heave his massive ass uncoupled with the chair, leaving him heaving, holding onto the island for support.

“Fucking wow.” Aimee’s cruel tone only stiffened the erection Evan was hiding

“Aimee-“

“No no no Evan I’m running the show. We’re going to the bathroom”

Aimee grabbed Evan and he lumbered as she led him to the mirror.

Evan turned beet red. “I-I-I”

Aimee came up behind him “See how you can’t even see me standing behind you anymore?” She prodded his back rolls. Aimee snaked a hand around to his chest and cupped a tit. “Look at those tits baby.. you’re gigantic.. boys aren’t supposed to have tits you know.. or how about that belly? You’d look pregnant if you didn’t look so fat”

Evan reddened.

“Nothing to say for yourself? Have you gotten too fat to think about anything other than food?” She pinched his waist “You love it don’t you. You want to get bigger”

“I-I-I do..” Evan swallowed hard. He stared at his bloated reflection meekly.

“get on the bed fatty” she commanded

He shuffled to the bed frame, not used to his colossal weight. Sitting down the bed made awful creaking sounds. “There he is… my big pretty fat boy, all mine…”

fyi comments fuel me- if u liked pls lmk! Or lmk what else to write

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

SCREAMIBG GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET ONE OF MY FAV ARTISTS DRAWING NOT ONLY GRAVITY FALLS, BUT FIDDLESTAN???? SCREAMING

Ok now time for an EVIL question what's ur op on fiddlebill. Neither of these idiots can have ford and blame eachother. Now kiss

(specifically pre-portal because I feel like it'd only really work then- fidds losing his memories and no longer being fords apprentice bill would just seem him as pointless to interact with and fidds probably wouldn't have such deep rooted opinions on him anymore either)

SJKFHSDFHFD LMAO YEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!! It's pretty much become my favorite gravity falls ship!!!! I'm so crazy about them!!! I love them so much!!!

That is SUCH an evil question dude. It's not anything I've really ever considered or thought about? I'm a multishipper so I'm not gonna shoot anyone down though. I mostly like to think about bill fucking with fiddleford out of pure unadulterated jealousy. He KNOWS fiddleford has feelings for Ford, a LOT of unrequited feelings, and he feels super duper insecure about that, despite the fact he's got ford wrapped around his toony ass finger. So I like to think he gives fiddleford weird dreams. That's something I meant to draw, actually. I came up with a scenario where bill goes into one of fids *fantasizing about ford* dreams and loses his shit. Hopefully I'll finish that eventually.

So yeah, he definitely contributed to fiddlefords mental downward spiral. Really contributed to the psychological thriller that was originally supposed to be a queer rom com in a cozy cabin in the woods.

I kind of took your ask and started rambling on it? I'm sorry. This was supposed to be about fids x bill. Whoops. You know what... closest I can see to that is bill posessing ford and putting the moves on fiddleford when fiddleford doesn't realize it's bill. Like they're in the bedroom and it's all dark so he can't see the yellow eyes. And bill is doing that to manipulate him. To find a way to hurt him in the process so he'll leave. GOD IT'S ANGSTY NOW THAT I'M THINKING ABOUT IT WHOOPS

HERE'S A BILLFORD/FIDDAUTHOR/MAYBE FIDDLEBILL SONG *throws it at you and runs away*

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

The Diary of Tom Riddle- Diary! Tom Riddle x Reader - P3

pairing: Tom riddle x Fem reader

warnings: Horcruxes, Manipulation, Tom being Tom, side effects of being possessed.

summary: 16-year-old (y/n) finds a mysterious black book on the floor of after it slips out of Ginny Weasleys caldron, curious, she picks it up and keeps it-which leads to one thing after another and discovers the book is far more than it seems.

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 4-

=

Thankfully, as she woke up, (y/n) hadn't moved from her bed throughout the night. She sighed and slowly sat up, rubbing her face, drawing back the curtains of her bed, seeing her roommates all up and getting dressed for the day. It was a Sunday, so it was Hogsmeade day for years 3 and up.

Hogsmeade sounded fun.

(y/n) looked at the diary and grabbed it, popping open her ink well and grabbing her quill, flipping open a book to the now blank page she’d been writing in the night before.

“Morning Tom.”

Tom took a moment to respond, her ink disappearing into the page as his elegant scrawl appeared in its place.

‘Good morning (y/n), did you sleep well?’

“yes I did, thankfully. Woke up where I should be too, in my bed.”

‘Very good. Are you feeling better?’

“yeah, much better, thank you. Im going to go to Hogsmeade today, would you like to come with?”

‘Well, I wouldn’t be able to do much, would I?’

(y/n) hummed in thought, Tom had a point, as he could only see what she wrote/illustrated in the book.

“good point, but I could maybe bring you to the bookstore there and get some ink you’d like?”

‘I don’t eat the ink (y/n)’

“not what I meant but that’s a very funny visual thank you.”

(y/n) giggled to herself, imagining the book eating the ink instead of just absorbing it to write back to her.

“I meant like, would you like some fancy ink? I saved up some money from my allowance and can get some good ink from the store if you would prefer it?”

