#not judge jury and executioner my ass

[varpusvaras]

"This isn't a punishment. You just need to be hit in order for you to stay in line. I love you." Why is this literally from a mouth of a parent who is defending spanking their 1-year-old because the baby needs to learn consequences.

[definitelynotshouting]

i can't believe you'd accuse my son of crimes like this shout. look at how innocent and guilty he is

I AM PUTTING THIS FUCKER IN JAIL!!!!!

[insomnova]

realizing my recent jason posts makes it sound like i hate his character when that could not be farther from the truth. i love my unhinged toxic self sabotaging king. he has so many problems and over half of them are directly his doing. watching people grind down his sharp edges until he's a misunderstood softboy is what gets me up in arms like leave him alone he's doing absolutely horrible things to himself and everyone around him and you're going 2 accept that buddy!!

[cumironi]

‘ SSSHH, BEWARE OF THE FOOTSTEPS！

feat. gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami, shiu

𖧷 sum. “ssshh, keep quiet,” they moan in your ear, breath burning your skin despite the cool air of the night. sēx outside can be very tricky, but. . . getting caught or not, it’s up to you: whether you can’t keep your moán to yourself or. . . not.

warning. outdoors/public space, exhibitionism, dōuble-penetration ( sukuna ), petnames, overstim, praises, name-calling, choke(s), under influence ( gojo, all consent ), dirty talk, spank(s).

＃ GOJO SATORU

your giggles grow louder rhythm along the way you bounce on gojo’s thick cock, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. the alcohol has loosened your inhibitions, allowing you to be more carefree and playful in your lovemaking. “baby...” you whimper, grinding down on him harder as you ride his lap. your wet cunt clings tightly to his shaft, the heat, and tightness driving him wild.

“you’re such a naughty girl, always begging for more of my cock,” gojo teases, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you. his blue eyes sparkle with mischief and arousal, drowsy from alcohol. “i think ’m going to have to punish you for being such a bad girl. you couldn’t even wait until we got home, huh?”

gojo grins at you, crocked, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, his massive cock stretching your cunt to its limits. “yeah, looks like i’ve got a little slut on my hands,” he says, his voice low and husky with desire. “a filthy girl who can’t control herself around me.”

he lifts your skirt higher, exposing more of your ass as he slaps it hard, the sound echoing through the quiet yard. “this is what happens when you’re a bad girl, sweetheart. you get punished.” gojo thrusts up into you again, his length hitting deep inside your womb. “and right now, i’m the judge, jury, and executioner.”

you laugh before a sharp cry escapes your lips the second gojo’s palm— big and cold— connects with your ass, the stinging sensation mingling with the intense pleasure from his relentless pounding. your cunt clenches around his thick cock, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

“you are so silly,” you cringed between your giggles, bracing yourself against his chest as you continue to ride him wildly. the combination of the cool evening air, the warmth of his body beneath you, and the intoxicating liquor coursing through your veins has you lost in a haze of lust and euphoria.

“sshh, we should be quiet,” you whisper, again, giggling, your voice breathless and desperate between the laugh. nails dig into his shoulders as you grind down onto him, seeking that perfect angle to make you come undone. gojo chuckles darkly at your whispered plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. “shh, yeah, keep quiet, baby,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling your ear. “we don’t want anyone hearing how loud and dirty this little slut is getting fucked out here.”

his words send a tingling, flames of stars from your shoulder straight to your cunt, and you bite your lip to stifle another giggle. gojo’s cock is so deep inside you, stroking that sensitive spot within your core with every powerful thrust. you can feel his balls slapping against your cunt, adding to the overwhelming sensations crashing through your body.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” gojo groans, his face contorting in pleasure. “i can feel your cunt squeezing me like a vice. you love my big dick, don’t you?” your legs tremble as gojo’s thick cock stretches and fills you completely, the pleasure bordering on pain as he hits that sweet spot deep within your core over and over. you throw your head back, your long hair cascading down your back as you surrender to the overwhelming sensations.

“your mom and dad might see us,” you declare between the giggle instead of answering, warm breath fanning your boyfriend’s face the minute you lean closer. the mix of the rough grass beneath you, the cool night air, and gojo’s searing heat enveloping— a dangerous mix of cocktails of lust and pleasure that sends you spiraling out of your mind.

gojo smirks up at you, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with lust and mischief. “let ’em watch,” he says, his voice low and husky. “they already know i’m a perverted bastard. nothing new there. they know better than to disturb me when i’m fucking their daughter-in-law.” he grips your hips harder, pulling you down onto his cock as he drives upward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping pussy. “fuuuck, you feel amazing,” gojo groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he starts to lose himself in the pleasure. “i could cum inside you right now, fill this naughty girl up with my seed.”

his words send a jolt of excitement through you, and you begin to move faster, riding him with reckless abandon. the thought of gojo marking you, claiming you as his, pushes you closer to the edge. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the yard, punctuated by your high-pitched moans, giggle and gasps.

he leans in, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue plundering yours as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. gojo breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, baby? i can feel your pussy twitching around my cock.”

# GETO SUGURU

gasps sharply as geto’s thick cock plunges deep inside you, your body jolting against the cold metal railing. you bite your lip hard, trying to stifle a moan at the intense sensation of being taken so roughly out here in the open air. “sh-shh...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “fuck— sugu’ be quiet,” just a second, you glare at your boyfriend over your shoulder.

fingers curling around the rusty, dirty balcony fence tighter, your knuckles turning white as he pounds into you relentlessly. the force of each thrust makes my breasts bounce and rub against the rough fabric of his shirt that you wear. you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft stretching you wide, hitting all the right spots inside you.

“oh god— baby,” breathe out, your words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath you. “hah! look who’s talking tough now,” geto chuckles lowly, his breath hot against your ear as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his hands grip your hips tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust. he is not even bothering to keep his voice down as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his mission is only one : make the stupid neighbors stop flirting with you.

“you’re the one making all those cute little noises,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “i bet they can hear you moaning all the way down the hall. ’m surprised they haven’t called the cops yet,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he growls, “and i’m going to keep doing this until you can’t take anymore.”

geto reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly through the fabric of the shirt. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, meannn, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your cunt. the action earn a choked whimper escapes your throat at the cruel twist of your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. geto’s pace quickens, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency. the balcony’s fence creaks ominously under the force of your coupling, but he shows no signs of slowing down. “come on doll, scream for me,” he commands, his voice low and husky with desire. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless out here.”

your pussy clenches tightly around geto’s thick cock, milking him as he continues to ravage you with wild abandon. “ah-ahh! s-suguuuu’!” you cry out, unable to contain yourself any longer. the rough treatment of your sensitive nub, combined with the relentless pounding of his shaft, pushes you precariously close to the edge.

geto’s mocking words only fuel the fire within you, igniting a dark, primal desire that demands release. as he grips your hip harder, pulling you back onto him with bruising force, you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensations. “hhn! oh f-fuck, s-shouldd- quiet,” you wail, your voice rising to a desperate keen, whispering like a mantra to yourself.

geto grins wickedly, pleased by your desperate attempts to stifle your cries. however, he clearly has no intention of letting up anytime soon. “that’s right, let it out,” he encourages, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “moan for me, doll. show everyone how much you love getting fucked raw by your boyfriend out in the open.”

he punctuates his words with another vicious thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. the obscene squelch of skin meeting skin echoes loudly across the balcony, mingling with your ragged breaths and the creaking of the railing beneath you. geto leans in close, his lips hovering mere inches from your ear as he whispers, “come on, i know you can be louder than that,” his breath burning, spit all the pleasure with his dirty talk. “show me how much you love getting fucked in public. let everyone know who’s making you cum so hard.”

you can tell geto was loving seeing you struggle to hold back your moans. he continued to push deeper and faster into your wet heat, stretching your walls around his thickness with every powerful stroke. his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he used your body for his own pleasure— and his punching-jealosy bag. you could feel the veins in his cock pulsing against your inner walls, throbbing with need.

a strangled sob tears from your throat as geto’s words wash over you, each syllable a sharp blade cutting through your last vestiges of restraint. the shameless, public nature of your tryst, coupled with the unrelenting assault on your senses, finally shatters the fragile barrier holding back your climax.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” you shriek, your voice a raw, guttural cry that seems to reverberate off the very walls of the building. your body convulses violently, back arching as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. your pussy clamps down around geto’s pistoning cock like a vice, rhythmically milking him as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. the sheer intensity of your release leaves you gasping and twitching, utterly spent.

# TOJI FUSHIGURO

breathless moans escape your lips as toji pounds into you relentlessly, the bamboo walls creaking with each powerful thrust. the sound of waves crashing outside mingles with your ragged panting, creating an erotic symphony.

“mm— baby. .” you gasp, your hands bracing against the rough bamboo as he grips your hips, pulling you back onto his thick cock each time while you, uncontrollably desperate to keep your mouth shut from spreading the moan and sin to everyone around— there are children around for fuck sake. the cool ocean breeze wafts through the open ceiling of the structure, sending shivers down your spine even as your body burns with desire. your clit throbs in time with toji’s sleepless strokes.

“shhh... i gotchu, ma,” toji whispers huskily in your ear, feeling your body tremble beneath him. he tightens his grip on your hips, fucking you harder, faster, driven by lust and the thrill of getting caught. the thought of someone discovering them sends a dark thrill through him. leaning over your shoulder, he nips at your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks making a sharp cry tears from your throat as toji bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to draw blood. his free hand snakes around to rub your clit in firm circles, pushing you closer to the land of climax and pleasure just for a second. “gonna fill this tight pussy up, ma,” he growls, his voice low and rough with arousal.

the pain only heightens your pleasure, making your inner walls clench greedily around his pistoning cock. the bamboo structure creaks ominously under your frenzied coupling, but toji doesn’t care. all that matters is claiming you right here, right now, consequences be damned. you whimper, your head thrown back against his chest as he assaults your sensitive flesh with his fingers and mouth. the knowledge that you are so close to being discovered only fuels the fire raging within you.

your hips buck wildly, meeting each of toji’s powerful thrusts as he drives into you with primal intensity. the wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the small, tiny, wee space, mingling with your ragged breathing and toji’s guttural grunts. toji’s arms snake around your slippery skin for the nth time, to press firmly against your belly, encouraging you to arch into him, to meet his thrusts head-on— bend your stomach deeper into the bulge of his thick cock that peeks at your abandonment.

“fuck yeah— come on ma, i know you can do it,” toji snarls, pounding into you with reckless abandon. he can feel your body starting to tighten around him, and it spurs him on. he wants to push you over the edge, make you scream his name for all to hear. fingers dancing lower, he roughly pinches your clit, rubbing it between his fingers in harsh, rapid circles. at the same time, he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “gonna cum so deep inside you, mark you as mine. everyone will know who you belong to.”

# RYOMEN SUKUNA

whimpers softly, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of being filled so completely by sukuna’s enormous cocks. tears continue to stream down your cheeks— struggle to even do as much as catch your breath, each thrust sending waves of pleasure-pain crashing through you.

# NANAMI KENTO

panting heavily, i manage a weak, “my lord. .” your voice is barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin and sukuna’s lewd grunts of satisfaction. his twice or three times bigger mouth on his stomach lick the small of your back— it smirks, your cunt can feel it.

sukuna chuckles darkly at your feeble attempt to address him properly, his four arms gripping you tighter as he pounds into you relentlessly. the tongue on his stomach licks up your spine, leaving a trail of saliva that tingles on your sensitive skin. his upper pair of hands reach around to grasp your breasts, squeezing and kneading them roughly as he fucks you harder. the third hand slides down to rub your clit, making sure to hit that sweet spot with every stroke.