‘How…generous of you, (y/n)’

“thank you :)”

Tom took a very long moment to respond, as if he was thinking long and hard about her offer. Finally, after a few minutes, he wrote back-though he did so while (y/n) was getting dressed for her outing to Hogsmeade, putting on an oversized sweater for maximum comfort.

‘I suppose it couldn’t hurt if you brought the diary along, I certainly don’t mind good inks to write with, I myself was never able to afford more than the most basic brands.’

(y/n) tilted her head a bit, a smile growing on her face. Tom was opening up to her a bit! Okay-play it cool-don’t overreact.

“aww really?”

‘I don’t need your pity (y/n)’

Oops.

“not pity! Im sorry! Just…idk”

‘What in the merlin does ‘idk’ mean?’

“Oh-I don’t know-its an abbreviation.”

‘Why don’t you just write ‘I don’t know’, it’s not hard?’

“idk, just easier.”

She felt like she could hear him sigh, which made her giggle and she finished getting dressed before writing to him again.

“okay okay, im going to go eat, ill be back to grab you before everyone heads out to Hogsmeade.”

Tom didn’t respond so (y/n) closed the diary and put it back on her bedside table, capping her ink well and cleaning her quill before leaving her room, heading out to the great hall for breakfast.

-

Hogsmeade, thankfully, took the rest of the events from the night before off (y/n)’s mind as she went from store to store, starting at the book store and writing down ink brands and types to Tom, who eventually picked out a non-expensive India ink, but it was definitely more costly than the usual ink she got.

She closed the diary and put it back in her bag, taking the new ink to the front and buying it, the shopkeep wrapping it in paper and then giving it to her in a paper bag.

She counted how much money she had left as she walked down the main path of the village, nodding to herself as she pocketed the coins. She had enough to do someday after Halloween candy shopping.

She hopped straight into Honeydukes, where loads of other students were buying their own discounted candy, and quickly got some candies that were under the discount.

Including a bag of candy corn, and it was the type made in shop-which was even better.

“What is it with you and candy corn (n/n)?” one of her friends that had accompanied her to Hogsmeade asked teasingly, attempting to steal one of the candies (y/n) had bought.

“It’s good!” (y/n) defended the candy, holding the box to her chest. She knew candy corn wasn’t a worldly liked candy-but it was hers and her dad's favorite, so it not only tasted good to her, but it also was nostalgic.

(y/n)’s friend snickered, taking a caramel apple lollipop from (y/n)’s bag full of discounted Halloween candy. (y/n) rolled her eyes, the two catching up with the rest of their friends, hanging out at the three broomsticks for a while before heading back to the castle.

Upon getting back to her dorm room, (y/n) poured out the candy onto her bed and spread it out, sorting it and eating a few pieces here and there as she separated the chocolates from the hard candies, and the lollipops from the taffy.

She took out the diary and the new well of ink, opening the wax around it and setting it aside, testing the ink on her actual notebook before writing to Tom.

“back from Hogsmeade! Using the new ink as well :)”

‘I can tell, it’s far smoother than the ink you were using before.’

“I’m glad you like it! I also got a lot of candy from honeydukes, they were having a day after Halloween sale, I got nearly 5 pounds of candy for one galleon.”

‘Sweet tooth?’

“big one.”

(y/n) smiled brightly as she continued her conversation with Tom, which turned to her asking Tom what his favorite candy was…is.

‘I haven't tried much candy if I must be honest, though I do like treacle tarts.’

“yum, those are pretty good”

“great now Im craving treacle tart thanks Tom.”

‘You’re welcome, (y/n)’

­-

(y/n) happily painted on some Slytherin green and silver face paint onto her cheeks, today was the first quidditch game of the year, and the Slytherin team had gotten a new seeker-the spoiled as fuck Draco Malfoy, who everyone knew bribed his way in but he still wasn’t a terrible flyer-and brand new brooms.

The whole Slytherin house was excited, ready to win the first match of the season against Gryffindor, since they hadn’t won a game against Gryffindor since Harry Potter joined the team the year before.

“You almost ready (y/n)?!” her friend called from the bathroom as she herself finished her makeup.

“Yeah!” (y/n) said, hopping to her feet after pulling away from her desk mirror. “I’m all done!” she wrapped a scarf around her neck and hooked her arm with her friends and they all went down to the quidditch pitch together, the roar of excitement already humming through the stands.

The game started quickly after that and it was exciting! The Slytherins were walloping the Gryffindors easily-quickly overtaking them 90-30. (y/n) whistled and cheered for her team, throwing her fists into the air with each score. “Woah what the fuck?!” she heard her friend suddenly exclaim and (y/n) turned to see where she was looking, her brows furrowing as a bludger began to deliberately chase Harry Potter.

“Is that a rouge bludger??” (y/n) said, her lip curling in confusion. “What the hell they’re like-impossible to tamper??” (y/n) and her friend stopped paying attention to the game as a whole, watching in near horror as Harry was chased around by a bludger.

The Weasley twins tried to bat it away from him but it kept coming back.

“that’s not good-we should tell a teacher-“ (y/n) stuttered, turning to head off the stands, maybe catch Madam Hooch’s attention and stop the game before someone got hurt. (y/n)’s friend nodded and followed her through the crowd of Slytherins and down the stands.

Just as they reached Madam Hooch, the bludger had slammed into Harry’s arm as he reached for the snitch and he hit the dirt soon after; though he had the snitch in hand, Gryffindor had won the game. “Oh shit,” (y/n) muttered under her breath, looking at Harrys very broken arm, as Madam Hooch blew the whistle, ending the game.

The Weasley twins somehow caught the tampered bludger, getting it back into the box and locking it down. Madam Hooch instantly saw to it, and while that all happened-the idiot Lockhart…erm…mended Harry’s arm.

“Ew,” (y/n) muttered as her friend gagged at the rubber look Harry’s arm had taken. Lockhart hadn’t mended shit; he’d removed Harry’s bones!

“That is so nasty,” (y/n)’s friend muttered, and (y/n) nodded in agreement, heading back to the castle after Headmaster Dumbledore told everyone the match was over and to head back to the castle while Harry, and any other injured players, went to Madam Pomfrey.

“Gotta be honest, Gryffindor deserved that win, I mean-odds stacked against them, with those new brooms and that bloody bludger, they won. Shame Potter’s arm got broken for it though.” (y/n)’s friend ranted as they walked back to the common room, (y/n) nodding in agreement. “I have to wonder who tampered the bludger? I mean Madam Hooch checks them right before the game, and if it wasn’t tampered then, how could’ve someone hexed it within the minutes before the game began?”

(y/n) shrugged as her friend continued to rant. “Maybe someone tampered with it mid-game? Because it wasn’t doing it at first, if it was tampered with before the game-it would’ve gone after Harry straight away? Wouldn’t it?” (y/n) suggested, walking into the common room after several other students and her friend nodded, tapping her chin.

“That does sound logical, though I’m not sure how or why anyone would do that, I mean-he’s just a 12-year-old kid? Who’d want to charm a bloody iron magic ball to hurt him?” (y/n) shrugged in response to her friend's rhetorical question.

“Someone fucked up,” (y/n) answered anyway and her friend sighed, the two entering their dorm room. Her friend went to wipe the Slytherin-themed makeup off her face while (y/n) went to her bed and grabbed the diary.

“Potter almost got killed by a bludger at the quidditch match today.”

(y/n) could almost feel the sense of ‘!!?!?!’ from Tom as he hurriedly wrote back to her.

‘Who starts a conversation like that? also what? how? I never liked Quidditch but I’m sure those Quidditch gear chests are impossible to get into?’

“that’s what I said, I think someone jinxed it mid game because it wasn’t going after him at first.”

‘How odd. And it was going after Potter specifically?’

“yeah! Only him, the Weasley twins kept batting it away from him but it would go right back after Potter. Its really weird.”

‘I cannot tell you it isn’t, because it is very odd.’

“yeah”

(y/n) perked up as her friend came back out of the bathroom. “I’m going to go get lunch, you coming?” her friend asked and (y/n) nodded.

“Yeah, lemme just wash my face,” (y/n) said, looking back down at the diary and telling Tom she had to go, setting the book down on the bedside table and going into the bathroom to wash her face.

-

(y/n) woke up very late that night, a ringing in her ears as she opened her eyes, feeling kinda nauseous. She groaned lightly, realizing she’d fallen off her bed, her head pounding as she attempted to get up, pressing her palms to her eyes as they ached.

“What the fuck,” she muttered, rubbing her face. She’d never fallen off her bed before, but considering the odd dream she had-she wasn’t surprised. She eventually got to her feet after the nausea had passed and climbed back into bed, yawning.

She laid back down, but couldn’t get back to sleep. Her mind kept going back to that odd dream. She had been walking through the halls of Hogwarts, at what seemed to be a late hour, and went into one of the bathrooms and…spoke a strange language-a hissing language, and the…sink had come apart??? After that she woke up, having fallen off her bed mid weird dream.

She huffed and drew the curtains around her bed, grabbing her wand, the diary, and her quill. “Lumos,” (y/n) murmured and the tip of her wand began to glow and she opened the diary, flipping through pages and pages of notes, and doodles.

She dipped her quill and began to write to Tom.

“I fell out of my bed,”

‘And why is that so important to tell me? It’s late I’m sure, you should be asleep.’

“you’re right but I cant get back to sleep, I had a weird dream and woke up after falling out of my bed, which ive never done”

“or at least I havent done since I was a kid?”

‘Interesting. What was your dream about if I may ask?’

(y/n) wrote down what she remembered from the dream, and then added a small detail she hadn’t realized till now.

“it felt like I was having an out of body experience, or like I was watching through someone elses eyes? You get what I mean?”

‘I suppose I do, though im sure there’s nothing to worry about, everyone has odd dreams sometimes.’

“have you ever had an odd dream?”

‘Yes, I’m not divulging that information though, you’ll tease me relentlessly about it.’

“no I wont!”

(y/n) huffed as Tom didn’t respond, and she could imagine the expression of ‘sure you wont’ on his face. She wished she knew wha the looked like…wait maybe she could find him in the gallery! He did say he was a prefect in his time, maybe there was a picture somewhere of the 1942-1943 prefects.