“foolish mortal,” he sneers, his voice low and menacing. “you should be grateful i deign to use you for my pleasure. your pitiful cries only spur me on.” one of his hands slides around to fondle your breast roughly, pinching and twisting your nipple between his fingers. his other hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, forcing your body to respond despite your mind’s protests.

cries out sharply as sukuna tweaks your nipple, the sudden jolt of pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure from his cocks and touch. “ah! m-my lord, please...” your hips buck involuntarily, meeting his thrusts as his skilled hands work to push you closer to the edge. “this is— too much, i-i can’t...”

trembling, you clench around the thick cocks stretching your inner walls, desperate for some respite but knowing it won’t come anytime soon. “just- just give me a moment, i need...” your eyes hooded, half-heartedly open and find the open garden surrounded you, few of his servants passed by— yet, despite them didn’t have enough the courage to look directly, the voice of skin roughly kiss, your desperate-slutty moan, and sukuna’s rough grumble was obvious.

sobbing quietly, you try to gather your fragmented thoughts, dreading what further degradation or humiliation sukuna might inflict upon you once he’s finished using your body for his twisted amusement. sukuna laughs cruelly at your pleas, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “a moment? how quaint. you think you have control over this?”

instead, he speeds up his pace, the wet sounds of his cocks pistoning in and out of you growing louder. the tongue on his stomach slithers up to your ear, licking the shell before whispering, “i think you need to learn your place, silly mortal. and if begging for mercy is what it takes...”

his fourth arm moves to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “perhaps a little choking will help you focus on the present. now, beg properly. beg me to let you cum, to grant you this fleeting pleasure.”

the hand on your clit intensifies its ministrations, rubbing circles that send sparks of ecstasy shooting through your nerves. with that, he redoubles his efforts, slamming his cocks deep inside you with brutal force. the sounds of flesh meeting flesh echo through the garden, mingling with your choked sobs and the occasional gasp from passing servants who can’t help but steal glances at the depraved scene.

the servant who dared to glance your way quickly looks away, not wanting to meet sukuna’s wrathful gaze. they all know better than to disturb their master when he’s indulging in such carnal pleasures. sukuna tightens his grip around your throat slightly, his smirk growing wider as he watches the effect it has on you. he leans in close, his hot breath washing over your ear as he whispers, “look at them, pet. can you see how they’re staring? envious of the privilege i’m granting you, of the pleasure you get to experience at my hands.”

his fingers dig into your neck, applying just enough pressure to make your vision blur at the edges. “they wish they could be in your position right now, don’t they? wishing they could feel my cocks inside them, wishing they could hear their own desperate moans echoing through the garden.”

your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen as sukuna tightens his grip around your throat. panic sets in as you claw at his wrist, desperate for air. he chuckles darkly, amused by your struggles. just as you're about to pass out, sukuna releases his hold, allowing you to gulp in a ragged breath. he watches with perverse fascination as you tremble and wheeze, your body still wracked by the aftershocks of his relentless pounding.

sukuna’s hand on your clit becomes a blur of motion, rubbing and pinching in a relentless rhythm designed to drive you to the brink of insanity.

he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as he rocks into you slowly. his voice is low and husky, filled with desire even as he tries to keep things discreet. with his other hand, he gently cup your cheek, tilting your face up towards him, thumb brushing across your lips as he tries to silence your pleasured moans. “shh, my love... i know it feels amazing, but we need to be quiet so no one knows what we’re doing here.”

his brown eyes filled with adoration and lust, blend like a mix of cocktails under the dim blue and purple bar lights. “i want to hear you, but not like this. let me take care of you when we get home, okay? right now, just relax for me...” he punctuates his words with a deep, slow thrust, making you gasp despite yourself. his deep voice is a soothing whisper against your ear as he rocks his hips. one after another while keeping his hard length buried within your cunt. “just focus on how good i make you feel, okay? let me take care of everything.”

your body shudders at the intensity of his words, his touch igniting sparks that race through your veins. you nod frantically, unable to form coherent responses over the crescendo of pleasure building inside you. instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling into his warmth as you cling to him desperately.

your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more pressure against your sensitive clit. you can’t help the whimpers that escape, muffled against his skin, as he continues to stroke that perfect spot deep within you. each deliberate thrust sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, threatening to consume you whole and drowning you all the way.

desperate to stifle the sounds of your desperation, you press your mouth to his throat, sucking gently on the pulse point there. the subtle pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure. the sound of music and everyone push painfully far away to the back of your head, and everything becomes grey with how much the sounds of nanami’s breathing kissing your ear. all warm, soft and just him. “baby..”

he inhales sharply as you suck on his throat, the sudden rush of sensation sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. his grip on you tightens reflexively, fingers digging into your hip bones as he struggles to maintain control. the urge to claim you harder, faster, more forcefully is almost overwhelming, but he resists, determined to please you rather than succumb to base instinct.

with a herculean effort, he steadies his movements, focusing on long, slow strokes designed to stretch and fill you without jarring you against the seat or drawing unwanted attention. he lets out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your ear as he fights to hold back his own climax. “my love... the love of my life,” he breathes, the endearment barely audible over the thumping bass.

overwhelmed by the intense sensations coursing through every fiber of your being, you can only whimper and tremble in nanami’s arms. the steady rhythm of his thrusts, the heat of his body enveloping yours, the sweet ache of his fingers digging into your flesh— it all blends together into an exquisite symphony of pleasure.

it was painfully slow, but when he was sensing your impending release, nanami’s hands begin to roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your breasts, before coming to rest on your thighs. he spreads them wider, angling his hips to hit that magical spot inside you with precision. the added pressure sends you spiraling toward the edge, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his thick length.

nanami’s eyes darken with lust as he watches you lose yourself in pleasure, your body tensing and trembling in his grasp. he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, swallowing the desperate little noises you make. his tongue dances with yours, matching the rhythm of the loud music, alsooo, mirroring the rhythm of his hips as he continues to stroke into you, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

# SHIU KONG

he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking marks into your tender skin. “so beautiful,” he murmurs against your flesh, his voice heavy with desire. “i could look at you forever.” his hands slide higher, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your top. he thumbs your nipples, coaxing them to hardness as he teases and plucks at the sensitive buds.

breathless, eyes wide with excitement and guilt as you look around at your secluded spot amidst the bamboo forest. gasp as another wave of pleasure crashes over you from your thick cock stretching your velvet walls. eyes flustered closed while your fingers curled up, wrapping the fabric of his suit around.

“fuck, it feels so good...“ you start moving faster on top of him, riding him harder as the thrill of getting caught only heightens your arousal. you lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, moaning into his mouth as you continue to bounce on his lap, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. “we’re being so naughty out here in the open... what if someone walks by and catches us in the act?” you asked, tone nonchalant so the heartbeat once you pull away.

a low groan escapes shiu’s throat, feels your tight heat gripping his cock tighter with each hard ride. his hands grip your hips, guiding you to fuck yourself on him even deeper— panting heavily, he looks up at you with lust-filled eyes.

“let ’em,” he rasps, his voice husky with desire. “i want everyone to see how badly i’m fucking you right now.” shiu’s fingers dig into your flesh, pulling you down to slam your cunt onto his shaft again and again. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the quiet woods, mixing with your high-pitched moans and his deep growls.

“you’re so goddamn sexy like this,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning across your ear. “riding my dick in public, not giving a damn who sees...” your body trembles as shiu’s words, intensifying the burning need within you. you throw your head back, lost in the ecstasy of being taken so roughly, so publicly. each harsh thrust makes you cry out, your voice carrying through the stillness of the bamboo grove.

“sooo dirty,” you tease between giggling, grinding your clit against him as you impale yourself on his thick cock. your hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing and tugging at your nipples as you continue to ride shiu with wild abandon. leaning down, you capture his lips once more, kissing him deeply as you move, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

shiu meets your fervent kisses with equal passion, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he devours you whole. his large hands roam your curves, squeezing and kneading your supple flesh as he drinks in every moan and whimper that spills from your lips. few seconds and he breaking the kiss to trails his mouth along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. “mmm, such a naughty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with approval. “wants to get caught, huh? wants everyone to know you’re mine.”

shiu’s fingers find their way beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming up your stomach to pinch and roll your hardened nipples. he watches intently as you writhe above him, your breasts bouncing with each frenzied movement. one hand leaves your hip to palm your breast, thumbing your nipple through the fabric of your shirt before slipping beneath to tease the hardened bud directly. you let out a sharp gasp as shiu’s skilled fingers play with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“mmm, feel that, doll?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “your tits are so sensitive, i bet they’d be perfect for my mouth.” the sensation of his warm breath on your skin and his filthy words make you ache for more. “please!” you beg, arching your back to push your chest further into his touch.

with a wicked grin, shiu pulls your shirt up and off, revealing your heaving breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze. he wastes no time, taking one pert nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

you moan loudly, head thrown back in bliss as he lavishes attention on your other breast, pinching and rolling the neglected nipple between his fingers. shiu releases your nipple with a wet pop, leaving it glistening and swollen. he gazes up at you with dark, lustful eyes, his own chest heaving with exertion.

“that’s it, baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire. “make some noise for me. let everyone know how much you love having my cock buried deep inside you.” he punctuates his words with a particularly forceful thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. shiu grins, pleased with himself.

leaning forward, he takes your other nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you’re squirming and mewling above him. his free hand slides down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping lower to rub at your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“you’re so close, aren’t you?”

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Propaganda under the cut

Violet/Jinx:

These sisters are fucking crazy. Little one has literal heart eyes over her cool butch big sister at one point. Butch big sister toxic dates a doppleganger of crazy little sister. Crazy little sister makes it her life's mission to kill said doppleganger. They have a fight there theyre sitting one one another grinding. crazy!!!

If you take one look on the season 2 poster you will get it (though I have not seen it yet so going mostly by season 1). Little sister psychosexually obsessed with older sister. Big sister chronically incapable of not protecting younger sister. Both dependend on the other for their own sense of identity. Jinx takes one look at the sister's love interest and not only goes crazy with jealousy but also tries to make Vi choose between them. They both say the other are the reason they haven't killed themselves in the time things were really bad and they were apart.

Sisters to enemies to lovers, babey

Jinx’s eyes are canonically the shade violet red

Vi’s eyes are canonically the shade powder blue

Vi’s girlfriend has blue eyes (like powder/jinx AND her mother) and blue hair (like powder/jinx AND her mother)

powder/jinx WANTED vi to be the one to kill her. That whole scene where Vi has Jinx pinned and she’s CHOKING HER (gay) and she’s giving these sad wet puppy eyes and tells her that “I’m glad it’s you, it has to be you.”

I don’t know how to send links but that scene from cait’s pov where jinx is blowing in Vi’s ear. LIKE COME ON

Jinx died (fake or not, Vi thinks she’s dead) and a big factor for her dying was that she wanted Vi to be happy and stripped Vi of having to make the choice between her (Jinx) and her gf who looks like her. Like ok queen

"It had to be you."

Klaus/Elijah:

Immortal vampire brothers who have spent a thousand years hurting and loving one another. An elder brother who carries the guilt of not protecting his little brother from the horrors of their childhood and a bastard-child younger brother who considers himself both outcast and judge, jury, and executioner to his siblings’ wrongdoings. Their immortal vow to stand as one, always and forever, has led to a millennium of talking past one another, taking away each other’s loved ones, and, of course plotting the downfall of their enemies together. When faced with death, neither can bear to go alone, and vow instead to die in each other’s arms. Which they do.

They have lived every life possible and yet they can’t escape each other. They have canonically been in love with the same woman at least twice. Elijah falls in love with the woman who Klaus HAD A BABY WITH. Normal brother behavior!!! Klaus begged Elijah to run away with him when they were kids and Elijah is still haunted 1000 years later by the fact that he refused. Elijah once came up with a whole-ass plot to murder Klaus but at the last second couldn’t bring himself to do it and betrayed everybody he allied with to save Klaus instead. They just can’t quit each other!!! And when Klaus is suffering some magical bullshit and has to die, Elijah’s like “yeah I’ll die with you, my life is meaningless without you.” Brothers of all time!

Part of Klaus hates Elijah because he will never be him and his siblings will never love him and respect him the same way (I'm saying siblings, but I really mean Rebekah) but he would also die for him in a heartbeat. He would never admit it but he's living for the attention that Elijah gives him, no matter what kind. He would probably be happy in a polycule with him and his sister if he wasn't chronically paranoid that they actually hate him and want to get rid of him. By which point he punishes them by putting them in a magic coma for a few centuries and bringing their bodies with him everywhere he goes.

https://www.tumblr.com/icebluecyanide/170419680277/dont-speak-to-me-of-elijah-he-loves-you-yes-he

“I need you, brother. The monster in me can only be checked by the monster in you.”

[physalian]

Not every book is meant for you, but all books deserve to find their audience

So back in February I had a pretty nightmarish collision of ideologies with two other writers, one of fanfic, and one also indie published like me.

Both had this weird and aggressive sense of competition over whether a book “deserves” praise.

One of them did explicitly tell me that, among other reluctantly-given reasons like how she, a straight woman, was never going to like a gay romance, and that I could never possibly write something that she would consider worthy of 5 stars. I could tailor-craft a book for her, but against the entire library of all of fiction, I couldn’t ever possibly compare to the greats.

And that to suggest that I deserved 5 was entitled and morally wrong.

The other was about the same, just meaner.

I have never bought a book based off reviews in my life. Reviews are so subject to bias, both intentional in a “I have an agenda against this book here’s 2 stars because it’s queer” way and unintentional in a “I just love this genre and will defend it no matter what even though it’s hot garbage” way that they mean nothing to me.

Most people leaving book reviews aren’t professional critics, they’re just sharing their opinion, and as a picky reader, a majority of strangers’ opinions are irrelevant to me. That, and I can never know which "professionals" are lying out of their ass for profit because I'm not about to do homework on which critics are legit to decide what book I'm going to read. I'll read the summary and decide for myself.