“you’re no fun.”

‘Go to sleep (y/n),’

“fiiiine, goodnight Tom.”

‘Goodnight, (y/n)’

-

“A first year got petrified?!” (y/n) asked in a hushed tone, her eyes wide as she gripped her friend's hand tightly as they walked to breakfast Monday morning.

“Yeah, apparently it happened Saturday night, or well, early Sunday morning if you think about it that way-but Professor Dumbledore found him in the middle of the night-just-stone still, petrified.” (y/n)’s friend rambled and (y/n) frowned, squeezing her friend’s hand tighter.

Early Sunday morning…she’d had that weird dream and fell out of her bed Sunday morning.

“What time did the first year get petrified?” (y/n) asked and her friend shrugged.

“Dunno, I’m only telling you what I heard from the grapevine, all I know is Sunday morning, a first year got petrified.” (y/n) huffed nervously in response, swallowing harshly, that weird feeling of paranoia returning to her gut.

Just a coincidence, just a coincidence. It had to be; besides, she’d just fallen out of her bed this time, she hadn’t sleepwalked, she hadn’t even left her dorm room.

…right?

-

“I’m leaving.” (y/n) huffed as dumbass Lockhart came onto the long dueling stage that was set up lengthwise in the great hall, replacing the house tables. Her friend grabbed her arm as she attempted to escape, tugging her towards the edge of the stage-making them be front and center.

“Oh, come on (y/n)~ it’ll be fun!” her friend said cheerfully, she’d didn’t understand why (y/n)…disliked ‘Professor’ Lockhart, even thinking he was hot.

It was one of the few things (y/n) vehemently disagreed with her on.

“it’ll be cringe as fuck that’s what it’ll be.” (y/n) grumbled, crossing her arms as she pouted. She expected maybe Professor Flitwick to be the head of the dueling club, but noooo it had to be the obvious fake Lockhart.

Though-Professor Snape had agreed to…help Lockhart in a demonstration, and that, was going to be fun.

(y/n) couldn’t help the peal of laughter that came from her as Snape sent Lockhart across the dueling stage, her friend gasping as Lockhart landed with a thump. “Is he okay?” her friend asked and (y/n) just snickered with the rest of the Slytherin members of the club.

“Who cares? That was funny.” (y/n) chuckled, smirking as her friend gave her a glare. After that everyone got paired into groups, Lockhart nearly putting the little 1st and 2nd years with the 5th and 6th years attending, Snape correcting that mistake and putting (y/n) against a fellow 6th-year Slytherin, though (y/n) hardly knew his name.

“Remember, disarm only!” Lockhart said and (y/n) rolled her eyes, bowing her to dueling partner with her wand at her side and then holding it out in front of her, her other arm over her head for balance.

The dueling began moments later, and spells shot out of their wands every other moment. (y/n) began with the disarming charm, expelliarmus, but her opponent blocked it and returned with a Stupefy. (y/n) went to block but it felt like she wasn’t in control of herself anymore, she stepped to the side-avoiding the spell-and held out her wand in a grip that wasn’t her own.

“Relashio!” With a wave of her wand her dueling opponent was forced to drop their wand and then (y/n) twirled her wand again. “Depulso!” A blast of white magic flew towards her dueling opponent and they flew back, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

There was an intense satisfaction that ran deep in her bones for a split moment, and an odd feeling to finish her opponent off-but that quickly went away and (y/n) pocketed her wand, rushing over to her dueling partner. “Are you okay?” (y/n) asked, offering her hand and her dueling partner chuckled painfully, rubbing their lower back as she helped them stand.

“I’m okay-that was wicked casting though,” (y/n) only nodded in response, licking her teeth as the dueling groups were stopped, a green haze in the air from the dueling 2nd years. She began to leave the great hall as Potter and Malfoy began to duel, only stopping when she heard a strange hissing coming from the stage.

She turned, the hissing sounding too familiar, coming from Potter as he…hissed at a black snake? Her ears began to ring, her vision going a bit blurry as she stared at Potter, the boy hissing at the snake before Snape destroyed it.

What the fuck?

That was the same hissing she’d heard in her dream on Sunday.

-end of p3-

im very happy with this part and i hope you guys are too-taglist!!!

@dracosslxt4eva @dream-your-own-way @slaggylemon

@slytherinbackintomyroom @starryhiraeth @larallott

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Jess Mariano taking care of sick reader? They're not together yet so she's confused because wtf why is he taking care of me? But he shows up at her house with food, medicine, blankets, etc. and just kinda lets himself in when she answers the door.

Inspired by the episode where he brings Rory food when she's home alone and also by the fact that I stayed home from school sick today 😔

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Jess was the person you least expected to take care of you when you were sick.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Jess Mariano x sick!Reader

You groaned as you shuffled your way to the door, wrapped in a blanket and feeling like absolute death. Your head pounded, throat raw, and the world seemed a little fuzzier than usual. You were barely functioning when a knock echoed through your small apartment, a sound that made you groan louder.

You weren’t expecting anyone—definitely didn’t want anyone to see you like this—so you contemplated ignoring it. But the knocking persisted.