I'll read the reviews for an air fryer I want off Amazon, not someone's weird little passion project that they poured their heart and soul into as a love letter to punk rock and dinosaurs on Mars.

Like I hate ACOTAR, but I hate the very real market and genre distortion it’s been making, not that it has high ratings on Goodreads. It’s all arbitrary, unless you’re too small where that score and how many ratings comprise it matter against the algorithm trying very hard to keep you down.

But I know that I'm an exception, and other people depend very heavily on reviews.

The point I still stand by is this: There is no “deserve” in the realm of art. Who are you to be judge, jury, and executioner on some small, first-time writer’s debut novel?

Who are you to decide what books “deserve” to have a fighting chance and find their audience? You don’t have to read it, you don’t have to like it, but thinking in any way that you’re the fiction police sabotaging work that you don’t like so you have more room for your own “better” work or that you're keeping "lesser" works from tainting your pristine pedestal is some pretentious and elitist bullshit.

There is enough room for all of us and fanfic rules apply: If you don’t like it, don’t read it!

Both of these people could have said “Hey Physh, we didn’t love your work and aren’t comfortable giving you an honest negative review (which they very much were), or a false positive one, so you should ask someone else”.

Instead it was “Oh you want my help? There will be consequences.”

And I could not for the life of me explain that I wasn’t asking them to lie for me. Just, if you don’t have something nice to say… don’t say anything?

I just picked up a book a few days ago by a fellow indie author on impulse. Did I love it? No. Am I going to write them a public review on a platform already stacked against them saying “yeah I mean it was ok but I just didn’t like it”?

No.

Making my dislike of a book that was not meant for me in any way known in a backhanded compliment is not more important, to me, than helping someone in the same shit sandwich as I am market their book to reach someone else who might really enjoy it.

I don't like comedies, by and large. I'm not going to fault a comedy for being unfunny to me when I know damn well that I'm an exception and most other people are crying with laughter. Nor am I going to fault a comedy for being a comedy and not a drama.

I got a very rude awakening thinking we all were on the same page with this.

This book cost me $3 and a few hours of my time when I was already on the clock at work getting paid. I just gave it a shoutout on here. I felt good. They felt good. We’re helping each other.

Gtfo out with your “deserve”.

I tried it, and that’s what matters to me. I’m helping my fellow artist, and that’s what matters to me. Not the impossible standards of measuring up to Charles Dickens or Emily Bronte, of which I never claimed to attempt.

There is enough room for all of us without punching down on people already drowning below you. One nice comment, one little blog post saying “hey this book exists if you like these tropes you might like this” won’t make them an NYT Bestseller overnight.

And for what it’s worth, these two writers’ fanfic opinions were exactly the same. I just didn’t see enough of this before it was too late.

And to be clear, I am a very harsh critic when it’s warranted. Hollywood blockbusters, genre juggernauts, 60-year-old white men’s 100th assembly-line mystery novels.

If I apply that expectation of profoundness and quality on a first-time author, that might very well become their last book. None of us are coming out of the gate with absolute perfection, and there’s only 5 stars to go around. If you're an NYT Bestseller, there's an implicit standard of quality and experience assumed in that honor that you should be meeting and if you're not, here come the critics.

Telling me, a first time author, that I only “deserve” a four because only Tolkein and people like him deserve a five and we can’t water down the concept of fives (read: we can't open the gate for everyone because mine won't be as special as I think it is) is a buckwild hill to die on.

And yes I know 4s are still good, it’s their reason behind the 4 here.

I’m not going to pretend to gush about a novel that I didn’t enjoy. I’m going to examine what it is, what it’s trying to say, and talk about its narrative strengths, its shortcomings, and leave it up to whoever stumbles across my review to decide if they want to buy it.

Because at the very least, the existence of my neutral review will help them more than never saying anything because I got squeamish about having my name attached to a book I find inferior (which I don’t, we’re are just different).

If some bigot on the internet can give you a 1 because you dare to write something that makes his conservative ass twitch, then I can counter-balance it with a lenient 5. The critics can wait until you get big enough to weather their criticism.

[blughxreader]

I know you said "re-connection" was platonic, but reading through it (while giggling impishly), my thought process was: "This is going to end in sex... this HAS to end in sex.... How is this NOT going to end in sex???" And I was pleasantly surprised it didn't. I very much loved it and liked the portrayal of both Dick and Jason. You also made MC into a very interesting character and I've read the fic like 4 times already and still convince myself that it's going to end in sex cause like... have you seen them? Those boys clearly want to plow you (... in a brotherly? fashion /jk)

Yess i think the reason why the fic (and yandere in general) is so good is because the yandere's have one straightforward goal (loving you) that they go about in the most backwards ass way possible

Being stripped down and overpowered and held heavily indicates sex, but... that didn't happen, and that somehow makes it worse.

If they had sexually molested the reader then it would have been for their own benefit (thus easier to blame), but they acted in her interest instead. Very angering and confusing.

Also I REALLY loved Dick and Jason as the yanderes because they have such interesting motives.

Dick is the heart of the Bats, so he strives to maintain inter-relational order. Bruce might be the head of the family but he's fucking awful at subtlety.

Dick is the "let's all watch a movie" to Bruce's "In order to strengthen bonds, we will start an "companion" rotation so you can familiarize yourself with everyone's company. I have 42 follow-up plans depending on how you react after two cycles."

Your resistance to the pack hurt a lot of feelings that Dick's trying to remedy, so it's not just only you he wants to help. The pack needs its sister, and he's going to ensure you join them.

Jason doesn't concern himself with pack unity. Whether you want to join or not, he gets it. BUT that respect goes away when he sees you struggling.

In the fic, he sees you as a conflicted and confused person who's drowning in their own poor decisions.

Let's also not forget that Jason is the judge, jury, and executioner for criminals. He can absolutely reach the point where he makes decisions for you if he deems you unable.

Dick "pack is so important, PLEASE get along" Grayson and Jason "you can live how you want up until you hurt yourself" Todd make a pretty fun team.

AS FOR THE SEXUAL UNDERTONES... guilty teehee. I left it vague on purpose. Also ABO is so sexually charged, it's impossible to escape.

Taboo step sibling romance is hot, but i also prefer to think of batfam in the platonic sense lol. Bon appetite to all y'all who wanna read between the lines tho

[anunkindncss]

LONG-ASS, BAT-SWINGIN’ PSA FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD TRASH DAD (YES YOU MAY REBLOG ME):

i swear to the gods above and the internet demons below, if i have to see one more round of the same tired, petty, high school drama energy in the rpc i am going to start throwing metaphorical furniture. or a bat. maybe a literal bat. someone get me a bat.

we’re gonna talk about a few things i do not understand and am rapidly losing patience for in this little roleplay community of ours. sit down. hydrate. bring a snack. or don’t. i’m not your mom. but i am pissed.

1. BLOCKING PEOPLE BEFORE YOU EVEN KNOW THEM. what are you doing. no, seriously—what are you doing. look. blocking is valid. it’s important. it’s necessary in many cases. but if you are blocking people for… following you? reblogging your promo? writing the same muse? because “they gave me weird vibes” after doing absolutely nothing to you? i’ve got news: you’re not setting boundaries, you’re playing judge, jury, and executioner of vibes you made up in your head. you do not need to block someone just because they exist in the same space as you. curiosity is not a crime. following someone because you share muse interests is not a threat. no one’s out to steal your thunder. we’re all just feral writers clinging to shared hyperfixations like they’re life rafts.

2. THE GREAT REBLOG WAR OF 202X. i promise you, reblogging a post from the person you saw it from is not a personal attack. yes, i agree: try to reblog from the source when you can. it keeps things clean. it helps with credit. we love that. but if someone reblogs from the person who popped up on their dash? that’s not theft. that’s how this damn website works. you’re not losing notes. you’re not being disrespected. you’re seeing a feature function the way it was designed. if it truly matters to you, say it nicely in the post itself. don’t vaguepost. don’t softblock. don’t act like someone pissed on your fic just because they hit reblog from a mutual. some of you treat content circulation like a sacred ritual and lose your minds if the incense is lit out of order. breathe.

3. DNI LISTS THAT ARE LONGER THAN MY WILL TO LIVE. listen. i get it. truly. safety and boundaries are critical. you do not have to interact with everyone. you do not have to let everyone into your space. that’s not what this is about. this is about the weaponized, condescending, high-horse energy of DNI lists that start with “no minors” and end with “people who write canon characters with feelings i disagree with.” what happened to just… blacklisting tags? scrolling? having a spine and a filter? you don’t need to turn your blog into a digital moat. you can just curate your experience quietly. because let me tell you, no one is reading your DNI list like a legal document. they’re reading it and thinking, “damn, this person seems exhausting.”

4. SHITTING ON OTHER WRITERS FOR WRITING THE SAME MUSE DIFFERENTLY. you are not the official licensed owner of your muse. you are not the final word on interpretation. people write characters differently. that’s the beauty of it. that’s literally why roleplay is compelling. because it’s your take. your lens. your experience. if someone writes a softer version of your muse, or a darker one, or a more chaotic one—you can just… not follow them. you don’t need to snark in the tags. you don’t need to start drama in discords. and for the love of god, you don’t need to talk shit behind their back like we’re in some HBO drama. this is tumblr. it’s a hellsite for niche gremlin creativity and emotional trauma bonding. act like it.

IN CONCLUSION, BEFORE I GRAB THE BAT: this place could be so good. so freeing. so collaborative. As a matter of fact... it actually USED TO BE. but y’all keep trying to turn it into a gated community with HOA rules, secret vendettas, and self-appointed sheriff energy. let people exist. let them write. let them breathe. drink water. block quietly. tag your triggers. let go of the need to control every facet of your dash and your mutuals. and for the love of everything sacred and unholy, stop making people feel like they’re one wrong FC or meme reblog away from exile. we're here to write weird little stories and explore weird little feelings through the faces we like and the words we care about.

stop making that feel like a crime.

-Trash (overthepettyandunreasonablebullshit) Dad.

[sha-brytols]

i'd love to hear if your opinion on mythal's depiction in datv changes after reading masked empire. while i do agree that it is disgustingly misogynistic in some respects ("benevolence", the way they took her from chess-master into woman in refrigerator, where is the reckoning??), i don't agree at all that her portrayal as solas' toxic ex is a direct attempt to stoke fandom misogyny in order to appease solavellans or whatever. it was pretty clear after trespasser, and even moreso now that vg is out, that the masked empire is, in broad strokes, meant to be solas' backstory - with Briala as a direct stand-in for solas and Celene as a direct stand in for Mythal. and imho Celene and Briala's delightfully twisted ass relationship is the highlight of the whole book. TME was written before solas was romancable or even decided to be a companion in dai rather than just an npc, so solas/mythal's dynamic was established (by proxy) verrry early into the creation of solas' character, and it comes through in a fair amount in his dialogue in inquisition too. bearing that in mind i don't believe that her role as an antagonistic figure in his story was written in conversation with any sort of fandom response to either character. though i do think that the weird softening of solas' actions(even though they are loudly condemned they are softened) places more culpability upon her as a result, and i do think the refusal to outright state that the relationship is romantic is an attempt to pander to weird fandom amatonormativity.

i feel like i probably didn't explain myself super well LOL it doesnt surprise me it comes across like my issue is necessarily with the toxicity of the relationship, i couldn't really find a way to articulate the nuance. i do agree there were breadcrumbs throughout the games! flemeth as a chronically abusive mother, mythal in the legends as a ruthless judge jury and executioner, mythal's general role in inquisition along with, as you said, the parallels with celene in regards to her relationship with briala. i was always under the assumption that solas' relationship with mythal would be imbalanced At Best so that isn't actually my problem.

my problem is more like. you know using the masked empire comparison — celene, despite literally all of her faults, is still a very sympathetic character in her relationship. like yes as an outsider looking in with an objective viewpoint it is incredibly clear that her actions towards briala are often guided by a deep-seated selfishness and lack of true respect and/or empathy for briala. it is also incredibly clear that the relationship itself is horribly unhealthy and celene uses briala's feelings and love for her to her own advantage repeatedly. however it is ALSO incredibly clear celene is deeply in love with briala. she is just as dependent on briala as briala is on her. she has no sense of self without briala and is genuinely unable to conceive of a life in which they are apart to such a point where she literally can't sleep without briala by her side. and the book does go out of its way to make you understand that this is because and Only because celene genuinely loves and cares for her. it doesn't excuse literally anything she does, it just contextualizes her behavior as being more complicated than just being a pure power-hungry manipulator. her problem lies in the fact that she cares about her goals more than she loves briala.

this got long. sorry.

veilguard doesn't. necessarily Deny this as a factor with solythal. like i dont think they made mythal a complete one dimensional abuser. but i think it does Really Really Really rely on the narrative that mythal was always the antagonist in every aspect of their dynamic. like solas only does ANYTHING EVER because mythal forced him to. every single bad choice he made is mythals fault. tranquilizing the titans? mythal's fault. creating the veil? mythal's fault. destroying the veil? mythal's fault. the only thing he does of his own agency is killing varric and even then i would argue that just by virtue of it being caused by him desperately trying to tear down the veil there is still a narrative that it's ultimately mythal's fault. there's even a really hilarious implication that solas MURDERING MYTHAL is also indirectly her fault because he needed her power to tear down the veil. which he's doing for mythal. it's all mythal. he has absolutely noooooo culpability whatsoever in anything. everytime he does something bad we're shown in his regrets that actually oh he didn't want to do it. he begged mythal not to. she just made him.

going back to brialene, briala does a lot of horrible things in service of celene that she does of her own free will. trying to quietly stifle the elven rebellion by telling the rebels to just quietly look the other way and be good boys while the nobles retaliate against them was all briala's idea. she did it out of concern for celene, but it was still a decision she made of her own volition and was in fact directly in opposition to what celene would have done. like it doesn't change the fact that celene is ultimately the architect of this, but it gives a brutally realistic layer to their dynamic. they are BOTH responsible for the terrible things they do. briala isn't an aggressor or a bad guy or anything, but the reality of crazy codependent relationships like this is that it consumes both people to the point of no return. and we see this sooo many times in the games.

and i get that the masked empire has the privilege of celene's pov to give her more depth, and veilguard is only through solas' eyes so that would color everything, but i still don't think that really explains or excuses why it's taken to the extent it is. leliana and justinia for example have a very similar relationship as the one described here. justinia was a powerful figurehead that leliana adored and whom shaped leliana into her own personal weapon that ultimately destroyed leliana's life. we even have a very similar conclusion to solas' story with mythal where justinia eventually "releases" leliana from her services and leliana can finally Breathe. but the big difference between these two is that leliana still ultimately makes every choice of her own volition. she does what justinia tells her because she *believes* in justinia and justinia's cause. justinia never has to strongarm her. justinia never has to beg, coerce, or even order leliana to do anything, because leliana believes in the same thing as her and would do anything she says because of that belief. even leliana's "freedom" is ultimately her own decision: she can choose to just NOT stop following the path she's been set on, even when the one pulling her strings lets her go, because there are certain runs where her belief in her mission is so strong that even without a master, she'll still continue the fight on her own.

solas doesn't have any of that. solas begs mythal not to make him do anything bad and only does it because she told him to and then he hates himself for it. there is absolutely zero room for interpretation that this could possibly be his choice, that he is even remotely willing, even just for his own goals, to go through with any of the terrible decisions he makes. he is always the victim in every single perspective of the narrative and mythal is always the perpetrator. this is only strengthened when veilguard outright tells you that the only way to ever make solas give up is by having mythal tell him to. no nuance. there was never any way to stop him because he was never truly capable of making that choice himself, it was only because mythal LETS him that he was able to.

and at the end of the day i do think this is partially motivated by a desire to have an easy explanation for solavellan shippers as to why the romance was doomed. "he always loved you! he would have stopped for you! he just literally physically couldn't! mythal's the one you have to be angry at, not solas! it was all her!" i also just fundamentally believe that if the devs truly didn't see solas and mythal's relationship as romantic then that specific topic literally would have never been brought up because it's literally useless for the story. "were solas and mythal fucking? haha. maybe. no they weren't lol." like ok. thank you. net zero information gained. why was this even mentioned if they didnt want people to at the very least entertain the possibility? 😭 like it comes up BECAUSE mythal calls him "love" like it's such an awkwardly forced line that literally only exists so that the characters can be like woah... solas and mythal.... love? she doesn't even call him that again its sofjsotnsotnnsifmzktkxmg

but yeah 💔 solythal codependent relationship would have been hotsexy if it played out more like the way it was set up to be, i don't want to give the impression that i hate the concept. it was the execution that felt very weird and disingenuous

[pascalispunkczechia]

Rules I Break For Him 7

Masterlist for this fic here

I suck in a breath. Trying to process whatever the fuck Javi just dropped on me. Vanessa. That local chick… some random girl working in a sketchy-ass brothel. And the cherry on top? He straight-up left his actual girlfriend at the fucking altar. Like, are you serious right now?

This man - who walks around like nothing phases him - used to actually care about someone. Until he just… didn’t. Then it was flings. Then Vanessa. And now I show up and suddenly he’s in confession mode?

I toss back the whiskey like it owes me money. Burns all the way down. Good. Maybe it’ll shut the screaming in my head the fuck up. He’s right there. Just… watching. Not saying a word. Waiting. Like I’m the goddamn judge, jury, and executioner.

“Uh…” I choke out, immediately hating myself. “So, like… with Vanessa. And all the others. You used condoms, right?”

His whole body jolts like I slapped him. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Always. I’d never… fuck. You don’t need to worry.”

“Shit, sorry,” I mumble, feeling like a bitch. “Didn’t mean it like that. I just…” Ugh. What even is this conversation? What did I think he’d say? That he’s been a born-again virgin waiting just for me? Please. I knew it’d be messy. I just hoped it wouldn’t be this messy.

But truth is? I trust him. God knows why, but I do. And the dumbest fucking part? Somewhere deep in my chest, I want to matter to him. More than anyone else ever did.

I look him straight in the eye. And he just sits there. Looking wrecked. Like some dumb kid who got caught sneaking cookies before dinner. Like he’s scared I’ll just… leave.

I don’t. I reach for his hand. Squeeze it. “Thanks for being honest. Really.” Still wanna ask, why me? Why now? But before I can open my mouth, he moves.

His hands are on my face. Warm. Rough. Familiar. They smell like him - soap, sweat, and something else I can’t name. Then he leans in. And boom… my stomach goes full nuclear butterfly meltdown. Fuck. I hate how much I want this.

I think he’s about to kiss me. But nope. Of course not. He opens his damn mouth and starts talking. “You know… the reason I’m telling you all this is ‘cause I want you to really know who I am. So you can… like… decide for yourself.”

Wait. What? I blink. Hard. What the fuck is he even saying?

He keeps going: “’Cause these last few days? You’ve started to mean something to me. Like… way more than I thought anyone could. You pull me out of all the shit I’m stuck in. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be blackout drunk somewhere, passed out in some shitty bar. But now? I actually look forward to your stupid smile. Your arms. Fuck. This isn’t even me. What the hell are you doing to me?!” He laughs, but it’s awkward as hell. His hands drop from my face.

And I just sit there like he slapped me with a goddamn love confession. I’m important to him? Did that really just happen? My whole body’s like ??? and my brain’s glitching. I wanna scream. Or cry. Or throw up glitter. What even is this feeling?

I grab his hands without thinking. They’re huge. A little rough. Gun-callused. I hold them like they’re the only solid thing keeping me grounded. “I… I feel the same,” I blurt out, before my heart explodes. “Like… what the fuck is this? We’ve known each other for five minutes and suddenly I can’t go a day without seeing you. I came here to work. No distractions. Be a badass, whatever. But now?” I look straight at him. “Fuck it. I want you around. All the time. You make me feel like I can actually breathe. Like I’m… safe. For real.” And there. It’s out. Laid bare. No take-backs.

He smiles. And holy shit - that smile! The rare, soft, totally unfair Javier Peña smile. Hits me right in the soul.

“I feel the same, baby,” he says, voice all low and rough. “I just… don’t always know how to be good at this.”

“Shhh,” I whisper, pressing a finger to his lips. “Good thing there’s two of us then, huh?”

I kiss him - hard. And he’s on me just as fast. Lips crashing into mine, tongue sliding against mine like it owns the damn place. It’s messy, hot, slow, so fucking deep. He’s kissing me like I’m breakable and he still can’t help himself. His hands slide under my thighs and suddenly I’m in his lap, legs wrapped around him, our bodies locked together like we forgot how to be separate.

I moan into his mouth and he growls - low and rough - before pulling back, barely. There’s something hard pressing against my stomach. And yeah, no surprise what that is.

He pushes my hair out of my face, buries his nose in my neck and inhales like a man unhinged. “You smell like coconut again. I swear I’m getting fucking addicted.”

“Yeah?” I whisper. “That’s how your smell fucks me up too.”

Then - chomp. He bites my collarbone. Not brutal, but definitely enough to make me gasp. And of course, he licks the same spot right after. Because he’s evil like that. And we both groan like we’re losing our damn minds. His fingers slip under the straps of my tank and off it goes. Gone. I’m not wearing a bra, obviously, and now I’m basically naked in his lap and he’s just looking. Forehead to forehead. His eyes drop down, and he goes still. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters. “You always kill me with this.”

Then his thumb ghosts over my nipple. Just once. Teasing as hell. I whimper like a goddamn warning shot. He circles. Squeezes. Groans. Then cups my whole breast in his hand like he’s claiming it.

I whine. Loud. Zero shame. All need.

And yep - he gets it. His hands trail down my stomach, slow and warm. He gently pushes me back into the couch cushions to make space, then pulls off my shorts and panties in one smooth motion. He starts unbuttoning his own pants, sliding them down. I watch him hungrily and slide my finger across my clit, slow and deliberate.

“Oh really?” he purrs, pupils blown wide, gaze wild. He tosses his pants aside and leans over me.

Frustration hits me like a truck, he’s still wearing those goddamn boxers, while I’m already completely naked. But judging by the way he’s straining against the fabric, those boxers won’t be staying on much longer.

He kisses me again. Slow. Fucking tender. Like he’s trying to win an award for ‘Softest Tongue in a Leading Role’. His hands slide over my knees, prying my legs apart like it’s the most casual thing in the world. His fingers? Straight-up electricity. Crawling up the inside of my thighs like they’ve got one damn mission, blow me up from the inside. And yeah, mission fucking accomplished. I suck in a sharp breath. Then his fingers find my clit. Just find it like they’ve got GPS, and he starts drawing circles like he’s sketching my death. My own fingers get nudged away like: ‘Nice try, babe, daddy’s got this.’

My whole pussy throbs like it’s synced with a drumline. I dig my nails into the couch like it’ll save me. “Don’t stop. Just… whatever the fuck you’re doing, keep doing it. Please.” I’m begging. No shame.

He laughs. Bastard. Breathless, smug. His thumb presses harder and my head lolls back like I’m possessed. He watches me like it’s a goddamn science experiment. Then he taps one finger at my entrance. Teasing little fucker. Meanwhile, his thumb’s still doing god’s work on my clit.

“You’re torturing me,” I pant and yank him closer. And he kisses me like he’s trying to shut me up. That’s when he slides one finger in. Then two. Smooth. Deep. Precise. My thighs start to shake, and I’m grinding against his hand like I’m trying to fuse with him.

And he’s just there. Smiling. Smug again. His thumb’s going faster. I’m panting harder. My pussy clenches around his fingers, and he moves them, curling like he knows exactly where to hit. We moan together. Yeah. That kind of moment.

And then I come. Hard. Violent. I grab his shoulders and claw down his back like I’m falling off a cliff and he’s the only thing keeping me from disintegrating.

And it’s just his fingers! Just. His. Fucking. Fingers. They’re perfect. Long. Calloused in just the right way. Like they were custom-built for me. But maybe it’s not just that. Maybe it’s because five minutes ago we basically dumped our emotions on the floor and now there’s nothing holding us back. Just him and me. Raw.

“I wanna do this every fucking day,” he mutters into my jaw, kissing me like I’m a secret he can’t keep.

And I’m still lying there, brain in orbit, and I suddenly realize - I came. He didn’t. I didn’t even touch him. Goddammit!

He doesn’t look pissed though. In fact, he looks like he just won a prize. Even with that massive bulge still caged in his boxers. I get caught staring. And of course he notices. He smirks. Peels the boxers off.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. He’s hard, thick, gorgeous. Still gets me every time.

I moan. Loud. His dick brushes my stomach and I reach for him like my life depends on it. My hand wraps around him. Slow strokes. Teasing. Controlling.

His eyes flutter, his hips twitch. I pick up the pace, then slow again. Then up. Then down. I’m toying with him and loving it. He groans - deep, wrecked. “I wanna fuck you, baby,” he growls into my hair.

I nod. Barely breathing. My body’s screaming YES. Don’t ask how I’m still functional after that orgasm. I shouldn’t be. But hey… Javi’s a fucking sex god. And apparently, I’m his personal temple.

It’s fucking beautiful, having him over me. I wrap my arms around his neck, tilt my chin up, kiss him like I own his mouth. He pushes me deeper into the damn couch, like he’s trying to leave a dent of me in the cushions. He spreads my legs or maybe I do. Who the fuck knows. His cock presses against my stomach first, then slides down, between my legs. The tip lines up. My breath catches. And then he pushes in. First just the head. Then all of it.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s big… yeah. But somehow, he fits like he was fucking designed for me. Like we were made to fuck. Exactly like this.