With a resigned sigh, you unlocked the door and cracked it open just enough to peek out. Your eyes widened when you saw none other than Jess Mariano standing on your doorstep. He was holding a bag of takeout in one hand, a plastic bag full of what looked like medicine in the other, and a blanket slung over his shoulder. His usual expression was one of bored disinterest, but you could see the subtle flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Jess?” You rasped, blinking at him in confusion. “What are you—”

He didn’t wait for you to finish. Before you could protest or even think, Jess slipped past you, letting himself into your apartment like he owned the place. “You look like death,” he said, shutting the door behind him, his tone casual but with a hint of something softer underneath.

“Thanks?” you muttered, feeling both bewildered and slightly offended, though you couldn’t deny he was right. “What are you doing here?”

Jess placed the bags on your kitchen counter, glancing at you over his shoulder. “I heard you were sick.”

“I—how?” You leaned against the doorframe for support, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jess Mariano was in your apartment. With food. And medicine. “Who told you?”

“Luke mentioned it.” He shrugged, as if this wasn’t a big deal. “Figured you could use some help.”

“I—” You trailed off, completely unsure how to respond to that. Jess? Showing up at your place to help? It felt like you’d entered some kind of fever dream.

“Sit down,” Jess ordered gently, his hands now occupied with unpacking the takeout containers and organizing the medicine on your counter like he’d done this a hundred times before. “You’re supposed to be resting, not playing twenty questions.”

Your brain was struggling to keep up with what was happening. “I… you didn’t have to come. I’m fine.”

Jess shot you a look, raising an eyebrow. “You look fine,” he said sarcastically, but his eyes lingered on you a second too long, and you caught that worried edge again. “Sit. Seriously.”

You shuffled over to your couch, plopping down with a huff. You watched as Jess moved around your kitchen like it was nothing, grabbing a spoon for the soup, pouring a glass of water, even pulling out a bottle of cough syrup.

“Are you always this bossy?” you muttered, half-annoyed, half-touched by how much he was doing.

“Only with people who don’t take care of themselves.” He smirked, bringing over a steaming container of soup. “Here. Eat.”

You blinked up at him, still not fully comprehending why he was doing this. “Why are you—why do you care?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

Jess didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he sat beside you on the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, but still leaving enough space to keep things from getting awkward. He glanced at you, his expression softer than you were used to. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t pass out alone in here.”

His tone was teasing, but you could hear the concern laced in his words, and that only made you more confused—and flustered. Why did he care? You weren’t… you weren’t anything. Not yet, anyway.

“You’re acting weird,” you mumbled, taking a hesitant sip of the soup. “This is… nice. You’re not usually nice.”

Jess chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t get used to it.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound being the clink of the spoon against the container as you ate. Jess glanced around your apartment, making small talk here and there, but you couldn’t help but notice how he kept sneaking glances at you, like he was checking to make sure you were okay.

After a while, you broke the silence, your voice soft. “Thanks. For, you know, all this.”

Jess shrugged again, but there was something different in the way he did it this time. “Don’t mention it.”

You stared at him for a beat longer than necessary, your heart doing something weird in your chest. He wasn’t the type to fuss, wasn’t the type to show up with soup and medicine for anyone—least of all you. But here he was, doing exactly that.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” you said, trying to break the tension, but your voice came out more affectionate than you intended.

Jess gave you a crooked smile, his eyes twinkling. “Takes one to know one.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to suppress. Maybe this fever was making you delirious, but suddenly, you didn’t mind Jess being here. In fact, you kind of liked it.

Who knew Jess Mariano could be so… sweet?

[literary-motif]

Yo are so good at writing wowow!

Also I’m sorry to other again but suggestion!

May I ask that you write something where Love is doubting Xanthus’ love for them? He’s trying his best but they don’t believe him?

<33

Whatever Souls Are Made Of

Xanthus Claiborne x Reader

“Xanthus, do you love me?” you asked suddenly, needing to find answers to the uncertainty swirling in your mind. 

He chuckled, missing the heavy seriousness of your question. “I call you ‘my love’ for a reason, don’t I?”

He felt you tense, the peaceful moment spent cuddling on Dontis’ couch — a respite as you basked in the eye of the storm before everything would come to a head a few days from now — shattered as you broke the illusion. 

You sat up, disentangling yourself from his arms. “Yes, but do you love me?” you asked, looking at him with a mixture of weariness and fear. 

There was uncertainty in your gaze, he understood, along with longing and heartbreaking doubt.

“What is this line of question, my love?”

You averted your gaze, knowing it did nothing to hide the turmoil in your chest. You did not know what to believe. “I mean, this is predestined, isn’t it? How— how can you be sure that what you’re feeling is love? How— what if we weren’t bonded? Would you love me the same?”

Your whirlwind of emotions seeped into the bond. Xanthus had felt the creeping bleakness, the crawling uncertainty, approaching like a thunderstorm. He had felt the static in the air around him — thick with unbroken tension. 