He fills me so completely I swear my soul short-circuits. My whole body’s buzzing. He starts moving… slow, deep strokes. Lifts me up into this half-sitting position that makes everything hit harder. Deeper.

I move my hips like I’m chasing something. Like if I don’t ride this out, I’ll die. His hands are on my back, gripping me, dragging me closer, fucking into me like he means it. I’m moaning like a goddamn porn star. No shame. Not even a little. He’s panting. His skin slick against mine. My body’s tightening around him like it knows exactly what to do. One hand trails down my back. The other grabs my ass, hard.

And then he slams into me. Deep. Hard. All the fucking way.

I feel it the second he loses it. His dick twitches hard inside me, and then he’s groaning. “Fuck, baby!” Right into my shoulder.

Heat floods me. Fucking fills me.

He bites down on my collarbone, like I’m the only thing tethering him to Earth. Like he needs to remind himself I’m real. I’m here. I’m his. His body shudders, low and rough. I hold him through it, feel every last twitch of him finishing inside me, and think: Holy shit. This man. This fucking man is gonna ruin me.

I can tell he just came harder than ever before - with me. The way his whole body shook. The way his cock twitched so deep inside me it left me breathless. And somehow, that thought alone sends me straight over the edge. I clench around him, hard, soaking him in the aftershocks of my own orgasm. Now it’s him holding me.

We stay like that for a while. Just breathing. Skin on skin. Not talking. And then we start to peel away from each other… slow, sticky, fucked-out. We both laugh. It’s the kind of laugh that comes from complete satisfaction and exhaustion. Javi’s laugh is light and soft, and fuck, I wanna hear that sound every damn day.

“Thank you,” he says after a beat. His voice is low, a little hoarse.

I glance up at him. “For what?”

“For all of it,” he murmurs. “For not running off screaming tonight. For believing in me.” He kisses me. Pulls me into his arms.

I press my lips to his shoulder, then whisper: “Thank you for being here. For not letting the darkness take you again.”

He pulls a blanket over us. We curl up on the couch, tangled and warm. And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe. Really fucking safe.

Three Months Later

Javi and I… we’re still getting to know each other more and more every day. Whatever that thing was between us at the start? Yeah, now it’s a relationship. A real one. It’s still fresh for both of us. Javier hasn’t had a serious girlfriend since Texas, years ago. And me? I’m just trying to remember how the fuck to trust someone again.

But goddamn, these past three months? They’ve been good. Like really fucking good. The passion hasn’t died down… if anything, it’s gotten more intense. We spend all the time we can together.

Everyone at the base knows we’re a thing now. Maybe it’s because we’re in South America and not some puritanical corner of the States, but no one seems to give a shit that the boss is banging one of her agents. Okay, yeah - there were a couple of dumb-ass jokes. But mostly? People respect it. Probably because we’re still professionals on the job. This is DEA - if you don’t act like a damn professional, you’re out. No room for bullshit.

As for Cali — we made progress. We actually got one of the narco bosses locked up. But of course, nothing’s ever that easy. Now we’re realizing just how deep the corruption runs: local cops, politicians, you name it. They’re all on someone’s payroll.

I’m standing in my office, staring at our board, where the Cali network is mapped out like some fucked-up spiderweb. I’m wearing a blazer and skirt. Tight. Formal. Distracting even to me.

“Babe?” Javi knocks on the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. “We gotta go.”

He kisses me… soft, quick, but fuck, he still tastes like heaven. He always does. He’s in a navy suit. With a tie. A fucking tie. Great. That’s real fucking helpful, Javier. How the hell am I supposed to focus now? Seriously - I still can’t believe a guy like him actually chose me.

“I’m coming,” I say with a weak smile and brush some imaginary dust off his shoulder. “I’m just… a little nervous, that’s all.” And yeah, I have a damn good reason.

We’re supposed to be at the U.S. embassy in Bogotá today. Remember Diego? My ex? The one who cheated on me and humiliated me so thoroughly the entire fucking embassy whispered about it for weeks? Yeah. He still works there. So do the rest of the people who were there when it all went down. And now we have to go in, smile like good little agents, and talk to them about evidence tied to police and political corruption in Colombia. Just great.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Javi says, ever the calm one. “We’re going for work. Not even guaranteed you’ll run into him. And besides, who the hell’s gonna mess with my boss, who took down one of Cali’s top fucking bosses?” He throws me a wink like it’s nothing.

We don’t do secrets between us, not anymore. I told him everything about Diego. Let’s just say Diego’s not exactly Javier’s favorite person on this planet. I scrunch up my nose and make a face at him. He chuckles. He takes my hand in his, firm, grounding, and leads me out of the office. We walk out of the station, climb into the car, and hit the road to Bogotá.

Later in Bogotá

“Good morning,” the senator greets us with a handshake. “Take a seat.” She gestures to the chairs across from her. We sit.

I remember this room, spent more hours in here than I care to admit.

She cuts straight to the chase. They’re not planning to interfere with our work in Cali, of course not… but we should really be careful about the kind of accusations we plan to throw around in front of U.S. authorities. Javi and I exchange a look. Yeah. This is bad. Really fucking bad. As if this day couldn’t get worse - now it turns out even the fucking U.S. embassy might be compromised. Perfect.

“So,” the senator goes on. “I’ll assign agent Ramirez to your team. He’ll travel to Cali with you today and evaluate the situation from the embassy’s perspective.”

I feel a chill crawl up my neck. No. No fucking way. Did she just say Ramirez?

Javi glances at me, brow tightening. I can tell he’s about to say something - probably something sharp - but then there’s a knock at the door.

And the bastard walks in. Diego. Light brown hair, blue eyes, average height. With a sharp surge of satisfaction, I note he’s a good half a head shorter than Javier. And that belly? Yeah. That’s what you get when you spend your days rotting behind a desk, loser.

“Hello,” he says with that smug little sweep of the eyes, like he’s trying to measure what he lost.

A hell of a lot, asshole. Though, judging by the look of him now - I didn’t lose a damn thing. “Diego,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

Javi rises from his chair and towers over him without saying a word. Dominance doesn’t need volume.

“You must be Agent Peña, I assume?” Diego’s voice has that edge - sharp, but fragile.

“That’s right,” Javi says smoothly, flashing a smile that’s all teeth and zero warmth.

“Pleasure,” Diego grunts, eyeing him up with blatant disdain.

Oh, he hates this. Diego always hated not being the only guy in the room women drooled over. And right now, Javier Peña is sucking up every last molecule of attention like a black hole.

“Guess we should get moving,” I cut in, slicing through the rising tension like a damn scalpel. “Agent Ramirez, are you taking your own car or relying on DEA transport?”

“I’ll ride with you,” he replies, lifting the gym bag he brought in and slinging it over his shoulder. Of course he will.

We say goodbye to the senator and walk out.

We pile into the car - Javi behind the wheel, me in the passenger seat, Diego climbing into the back like a third wheel that no one asked for. His bag goes in the trunk. And yep - the entire drive, I can feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head through the rearview mirror.

“We’re stopping at Hotel Casablanca, right?” Javi tosses the question over his shoulder as we get closer to town. Cali’s maybe five klicks out now.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Diego answers flatly.

A few minutes later, we pull up to the hotel. It’s about a five-minute walk from the DEA base, but since we’re headed home, we’ve still got about fifteen more minutes to go.

“Here we are,” Javi says under his breath, already reaching for the door controls like he’s ejecting a virus from the vehicle.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow,” Diego mumbles and hops out, slamming the door behind him.

The moment the door shuts, the air in the car clears like we’ve been released from a goddamn pressure chamber.

“Finally,” I sigh, not bothering to hide it.

“My thoughts exactly. I was starting to worry the trip would never end.” Javi lets out a breath and shoots me a side glance as he pulls away from the curb. Tires roll. Engine hums. We drive home. Thank. Fucking. God.

We stop the car and head inside. My place tonight. We were at his yesterday. That’s kind of how we do it - we switch. And it works. But in the past three months? There hasn’t been a single night we’ve spent apart. Not one.

The second we’re through the door, a rush of affection hits me out of nowhere. I wrap my arms around Javi’s shoulders and hold him tight. Lately I feel like I’m overflowing. Like I’m bleeding love at the seams. But those two words - I love you - we haven’t said them. Not yet. Maybe it’s still too soon? I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it right now.

“Those suits look good on you,” I say, running my fingers over the lapels of his jacket. I tilt my face up and lock eyes with him. Yeah. I know what gets to him. I’ve had three months to figure out every damn switch on this man.

“You look good, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as he grabs my hands and kisses me. Mmm. Yep. Nailed it.

I kiss him back, slide my hands free from his, and slowly slip his jacket off his shoulders. While I’m doing that, he’s already unraveling my bun. The jacket lands on the couch. I keep my eyes on him as my fingers untie his tie - muscle memory now. I toss the tie onto the bed behind us. Might need it later.

“Hm,” he breathes out, amused, as his hands go to my blazer and toss it aside too. Then his palms are on my face. And he’s kissing me again. His breath tastes like mint and a hint of cigarette smoke - Javi’s signature cocktail.

Next, his hands are on my white blouse, fingers slipping one button open after another. The fabric slides off my shoulders and drops to the floor.

I shoot him a playful look. He grins and then lifts me like it’s nothing. My legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me to the bed. He sits down. I straddle him. And I start unbuttoning his shirt now.

That chest. God, that chest! I love every inch of this man. Just don’t want to say it before he does. But I shut that thought down fast… no time for emotional spirals.

I press kisses from his lips down to his neck. I can feel his pulse there, beating hard beneath my mouth. His breath turns ragged. His hands are all over my back, unclasping my bra. It slips off and hits the floor. He cups one of my breasts in his hand and smirks.

Yeah. There’s already a hard bulge forming in his pants. And we’re just getting started! “Hmm, so ready for me, agent Peña?” I whisper into his ear, voice low and filthy.

He scoops me up like it’s the easiest fucking thing in the world and stands with me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist again, clinging tight. He turns, lowers me gently onto the bed but I don’t let go. My legs stay locked around him, keeping him pressed tight against me. Chest to chest. Heat to heat. He’s not going anywhere.

His hands run down my thighs and hips. I spread my legs, slowly. He pulls my skirt and panties down in one motion and tosses them on the floor like they’re nothing. I’m naked again. At his mercy. I squirm underneath him, already aching for more.

Javier smirks. He picks up the tie I threw onto the bed earlier, the one I knew would come in handy. And yeah. It does. He gently wraps it around my wrists. “You good, bejby?” he asks, voice low, teasing.

“You know I am,” I purr.

He knows. We’ve tried this once before, a few weeks back, in the middle of our three-month-long getting-to-know-each-other phase. Let’s just say… I’ve got a thing for neckties.

Sure, I can’t touch him the way I usually need to but letting him have full control? Yeah. I’ll take that. Once in a while. Other times I’m probably all over him too much. But right now? Right now I can’t believe this man, this dangerous, hot, tie-wielding motherfucker, is mine.

He lowers himself between my parted thighs and starts kissing the inside of them, slowly, like he’s got all fucking night. Tiny kisses, one by one, closer and closer, until he finally gets there. When I feel his tongue press against my clit, I throw my head back, eyes shut, hips arching off the couch.

Fuck. I love this. Everything else disappears. Diego, that damn embassy visit - gone. All I can feel is Javi’s tongue and every fucking thing he’s about to do to me.

NEXT CHAPTER HERE

FOR MORE FICS -> MASTERLIST

[kkeidawrites]

The Return

Previous Chapter<<>>Next Chapter

Chp. 6

¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥

Y/n makes a face in disbelief at their bold suggestion.

“I’d rather stand. And another thing, can you get your shoes off of my recliner? Not only is it white but I hate when people wear their outside shoes on furniture.” She says annoyed.

She hears a deep chuckle leave them and actually takes their shoes off her chair.

“You’re probably one of the many sane rich people in this city, yet here you are living pretty well in midtown Gotham.” He continues and Y/n makes a face.

“Look, I still pay the high ass rent in this part of town, I don’t attend social clubs, I don’t work for a corrupt company, I’m literally an average citizen just trying to survive.” Y/n tells them.

“Yes, and you do a bit of detective work as well?” They ask and Y/n scoffs indifferently.

“I’m not sure why that’s any of your business.” Y/n bites.

“All I’m saying is why live in a city where you have to do that yourself? Why not leave? You live in a city where its own law enforcement has to depend on a man in a bat suit.”

“The hell that got to do with me?”

“I’m saying with how you live so frugally, you could live anywhere else other than Gotham. What’s making you stay?” They stand up now and come into the limelight of the moon shining through her large glass windows.

They were wearing a metal suit, no doubt built in tech and even had bat ears on their helmet.

“Like you’re one to talk about a man in a bat suit, you’re pretty much dressed like the dark knight as well. Just full on metal and tech, what’s the difference between you and him?” Y/n asked.

Why was she asking this person so many questions, she should be trying to get a hold of the police but, something in her gut was telling her not to.

They walk over to her coffee table and stop just a few feet from her. She raises a brow in confusion, why were they closer now?

“You’re not scared.”

“I have bigger and better things to be scared of.” She tells them and they chuckle once again.

“Who are you? You’re not the many fools that I have seen run around this city, you must be new.” She deduced.

“You’ll find out sooner or later doll, for now, I’m just here to warn you about what’s going to happen in this area in the next couple of days.” They say walking towards her windows.

“And what would that would be?”

“The two apartment buildings down from you is going to be bombed,” Y/n’s eyes widen and an angry frown is immediately replaced.

“What-“

“I’m suggesting that you make yourself scarce during that time and if you can try and leave town.” They say pressing a button on their wrist and Y/n walks up to them.

“Why are you only telling me this? Why not tell the other people in the two apartments?” She demands.

“You want to tell the people who dabble in drugs, gangs, and fights to evacuate? Is it worth it to do such a thing?” They ask.

“Is it worth-look I don’t know who the hell you think you are to think you can play judge, jury, and executioner but this city has done enough to one another that almost everyone in this city has lost a loved one. You not telling the people about what is going to happen is worth it to save people.” Y/n says angrily.

“You think that all life is worth saving?”

“Yes!” She yells.

She looks back at the photo frame and presses a hand to her chest, turning to them

“I’ve lost someone dear to me that I’ve been searching for them since they’ve been gone and I’ve never stopped trying to find them. So yeah, everyone should have a chance to be saved.” She adds and walks back to her coffee table picking up her treasured picture frame.

“I made a promise to myself to do everything in my power to find him and I won’t give up until I have my answers.”

The metal vigilante looks her over again then continues walking out her glass window doors to stand on her balcony outside.

“You do good work, doll. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” They say and jump off her balcony onto the building across from hers.

Waiting a few minutes to see if anyone else was going to make a grand appearance at her balcony, Y/n takes out her phone from her robe and dials Barbara.

“Babs, someone just broke into my condo. I need a wing to flap this way.” Y/n says bored.

Barbara is heard on the line fussing in worry and panic making Y/n look back at the window.

“I’m fine, they didn’t want anything but they did ask me a lot of pointless questions. They even warned me about a bombing that’s going to happen to the two apartment buildings down from where I live.”

She listens as Barbara promises to send Nightwing to her and pleads with her to stay put.

“I’ll be finishing up my hair by the time Dick gets here. Thanks Babs.” She hangs up and sets her picture frame back on the coffee table.

Unbeknownst to her, a manga was missing from her pile of memorabilia and in the hands of her recent visitor, currently watching her at a nice distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy holidays and enjoy the new part!

Be sure to like, comment, share, and reblog!

[mineonmain]

as @lurkingshan said earlier today, "Get bent, Maya"

I haven't been this pressed about a fictional character (antagonist???? she is one to me now!!) in a hot minute. Before I get into her in this ep, I wanna preface by saying that I do have the actual manga, but I wanted to finish watching the show before I went and read the manga for comparison, so that i'm going into this with basically an open mind. So I have no idea how this compares to the manga version of her.

Also if it wasn't clear, Spoilers for I Hear The Sunspot ep 7. Okay.

So it's the start of a new academic year, and we're introduced to freshman Maya, who is a Science major, is also Deaf/Hard of Hearing, and is Kohei's new tutee in the university as a result of having a mutual friend. That is the extent of what we know about her. Other than Kohei being her tutor and maybe a pseudo mentor/companion who can understand and appreciate her disability, they have absolutely no connection. They are not childhood friends or family.

Which begs the question, why on gods green earth is she so invested in what Kohei does or doesn't do, and who he is or isn't with???

Lady, he doesn't know you. He doesn't owe you anything, because you objectively mean nothing to him. So you've grown up with a really severe and isolating disability, I get it. But that's not a good enough reason to become so bitter that you decide to become judge jury executioner on every (visibly) abled person's morals. (Which is so incredibly telling, judging people on how visibly disabled they look or act, when you have a disability that is fairly invisible, unless you can see hearing aids or a cochlear implant or something like that. Interesting how that works, huh.) (Having a disability doesn't give you a free pass to be an asshole.)

Maybe, just maybe, you're allowed to act like that based on how people act towards you. But what gives you the right to walk up to the friend of a friend (??) that you absolutely know nothing about, and mete out judgement? To decide how that person is allowed to interact with someone else, a someone else that you have no claim or authority over?

Oh, but god forbid that Kohei have a friend who doesn't treat him like a social leper, who doesn't have every interaction of theirs revolve around Kohei's deafness, who for once makes him feel included and normal.

Kohei is a grown ass man, who can make his own decisions, including his own mistakes. Who are you to suddenly come into his life and make decisions for him without his involvement, consent, or approval? And who says that any person who is friends with someone with a disability has to be physically and morally perfect?

How dare you?

If I were to sum up my biggest issues with Maya, it is in the way she talks. It's entirely indicative and reflective of how she views and interacts with society. One of the first things that Kohei tells Taichi is that he is able to understand what someone else is saying if they speak slowly, partially by listening and partially by lip reading. it's a small accommodation that we even see Taichi's friends making for Kohei. That means that when anyone talks they should talk clearly, and slowly, and try to enunciate their words properly. If we look at the way Maya talks, she barely opens her mouth at all. If I didn't know any better i'd have thought it was ADR. Given she is someone who has lived with the same sort of disability that Kohei has, she would require similar accessibility needs. And yet, while she expects the world around her to accommodate her needs, she doesn't accommodate for the world. She expects people to speak in a way that she can understand, but she won't do the same.

I'm assuming that the narrative point of Maya criticising Taichi right now is so that we get to see him go on a growth journey, where he'll become more passionate and dedicated about learning note-taking and even maybe signing (and advocating for the deaf community as an ally), and not just be a passive friend who seemingly 'takes advantage' of Kohei, and in the process become the person that Kohei truly needs, and not the person Taichi thinks is good enough.

But here's the thing. I don't care if Taichi has any growth or not. I don't care if he changes or doesn't change to maintain his friendship and relationship with Kohei. I don't care if he tries to become someone that Maya (and Kohei) can approve of.

Because Kohei already likes him the way he is.

And it's none of Maya's goddamn business. Get bent

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 1

Propaganda under the cut:

Klaus/Elijah:

Immortal vampire brothers who have spent a thousand years hurting and loving one another. An elder brother who carries the guilt of not protecting his little brother from the horrors of their childhood and a bastard-child younger brother who considers himself both outcast and judge, jury, and executioner to his siblings’ wrongdoings. Their immortal vow to stand as one, always and forever, has led to a millennium of talking past one another, taking away each other’s loved ones, and, of course plotting the downfall of their enemies together. When faced with death, neither can bear to go alone, and vow instead to die in each other’s arms. Which they do.

They have lived every life possible and yet they can’t escape each other. They have canonically been in love with the same woman at least twice. Elijah falls in love with the woman who Klaus HAD A BABY WITH. Normal brother behavior!!! Klaus begged Elijah to run away with him when they were kids and Elijah is still haunted 1000 years later by the fact that he refused. Elijah once came up with a whole-ass plot to murder Klaus but at the last second couldn’t bring himself to do it and betrayed everybody he allied with to save Klaus instead. They just can’t quit each other!!! And when Klaus is suffering some magical bullshit and has to die, Elijah’s like “yeah I’ll die with you, my life is meaningless without you.” Brothers of all time!

Part of Klaus hates Elijah because he will never be him and his siblings will never love him and respect him the same way (I'm saying siblings, but I really mean Rebekah) but he would also die for him in a heartbeat. He would never admit it but he's living for the attention that Elijah gives him, no matter what kind. He would probably be happy in a polycule with him and his sister if he wasn't chronically paranoid that they actually hate him and want to get rid of him. By which point he punishes them by putting them in a magic coma for a few centuries and bringing their bodies with him everywhere he goes.

https://www.tumblr.com/icebluecyanide/170419680277/dont-speak-to-me-of-elijah-he-loves-you-yes-he

“I need you, brother. The monster in me can only be checked by the monster in you.”

Rick/Morty:

Grandpa/grandson interdimensional soulmates. Literally canonically Rick genetically engineered Morty to be his perfect companion and replacement wife.

Morty canonically desperate for the approval of his grandpa, ignoring his faults and the toxic dynamics as long as he gets to feel like the ‘favorite’? While also being horny? Morty and Rick even have a magical threesome at some point which they seem so blaze about it feels like them fucking on an adventure has happened before.

theyre pretty much canon. they got married. give grandpa a kiss

[missmiseryguts]

I kinda just wanna offer something I keep thinking about cause I keep relistening to the ost, mu has "judge, jury, and executioner" as her castle theme (not the final fight), and idk why but I keep thinking of the hood equivalent as "see no, speak no, hear no evil" and I can't explain why, maybe she's just so tunnel visioned by her goals and trauma she doesn't see how much bad she's causing like literally not seeing not speaking not hearing of her evils I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT AND GET THAT IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD LMAO

Grips you tightly by the shoulders and rattles you like a salt shaker TAKE MY MONEY AND THIS DOODLE I COULDNT BE ASSED TO FINISH BASED OFF OF THIS

Theres this one song that kinda goes like this.. it's called false idol it goes like 'speak no, hear no. see no evil, no no, do, no no, do the evil' and it was really good actually i should add it to the hood kid playlist WHICH IS NOW AT 57 SONGS WOOOOOO MU CLOSE BEHIND WITH 54 I THINK WHEEYYY

Anyways I fucking LOVE THIS SO MUCH OH MY GOD YES YES YES YES YES RATTLING YOU RN LVKSFHSJHFHAFHSIFISH

[magicalbats]

Penance (Suguru x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 8962

Warnings: afab!reader, hamfisted religious themes, rimming, ass eating as punishment, themes of humiliation/degradation/ objectification, some gendered language, reader is not privileged with an orgasm (rip)

A/N: I spent some time going through my WIPs tonight and after giving this one a quick proof read I decided to just go ahead and post it. I have, no joke, been sitting on it since 2021. lmao I think it might be time.

⭐

“That’s a rather sharp tongue you’ve got, isn’t it?” Suguru’s voice is soft and pointed, all understated elegance and quiet laughter that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He extends one long hand towards you; curls the fingers under your chin and tilts your face up with a deceptively gentle nudge so you have no choice but to look directly at him. 

There is nothing soft about the expression staring back at you, even for as placid as it is. The tension pulling at the corner of his mouth gives his small smile a razor's edge, so indescribably minuscule you would have missed it had you not been sitting so close and that was to say absolutely nothing of the forged steel glint in his dark irises. It was funny, almost. That he should accuse you of having a sharp tongue when he was all carefully filed edges and beautifully cast steel that had survived hundreds of blazing infernos just to become the living embodiment of an executioner's sword looming over you in the here and now. 

He was the judge, the jury and the butcher all wrapped into one neat, perfectly coiffed package with a smile and a kind word to spare, and you would have followed him to any stretch of this world or the next for even a sliver of that double edged approval. Even knowing the danger he posed to you and everyone like you, his subtle threats so politely concealed yet plain as day to anyone who paid enough attention. Even knowing how lethal his very existence was, you would still willfully lay yourself across that altar and fulfill your role as the sacrificial lamb he always seemed to be searching for. 

No, not in spite of it. 

Because of it. 

Faintly humming as if in thought, he turns your face this way and that, still with the tips of his fingers touching the spot under your chin just so. It’s a featherlight mockery of suggestion rather than outright demand but you obediently follow the motion as if there were magnets stuck in your skin, guiding you where his hand was not. Silently, you beg the blood that pounds wildly in your ears to subside so you can hang onto every word that drips from his poisoned mouth unhindered. 

“You know … I’m inclined to say it’s not very ladylike, especially for someone of your impeccable breeding, but. Well.” A pause while he studies your profile in silent contemplation before finally directing your attention back around with a brief, lingering tap that makes you swallow. “I suppose it’s not entirely without its charm. That being said, I do believe there are some better uses we could put it to that don’t involve lashing out at others, hm? Wouldn’t you agree?” 

You shrivel under his guillotine stare as well as the sweetly posed question that seems to cut you straight to the bone. It makes you wither like a once succulent rose that had been cruelly denied sunlight and water, and air itself with which to survive. This was not the way someone should be speaking to a grown woman. Neither was this the way a grown woman should allow herself to be spoken to. It was condescension in its purest, most vile form - or, at least, you’re quite certain that’s what it is. 

Suguru’s kind, agreeable demeanor and his honeyed tone of voice make it hard to tell sometimes. The stark contrast between one and the other and the next leaves you reeling; intoxicated beyond all measure off nothing more than just his mere presence and its bold study in broad strokes of contradiction. You were regretfully helpless before it though. Eager to have those arsenic dipped words aimed at you for the vindicating thrill of it as much as you shied away from it, fearing their burning sting. 