This should not have come as a surprise. He should have known better that the human mind always longed to understand. He should have known that the all-encompassing feeling of absolute devotion — the love he had for you, and you in turn for him — was not a gift either of you could accept without question. He had tried to distract himself from the nagging voice in his head sowing doubts, but his research into the bond had been cut short due to obvious present circumstances. 

Fated love or not, he did not want to lose you — could not dare to, if he wanted to keep his sanity. The inquiry about the nature of his feelings needed to wait until the threat on your lives was terminated. 

“Would you?” you pressed, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

He sighed. What was he supposed to say?

“No.”

Your expression dropped. He thought he could pinpoint the very instance in which your heart cracked. 

“Wait, let me finish. I could not love you the same way. The love we have — this feeling shared between us — is something much deeper than common, maddening romantic love. It feels like our very souls are entwined — if something like souls actually exist. It feels like you are a part of me in the rawest sense, as if our connection transgresses the laws of space and time. I cannot breathe without you, and I feel you. When I close my eyes, I can sense you. I see all of you. A feeling so complete is more than love.”

You nodded, a twinge of hurt still nestled in your heart. “I know the feeling,” you said, taking in Xanthus’ soothing smile. 

His hand reached out to brush through your hair. You leaned away, making him freeze.

“But do you love me?”

Xanthus dropped his hand. He looked deep in thought, like one of the countless philosophers he no doubt met, pondering the virtue of morality and the meaning of life. He opened his mouth to reply, hesitating. “I don’t know.”

At least he was honest. 

“Thank you,” you said. “I— I know that we didn’t choose this. We didn’t fall in love, it was just there suddenly. How real can it all be if it is all evoked by some blood magic?”

“It’s not ‘blood magic.’”

“But still! The sentiment remains, and I— I feel the same way about you. I have this urge to be near you at all times. I am scared when you’re not there. I can’t think straight when there is a surge of emotion in me that is not my own. It feels like a part of you is also a part of me — or maybe we’re two parts of a whole — but what autonomy does this give us? Do you think we could fall out of love?”

“We’re not in love. How could we fall out of it?”

His answer made you pause. He was right, on a technicality. It was the sort of detail that turned the argument, and you could not even scoff because he was right, and the philosophical streak in your discussion had made it transgress from a mere exchange of feelings and love-assurances — or lack thereof — to a much broader, more fundamental one. 

“True,” you conceded, leaning against the couch. Xanthus raised his arm in silent invitation for you to cuddle against his side. You accepted, leaning your head against his shoulder and feeling the immediate relief rushing through you at his warm embrace. “My argument for autonomy still stands. How can we trust this feeling between us? Not this love, because it is not it—”

“It’s more.”

“No, it’s different.”

He chuckled, and you felt the sound of it deep in his chest. “How very romantic of you to think of love as the ultimate good. The feeling between us surpasses love. It is more than every other emotion put together and amplified by a thousand — it is different. It is different  because it is more.”

“You mean it is more than an emotion?”

“Yes, I suppose. I think of it as an eternal tie, binding us together like the strings of fate.”

“You don’t believe this thing — the bond — between us can subside? You don’t think, with time, the intensity will diminish?”

“No, I don’t believe it will.”

“Do you think our meeting was fate?”

He paused, giving you a sly smile. The socratic method you applied to the discussion — probing him with questions and analyzing his answers — made him feel as if he was back in the drawing room of Schopenhauer, listening to his long-winded speeches while glancing at the skyline of Frankfurt. 

“Are we branching into Metaphysics, love? It’s going to be a long night,” he said, squeezing you tighter. “No matter what I believe, I know how I feel about you. Where it comes from and why these feelings curse through me is secondary. I love you, for lack of a better term — but when I tell you, know I mean that the same overwhelming feelings you have are reciprocated until the end of time.”

[nekkomaa]

Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Notes: I finally managed to finish this chapter without hating it!!! If you notice any errors please let me know, I know very little English and so I end up translating everything using an online translator, and you know sometimes there are errors...

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word counts: 1.435

The job was simple: break into the house of one of Markrov's henchmen, get any clues about their connection, and hopefully more clues about the human trafficking that had been going on for months. However, the job proved complicated when he had to deal not only with the guards but also with a woman, well, he was told that the guy had a wife, but he didn't expect her to be in the house.

The job was supposed to be simple. So why instead of just two in the car were there now three?

He actually considered the idea of killing her, leaving her in the house and making it look like some kind of ridiculous accident, just to confuse them and give them more time to act. But he felt sorry, Simon never liked killing women, he didn't even know if you were lying to them or not, but Ghost never minded killing women, not if they were involved in anything illegal.

You could well be in on it with your husband, and he wouldn't know until it was too late. Deep down your instincts tell you that you're just an ignorant woman who doesn't even know about her own husband, which would explain some of your behavior, but Ghost doesn't usually give people the benefit of the doubt, he's more of a shoot first ask questions later kind of guy.

So why is he taking you along? The only answer Ghost has come up with at the moment is that you could be of great help, a decoy perhaps. If this were a kidnapping, he could even use you as a bargaining chip, to find out how much the husband would be willing to pay to get his beautiful trophy wife back, but everyone knows that her husband wouldn't pay a penny to get you back.