“I’m sorry …” It’s all you can think to say. 

His expression shifts and the threadbare tension fades. But rather than softening at your mouse squeak apology it only grows sharper with the hard lines of put upon pity that slither across his face like a stretching, clawing shadow. It comes in the form of a stilted upward draw of his brows to accompany the cooing pucker of damnably kissable lips. If you didn’t know any better you could almost convince yourself that he was looking upon a contemptible stray or a particularly unfortunate child rather than at you. Certainly not you, with all your money and the posh upbringing you’d enjoyed by virtue of your well to-do parents and their considerable sway in the world of politics. Your top rated education, your impressive track record of boyfriends, each more affluent than the last. The shiny new car you’d abandoned in favor of coming here right along with everything else from your past life, even the expensive jewelry you were in the habit of buying for yourself just because. 

These were the things that made people look at you in envy, not ignominious disregard. No one had ever stared you down quite like this before and that, too, makes you wither from the inside out as much as it has your gut twisting with a surge of molten heat. This was not the way a grown woman of your social standing was supposed to react to being degraded, verbally or otherwise. You knew that as much as you knew the back of your own hand. But you only lean towards him as if seeking out the warmth of the sun you’d been so long denied rather than scuttling away as you probably should have. 

Would have, if you were only just a little bit smarter. 

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, feeling like you owed him that and so much more. 

“Whatever do you have to apologize for, love? I said it wasn’t without its charm, didn’t I?” 

Tilting his head, Suguru gives your chin another soft tap as if to encourage you but it has the opposite effect of making your bottom lip warble. Something white hot and steely flashes behind his eyes, and he tips closer until the end of his nose stops just short of touching yours. Those long fingers remain a steady, unforgiving knife on your jugular throughout it all. 

“Oh, but don’t fret now. There’s no reason for tears, is there? You’re still my good girl, aren’t you?” 

You wonder, idly, if this is some kind of trap. 

In the same breath you decide that this is most certainly a trap. No doubt about it, but you find yourself sadly nodding along with him all the same. He pulls you into it, guides the motion out of you just as a master puppeteer might manipulate his hollow wooden dolls, and you’re happy to go along with it, as with anything else, so long as he keeps looking at you like that. 

“I know, darling. I know you are. You try your best to be good, don’t you? That mouth of yours is what gets you into trouble, isn’t it?”

Another nod, and this time you can’t seem to stop the tears from tracking hot streaks down your burning face. You were flushed in shame and something not far off from excitement, equally torn between the two. Uncertain if you should preen under the blazing spotlight of his attention, as natural inclination would dictate, or the groveling, desperate urge in your higher functioning mind to rectify your mistakes so he wouldn’t be upset with you anymore.

The latter wins out quickly enough. It always does, particularly when his sugar coated reprimands make you feel so infantile and pathetic. Just as small and meaningless as a chewed up wad of gum stuck to the sidewalk. You were willing to do anything to earn your spot back in his good graces again. Anything. 

Clearly seeing what he was looking for now, Suguru’s smile slides back into place with a staggeringly slow curl across the line of his mouth. It’s somehow even sharper this time, and you’re almost blinded by the glint of a blade bathed in sunlight. 

“There, there. I understand. Really, I do. Your tongue just doesn’t know any better, does it?” 

You suck in a wet, faltering breath. “No …” 

His lashes droop to an almost seductive half lidded state, promising the absolution of eternal rest as much as the dizzying, unspeakable heights of carnal pleasure he could bring you. Drawing a carefully tempered breath that seems to steal the air from your lungs, he slides his hand out from under your chin and reaches up to wipe the tears off one cheek with a lingering swipe of his thumb. He pauses then, for just a moment, while he studies your face before sedately reaching around to repeat the process on the other side. 

“Don’t you think we should give it something more productive to do then?” 

It's barely more than a whisper, intended for your ears only in an otherwise empty, cavernous, sparsely furnished room that was so horribly still and quiet you would almost believe only the dead walked here. 

And you shudder for him - tremble and shake like some small, frightened creature caught under the talons of an incomprehensibly vicious monster. There was close to nothing you would not do for him, no humiliation you wouldn’t endure for his sake and his sake alone. You’d happily let him make an example out of you and mould you into the idyllic martyr he seemed to want so bad. It was a blessing coming from him, and you warm with the rush of helium in your chest that swells at being chosen by the god of sharp edges and black silk. 

“Please tell me what to do, Geto-sama. Please.” 

“Hush,” He mouths the word like a prayer. “I have just the thing in mind. You’ll do it for me, won’t you?”

“Yes. Anything.” That was very much the truth. 

A pleased exhale from him teases the flyaways in your hair and Suguru’s hand retreats, making you whimper at the loss of contact. Instinctively you try to follow, tipping forward on your knees so far that you almost lose balance, but he only pins you with an amused look of warning as he reclines back against his plush throne of pillows. Still so sharp and jagged, even at ease, and you watch him get settled in rapt fascination, unsure what he would have of you. 

You were eager to learn though, and the serrated glint in his eye never strays from your face, ensuring you don’t look away as he reaches down to grab at the bulk of his robe and tug at it. Pulls the heavy fabric up, up, up with a quiet slither and an almost coquettish flourish to accompany it. 

Slowly, more and more of him is revealed to your voracious gaze — much more than you would have ever dreamed yourself worthy of looking upon — and your throat goes bone dry when you realize he’s much more sturdy than the shapeless robe would have had you believe. Almost sickeningly so, and the unbearable heat that spears through you almost bowls you over on the spot. 

Nicely shaped calves that speak of an active life outside this temple, outside of this role he's taken here on these hallowed grounds, lead the way up to a pair of well defined thighs, beautiful in their muscle heavy composition. It’s perfectly scandalous in its own right to have him baring himself at you like this but he doesn’t stop there and instead drags one corner of the garment even higher, teasing you with a glimpse of his smooth hip. The realization that he’s not wearing anything underneath makes you sway on the spot, well and truly lightheaded now. 

“G - Geto-sama, I - -“ 

“What’s the matter, love?” He cuts across you in a tone that hits its mark like the lethal swing of a battle sword, rendering you immediately and irreparably mute. “I’m certain you just said you would do anything. Or was I mistaken?” 

You hesitate. 

You clench your clammy hands into tight fists. 

You don’t know what to do, how to react. What to say. 

The world itself seems to stand still as you surreptitiously glance at the spot between his legs with brazen, boldfaced interest, unable to conceal it even if you tried. That part of him is still obscured by the pool of fabric gathered in his lap, however, and he laughs at the eager look of apprehension in your expression. Light and airy, and so horribly cruel you feel the prick of fresh tears in your eyes again. 

“Not that, I’m afraid. That’s only for good girls who don’t need to have their behavior corrected. You really should know that by now.”

You feel the hurt of that deep in your bones and it leaves behind a throbbing ache as if he’d ruthlessly brought a harsh leather strap down across your back. He may as well have done just that for as much anguish it causes, how cleanly it slices despite his voice maintaining its ever pleasant intonation, and you implore him with a wet, wide eyed look. If not that then what? 

But Suguru only inclines his chin in lieu of a proper response, inviting you to keep your eyes on him. To keep watching as he decorously turns over onto his side and then further over onto his front with the topmost leg splaying out from his body at a wide arch. He cranes his neck around to look back at you over his shoulder then, and you suddenly forget how to breathe. 

Both because you’d never seen him look at anyone with the same tawdry, undeniably flirtatious little smirk that he gives you and because your scrambled brain was already starting to connect the dots. You weren’t stupid. You may have been willfully, happily dumb and malleable for him but you weren’t stupid, once you got right down to it, and yet you can’t find the presence of mind to protest. Nor do you manage the wherewithal needed to argue against what you already knew was coming. Your heartbeat pounds a wild rhythm against your rib cage, threatening to burst right out of you as he brings his hand down to hike the back of his robe up in similar fashion to the front, teasing you with it. 

The curvy backs of his thighs are just as enticing and you voraciously soak them up, admiring the smooth, flawlessly warm tone of his skin while you let them draw your attention straight up to the meat of his ass. It’s tight and narrow, as most men’s are, but unexpectedly soft looking in texture. Just plump enough to offer something to squeeze and hold on to. It gives the impression of being the only part of his body with any real cushion, completely lacking in any of the sharp angles you see in his face and his hands. 

You swallow so hard you audibly choke on it. 

Even having already surmised what his intention was, you still struggle to wrap your head around the reality of it staring back at you. The embarrassment is felt almost as sharply as the humiliation, but neither quite compare to the nauseating spike of arousal that rips through you with all the destructive force of a lightning strike to wreak havoc on you from head to toe. You were far more horrified by that than of what he was offering you. What he was asking you to do, and your lungs painfully hitch with the ragged breath you suck in. 

Your willingness to do it was one thing. Something you could easily overlook as being for his sake. His benefit. His enjoyment. There was no low you weren’t prepared to degrade yourself to as long as it was for him. Always him. But to derive genuine pleasure from an act so demeaning? So inherently disrespectful to you as a woman, and also as a person. As a fellow human being. What was so wrong with you, on a fundamental level, that even such as this would turn you on? 

But, you remind yourself, Suguru was not so much a man as he was a god. Something that existed far above the banalities of humanity no matter how polite or agreeable he might look. 

And he exudes all that and so much more even as he reaches around to smooth a big hand over the swell of one cheek, digging his fingertips in just enough for you to see the dimples it creates in the skin. Showing you exactly how right you’d been about it’s plushy give and further mortifying you in the process. You never would have guessed his build to be this stocky when the usual robes he donned hung so loose and unassuming around him, thoroughly concealing his figure from prying eyes such as yours, but you were sure to never forget now that you’d borne witness to it yourself. The shape of him was forever burned into the backs of your eyelids like a brand. At the very least you were sure to never again know a restful night's sleep for however long you might live. 

“Come now, darling. You won’t get anything done sitting over there, will you?” He purrs, his sly smirk growing when you only sit there, frozen to the spot. A marble statue prostrated at the foot of his altar. “Or have I asked too much of you, hm?” 

Mechanically, you drag your attention up to his face and Suguru immediately chortles at the vacancy staring back at him. 

“My, could it be you simply don’t understand? Shall I spell it out for you then?” 

Your stomach and your pussy both clench in tandem when he purses his lips, cooing at you again, just like before. Belittling condescension oozes from every pore in his body as he tips his head further back, resembling a playful pinup model spread out for a particularly risqué photo shoot and your gaze quickly drops back down to zero in on the savory way he cups his own ass. With a stilted sigh of anticipation he pulls, dragging one cheek from the other until you’re afforded a straight, uninterrupted view of the tight wrinkle of his hole, the gentle curve of his taint directly below it and the silken weight of his ballsack where it’s settled against the cushions. You can’t see his cock like this — can’t tell if he’s hard or flaccid, and you aren’t sure which would have been better worse — but you practically swoon at the thought of it being trapped between his stomach and the pillows he’d laid himself out on. 

He clearly sees the disoriented look of shock on your face yet he pays it no mind. Doesn’t give you a chance to recover, to get your thoughts sorted out as he shifts and draws his splayed knee higher up on the floor. Keeps his body spread open for you when he curls his hand inward and directs your frazzled attention to the pink pucker with a light, almost playful tap of his fingertips. 

“Right here.” He tells you, all sultry smooth and eternally damning. “Your tongue will do quite nicely, I think. It’s certainly better suited to this than starting pointless arguments, anyway.” 

You think he’s probably right about that. He has to be, because he’s Geto Suguru. The man you’ve decided to follow until death do you part, the very light of your life. The apple of your eye. The fire that burns and smolders, even now, in the deepest, darkest recesses of your curling loins. There’s no way someone such as him, with all his hard edges and jagged points thinly concealed under the serene placidity of the Buddha himself — surely someone like that can’t be wrong about anything but least of all this. 

Your arousal, too, cannot be wrong for that reason alone, so you numbly shuffle forward. Drag yourself across the tatami to close the small distance which suddenly feels like a great chasm separating you from him. And Suguru watches on with an inferno that threatens to set you ablaze raging behind his dark irises. You can see the suspense, the twisted excitement curling just under the surface as if it were a living, breathing, all too tangible serpent housed under his skin. So real you could almost reach out and touch it, if you dared. 

You don’t, of course. Not only because you knew better than to be so presumptuous, unworthy as you were, but particularly not after he’d already presented you with your task. A trial to endure in the name of forgiveness. Your penance for saying cruel things to one of the other girls in the congregation out of jealousy and spite. Angry that she might have caught his eye a little too much when you were right there, so much more deserving of his attention than she was. Especially when you were so very unaccustomed to not getting your way. It was an ugly thing, and you knew you’d earned this. 