As soon as they arrived at the safe house the first thing they did was tie you properly to a chair, they knew you wouldn't be able to escape even if they let you loose, not with two trained men of their size, but it was good to be safe. Ghost barely looked at you, he prefers not to memorize too many faces of people who will probably end up dead, he already has enough people to haunt his dreams, he doesn't need one more.

As soon as Ghost removed the tape from his mouth, he was ready to leave, anything not to be in the same room as you. He wasn't too surprised when you didn't scream, I mean, he realized you were a clever little thing the moment you decided to collaborate with him, maybe deep down he expected you to scream and shout at the top of your lungs even though you saw you were in the middle of nowhere and knew it wouldn't do any good, he kind of expected any reaction from you, just so he could be rude without feeling so guilty. He doesn't even know whether or not you were involved and aware of what your husband was doing.

“I thought she'd have some resistance, you know screaming and all.” Soap seemed excited by the discovery, a little too excited, but Ghost had learned to ignore strange comments and actions during his time in the army, after all, none of them had a good sanity, not even him.

“I think she understood that no one will come even if she screams.” Ghost just turned and left the room, heading for the room he would be staying in, he would leave you for Soap to deal with, meanwhile he would find out more information in other ways.

Soap appeared at the door a few minutes later, saying that you had fainted, overwhelmed by everything, Ghost just nodded and told him to try again later.

And then Soap was in charge of trying to get more information out of you when you were awake. Ghost felt he'd already had too much interaction with you, and let's face it, Soap was great at getting people to open up, so he was an infinitely better chance. Even though he initially failed, Ghost still believed that Jonny could achieve something.

“Why can't we have a clean safe house for once in our lives?” Soap complains as he throws himself on the bed and dust rises, he coughs a few times trying to shake the dust away in a failed attempt.

“We're in a safe house, not a vacation home Jonny. At least this one has furniture.” Ghost's voice comes out sarcastic, he doesn't take his eyes off the computer, grumbling when something doesn't go as he expects.

“How long is this going to last?” Soap rambles to himself, not really caring whether Ghost listens or not.

“Preferably as little as possible.” He answers back and lets out a strange sound, a muffled, croaking laugh. “I found something you might want to read.” Ghost passes the computer to Soap, the small print on the screen showing something interesting.

The night was colder than he thought it would be, probably because winter was approaching. Ghost stood guard in the early hours of the night, Soap was passed out on the dusty bed in the bedroom, at least this safe house had some comfort, in the last few missions the safe houses had nothing more than just the bathroom sink and the shower, of course, only cold water.

He busied himself going over the information he had about the mission. It was routine, something he was used to and something he could relate to now, if he let his mind wander to any other thought than the mission he knew he would lose himself in a spiral and Ghost couldn't let that happen. Not while he still had a mission to finish, not while he was still on that mission.

He wouldn't give you anything more than a few glances, just to make sure you were still in your sleep/fainting state. It would be tedious for anyone else to sit up half the night watching someone else, without much to occupy themselves, but Ghost doesn't really care, too used to babysitting at night to care that much.

It's actually kind of pathetic now that he thinks about it, the fact that he's watching you. A weak, untrained woman, tied to a chair and passed out. You'd never get out of that house without one of the two of you noticing, Ghost could be mistaken about you, you could be a clever little mouse playing dumb, but he still doubts you'd be able to get rid of the ropes holding you down without making a sound.

He's only awake to keep people out of the house, that's the truth. You're no danger to him. Too fearful, not even able to take the pressure of a few questions and already fainting.

Ghost remembers somewhere in the back of his mind that you're just a civilian, and as far as he knows you have every right to cry and faint out of fear and exhaustion, he sometimes forgets that people aren't like him, that most people aren't in the army.

And in a corner of his mind comes the nagging voice reminding him that for all he knows you might actually be being held in private. But again, it's just an assumption, not confirmed information. He found almost nothing about you in the files, your name was mentioned once in a file, but it was so vague that it could easily have been forgotten.

Ghost rolls his eyes at the thought and snorts, he'd rather not think about it too much, if he knew that bastard was holding you against your will he certainly wouldn't spare his fingers when he finally managed to catch the lowlife. Ghost simply hates violence against innocent, unarmed women. He also hates the memories that come with that thought.

A heavy sigh leaves his lips, he would definitely kill for a cup of tea or an alcoholic drink right now, anything to slow down his mind and relax his tense body. But well, unfortunately there's nothing in this house apart from drinking water, and if they're lucky, some kind of canned food.

The sound is very low, but it's still noticeable if you're paying attention. Ghost looks away from the window and sees you looking around, your gaze unfocused and lost, surely it would take you a few seconds to fully regain consciousness.

That's when Ghost knows it's going to be a long night. Maybe he'll wake Soap up and let him deal with it.

[bachelor4choice]

Fans of Arcane! I'm here to bring theories!!!!

P.S.: Please, no spoilers. Especially regarding any leaks. Making theories is a big part of what makes a show fun for fans, so don’t ruin that. Good? Good.

Recently, I saw here on Tumblr a series of images about how the acts will be divided in this second season, and that gave me some clues about how Vi’s arc might unfold. Since they're focusing a lot on her, it's the "easiest" to deduce, but I have some guesses about other characters as well.

The image (not sure if it's official ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯) is this one:

HERE WE GO!

Act 1: It would pick up immediately after the final events of the first season. Vi immediately finds herself "forced" to join Caitlyn and the Enforcers. It’s a natural progression for the character, considering what happened. Vi values herself as someone who protects those she loves. She always has been this way, so when she feels like she failed Jinx, she moves on to protect Cait. I believe, for her, it’s also a way to protect Zaun, which must fall into chaos with the power vacuum left by Silco. In this act we’d see Vi and Caitlyn grow even closer, but with so many close calls that we would die a little, because neither of them is exactly what the other needs. Both Caitlyn and Vi, in the inside, are actualy drifting away from what they initially liked in each other. Yes, it’s going to be quite painful to watch, but hey! It’s going to get worse :)

I believe the end of this act will be a confrontation between Jinx and Vi. And here, my friends, we see the downfall, because I still believe Vi won’t be able to finish off Jinx, and this will be a double failure in Vi’s "protector" nature. This will lead her to distance herself from Cait and the Enforcers, but by this point, Vi has nowhere to return to, because Zaun no longer accepts her. She has become a traitor, remember? Enter Dark Vi! At the end of this act, there will be ANOTHER breakup between Vi and Cait (without them even having started dating yet! These lesbians) and this will also push Cait to take more drastic actions, alongside Mel’s mother.

Act 2: It would start with Vi at her lowest point (I’m not looking at her arms, you are!) I believe this is also when Jinx becomes a symbol of resistance, as a response to the increasing pressure applied by Caitlyn and Medarda. As things get politically terrible, Vi continues to lose her sense of self. That’s why she drinks so much and why the ex-enforcer takes her to those underground fights. She keeps hallucinating about Caitlyn because, again, she feels like she’s failed. She couldn’t help Caitlyn because she couldn’t stop protecting Jinx. For her, this whole situation is lose-lose. Seeing Caitlyn drift further from who she truly is also deeply affects Vi.

I’ve always admired Caitlyn’s character for her rationality and compassion. She’s smart, determined, focused, but sweet (like a Cupcake). Seeing someone you care about lose that side of themselves because of your own sister… Yeah, I’d be drinking too. This would explain why Vi hallucinates about the Caitlyn from the first season. At the same time, with Jinx being exalted as a symbol, Vi sees exactly what she’s lost: the sister who was supposed to grow up and help Zaun. Everyone viewing Jinx this way, when she definitely ISN’T like that anymore, is like rubbing salt in the wound.

I believe Vi’s downfall will take up an entire episode. Two things could happen to end Dark Vi. Jinx, as we see her watching the fights and even betting on Vi. (Same Symbol)

Yep, in the new images, Vi isn’t hallucinating about Jinx, only about Cait. Jinx is going to watch Vi spiraling and I think she’s going to HATE it. I do believe Jinx has changed, but I think she still prefers to see Vi distant but doing okay, rather than close and falling apart. I think this would be an interesting trait for Jinx. Now, throwing in a wild guess: I think Jinx herself is going to seek out Caitlyn. Cait, by the way, is likely spiraling too, but unlike Vi, she has other ways to self-destruct (work).

So, my theory for the end of Act 2 is that Jinx is going to show Cait the state Vi’s in and say, “Look at this disaster lesbian!” This will lead to a really sweet moment where Cait finally reconnects with her compassionate side—caring about others' pain, not just her own (get ready to cry here. If this really happens, I want ALL of it! From tending to Vi’s wounds and alcoholism to a heart-wrenching confession in the middle).

HOWEVER, I don’t think Cait’s return will be the only catalyst. Here’s where the battle with Warwick comes in! Wouldn’t it be tragic if Vander, once again, is responsible for making Vi rediscover her value as the protector of those she loves? Because I think that’s exactly what’s going to happen—fighting this version of Vander will be the final nail in the coffin for Dark Vi. Oh, Vander, helping Vi even now.

Act 3: We’ll finally have Vi and Cait on the same page (you know that sex scene? Probably here, and I think it’s going to lean more towards sweet than sexy. Something tasteful, definitely).

Vi will be an Enforcer, but not to hunt Jinx—rather, to help Zaun and protect everyone, including Piltover, from Empress Medarda’s grip. After all, with Cait no longer obsessed with taking down Jinx, Medarda’s influence over Caitlyn will come to an end. The only leverage Medarda has over Cait is her anger, and when that’s no longer in play, Cait’s rational side kicks back in. She’ll realize that for Medarda, it was never about justice—it was about Hextech. This realization will be what unites everyone: Zaun and Piltover will come together, fighting against Medarda.

Oil and Walter.

As for Cait, there are definitely some missing pieces. Just as Vi has Warwick, Cait is going to have something beyond Jinx/Vi. But since there’s so little information about the other characters, it’s hard to say who. There’s bound to be something more than just the power of love. What’s important is that during the third act, we’ll already have Cait and Vi as Piltover’s Finest! In those perfect black uniforms.

Well, that's basically it! See you in November, when Arcane becomes my entire personality!