Suguru may have had a propensity for being cruel in a subtle, needle-pinprick sort of way but he was never, ever unjust. 

Going to your hands and knees now, you lean over his prone body with a strange sense of detached excitement so you can regard him up close. His skin truly is flawless, warm and smooth with sparse curling hair to frame the soft colored hole nestled between his shapely cheeks. He smelled good, too. Like soap and detergent, and the faintest undercurrent of masculine musk that goes straight to your brain, sparking something inside you that makes your cunt squeeze around nothing. There’s no hesitation to do it and he must see that because his smirk inexplicably sharpens, looking like something you could well and truly cut yourself on — but when you swoop down to shove your face into the cradle of his body he stops you with a firm hand abruptly smacked to your forehead. 

Left reeling and disoriented, you allow him to push you back just a smidge. The wry twinkle you find in his gaze when you glance up at him makes you flush red hot, as embarrassed as you are castigated by the gesture. “I - I’m sorry - -“

“Now, now. There’s no rush, is there?” Simpering at you, he drags the tips of his fingers over your temple and down the side of your face so he can deliver a light, mocking tap to the underside of your chin. “You should savor it. Enjoy it. Unless you don’t want to, that is?” 

You shake your head so fast it makes you dizzy. “No, I do! I want to, Geto-sama! Really!” 

The sound he noises is not unlike a purr, and you gratefully lean into the warmth of his hand when he reaches back and curls those long fingers around the curve of your skull so he can pull you back in. “Good. Then take it nice and slow, just like that …”

Under his steady guidance, you lean down much more tentatively than the first time and let him press you into the meat of his ass where you deliver a soft, fleeting kiss to the skin. Suguru hums in appreciative approval at your acquiescence but continues to hold you so you don’t hurry it. So you don’t dive in like some kind of animal. 

Shame at your own behavior chokes you up and you suck in a wet, faltering breath even as you softly peck at the swell of flesh, distantly noting how warm he is as well as the taste of salt on his skin. 

The tickle of fine peach fuzz under your lips and the incomprehensibly pleasant smell that you can taste on the back of your tongue. It’s overwhelmingly easy to get lost in him like this, the act itself far more gratifying than you would have ever thought something such as this could be. Even for all your blind idolization towards the man laid out underneath you, holding you close with your face shoved up against his ass, you still hadn’t expected to feel quite so much satisfaction just from kissing his body. It was all you’d wanted in recent memory, yearning for nothing more than a chance to worship him as you were so certain he deserved to be worshipped, and yet you were still taken aback by it. 

And how could you not be when you were so intimately close, indulging the sort of physical touch you’d never been permitted to share with him until now? You’d fantasized about this — something like this, plenty of times in the past. Rubbed your clit raw and soaked through your panties more frequently than you could even count while you steadily drove yourself mad with wanting. It’s no wonder then that you were so willing to demean yourself when it meant getting the chance to actually touch him like this. The real him, and not the Geto Suguru that exists only in your mind. 

Your pussy gives a muted throb at the soar of vindication that suddenly tears through you, coating the seat of your underwear in sticky slick even as you lean into your work and press so tight against his flesh that it becomes hard to breathe. And of course Suguru allows it, softly cooing at you just as a priest offering comfort to the broken, desperate sinner at death's door might. It sounds like salvation in your ringing ears but you knew it was in all reality the whisper of eternal damnation. The abrasive shuffle of the hangman’s noose around your neck, or perhaps last rites read moments before the swing of the executioner's axe. 

But if this is how you were to die then you would go happily, merrily to that chopping block. 

“Mmm  … that’s it, darling. Nice and easy for me. Haste isn’t going to get you anywhere, now is it?” 

You shake your head with a muffled sound of agreement, basking in the warmth of his skin against yours while you listen to Suguru’s honey dipped voice filter over you. It’s reminiscent of a comfortingly warm mist against your flesh and in your ears. It was the one and only constant in your cotton stuffed head which couldn’t decide what, if anything, it should focus on above all the rest and you desperately latch onto it in search of direction. Cling to it for guidance, and heed its call to you on an exigent summons that you wouldn’t have been able to ignore even if you’d wanted to. 

It was making you crazy. 

He was making you crazy. 

Opening your mouth wide, you eagerly nibble and suck at his skin with rapidly growing urgency, desperate to feel more of him against you. Desperate to take more of him inside of you. He tastes so good, so good, that you can’t even think straight anymore now that you have the flavor of him marinating on your tongue. Your internal frenzy steadily grows while you try to feast on the communion of his body in earnest until he finally reaches down to deliver a sharp flick to your forehead, making you hiss.

“No marks.” 

Blinking back the sting of tears, you let up on the meaty swell of his cheek in favor of kissing the reddened spot you’ve left behind. It’s not enough to bruise, probably; but still regretfully noticeable, and you purse your lips against it in apologetic reverence. You should have known better. Should have asked before doing something of your own volition without his direct order to do it first. The weight of this newest transgression pulls an emotional sniffle out of you, and he mockingly chuckles in response to the sound. 

“How cute. You want to taste me that badly? I didn’t expect you to be this enthusiastic, sweetheart.” 

You nod, dragging your cheek across his plushy ass, making it pudge under the pressure of your face even as a slow trickling tear dribbles from the corner of your eye. It follows the same line already tracked by the ones that came before it but, rather than finding your chin where it could drip off onto the floor, it spills over where your skin meets his and pools between the two of you. 

Softly, Suguru clicks his tongue at the sensation so you lift your head enough to lick it off of him in apology. The bitter salt is repugnant compared to the subtle, almost airy flavors of his body and you draw a faltering breath as you sedately work your way over the swell of his ass cheek one kitten lick at a time, working your way inward. 

He sighs, ever so softly, while you do it. Relaxes the pressure of his hand on the back of your head in favor of absently caressing his long fingers over your hair, teasing strays and flyaways. The tiny baby hairs on the nape of your neck. This unexpectedly tender touch from him, your savior and executioner wrapped into one, has you shuddering over him, wracked with the relief that comes with his forgiveness. You still had work to do. Still had a much deserved penance to complete, but with his guidance you were on the right path to salvation again. 

Carefully, you kiss a hot trail over the curve of his buttocks and start to work your way down. Nudge yourself even closer so you can lean into him and at last dip your face into the crevice of his body. The lingering scent of soap and male musk grows stronger like this, not at all unpleasant but so incredibly heady that it seems to rush straight to your cunt. You pointedly choose to ignore that though, and instead nuzzle your nose into the space between his cheeks, teasing the puckered hole within. A subdued shiver races through him, slight enough that you wouldn’t have noticed it had you not been pressed in so tight against him. He doesn’t move to stop you though and merely curls his finger around a loose strand of hair on your head as if something like this was a casual encounter, not one that was of any particular concern to him. Nothing to get excited or hasty about. A leisurely pastime he indulged in from time to time, frequently enough that it didn’t demand his full attention and yet not so commonplace that he was bored with it. 

Idly, you wonder who else among the congregants has been blessed with this particular gift. 

Spurned on, you press your face in close and deliver a lingering kiss to the center of his asshole. It weakly twitches under the contact, clenching and then unclenching in a mockery of a reciprocal kiss, returning the favor, and you do it again with a quiet groan. Sink into him until you can scarcely breathe but that is hardly of any consequence to you at this point. Suffocating in him like this did not seem so bad a fate — it was one you would have gladly welcomed, in fact. 

Taking your time with it, you slowly peck your way down the gentle slope of his taint and press your tongue flat against the seam, dragging your mouth up until you feel the wrinkled dip pass under it. You do it again and then again, slobbering all over him with slow, savory licks that come back tasting of salt and copper. His skin is so soft and smooth here, and mostly hairless save a few wispy strands that tickle your lips in silent reminder that what you were doing was by all accounts dirty. Certainly not the sort of degrading act someone of your social standing should be subjecting herself to. 

But you hold a deep, overwhelming love for him in your heart, one that trumps all sense of dignity you may have otherwise possessed. The quiet sigh he eventually issues into the still air only further encourages you to keep going. 

Pausing when your tongue next passes over the center of his hole, you worm it forward to poke and prod at the tight entrance. Circle the rim with just the tip until it relaxes against the wet pressure of your mouth so you can dip inside far enough to truly taste him. Your eyes roll back at the heady flavor and you quickly seal your lips around him, alternating between sucking and licking in order to loosen him up more. You wanted to shove your tongue inside of him as far as it would go, but you couldn’t do that when his body was still so tight. 

Suguru hisses faintly at the suction and untangles his hand from your hair, bringing it down so he can dig the fingers into his topmost cheek. He pulls at it, opening himself up to you. Grants you access to the depths of his person, and you eagerly take the chance to wiggle your tongue inside again, reaching deeper than before. His hips give a little jerk at the sensation before subtly angling upward, tipping towards your face. 

“Mmm, that’s it, darling. Just like that …”

Your breath puffs out of you in a ragged exhale, stuttering and clipped. It’s not hard to tell that your panties are soaked at this point and they wetly cling to you as you burrow deeper into the crevice of his ass with a muted shake of your head. You’re already as close as you can get but that doesn’t stop you from trying, even when your nose registers discomfort at the pressure. You can’t stop though. You’re mad with it, this powerful need to crawl inside of him, if only you could. If only it were possible. 

Groaning at the wild squirming of your tongue, he slowly eases up his hold on the meaty swell of his ass and finally rolls the rest of the way over onto his stomach. Barely audible huffs of pleasure reach your ears now, reverberating inside your skull like the sweetest melody of wind chimes to lull you deeper into your trance. The change of position opens him up further to you, you’re delighted to find, and it is with a great deal of satisfaction that you worm your tongue into that clenching passage where you can finally — finally! Massage at his insides to your pounding hearts content. 

“I knew you were well suited to this task,” He murmurs, breathy and distant. Distracted. “Your mouth was made for this, wasn’t it?” 

You noise a muffled sound of agreement, dizzy and lightheaded. Feeling faint with the weight of it all, but especially the significance behind this act of service and the sharp stab of humiliation that comes with it. Degrading though it may be, you’d never felt closer to this man who presented you with salvation in one hand and damnation in the other. You were practically soaring with it, and that sensation only increases, doubles down, when he pushes back on you in encouragement. 

The lower half of your face is a mess of dribbling saliva, cool and sticky on your red hot skin, but you stamp down the urge to reach up and wipe it away. Instead, you lean somehow further into him, meet the not so subtle roll of his hips, and it doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall into an easy rhythm like this. Rocking together in near perfect unison for a prolonged beat until he seems to grow impatient, pushing himself against you more insistently no matter how you work him over with your tongue. The thought that you weren’t doing a good enough job brings with it a sharp twinge in your chest, so you quickly follow him up when he  at last pushes up to his knees with a disgruntled huff. 

Positioned like this with his ass jutted upward makes it a little easier to tongue fuck him, his passage relaxing open with the pulse of a muscle spasm that shudders through him. You suck in a wet, gasping breath of air as you enthusiastically gum at him with your lips, noting in a far off, dreamy sort of way that the rim of his hole has become more puckered and raised over the last few minutes. It seems to welcome the soft plunge of your tongue now, greedily swallowing it up each time you dip it inside of him. The slow rise of pleasured groans coming from his mouth attests to the fact that he was enjoying this, assuring you and emboldening you at the same time. You wanted to make him feel good more than anything else in that moment — needed him to feel good — and it is with a great deal of pleasure that you let Suguru drag his ass across your face with a subdued twist of his pelvis, smearing you with sticky spit in the process. 

“Nnghn … yes, darling, yes. Keep that up and you’re going to make me cum … you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Ahnn - a reward for all your hard work, hm?” 

The thought alone is enough to make your whole body seize, pussy clamping tight around nothing so violently that you actually sway on your hands and knees. It was too much. You’d fantasized about just that, about making him shoot hot ropes down your throat more times than you could conceivably count, but you hadn’t thought you’d ever get the chance. It was too good to be true. A once in a lifetime opportunity if there ever was one. 

You’re punch drunk on it as you slip your tongue out of his hole and enthusiastically circle the puffy rim with broad, flat strokes before tracing a wet path down his taint. You pause long enough to deliver a smacking kiss to it before leaning further down, intent on doing the same to his hanging ballsack, but he stops you with a pointed shove of his ass. 

“Stay focused, my love. I already told you where your mouth belongs. Do not overstep my patience with you a second time in one day.” 

Appropriately chastised by that warning, you hurriedly direct your attention back to his waiting hole. He lets out a pleased sigh when you get back to work, lapping at him with renewed vigor and just a pinch of emboldened audacity, but it seems to sufficiently placate him. 

It doesn’t take long for Suguru to relax into it again and he sedately rocks his hips back into the warmth of your mouth, all but basking in the sensation now. You’re glad for it, for his infinitely forgiving nature and his proclivity for giving second, third, even fourth chances to those that loyally followed him. Were he not so kind and magnanimous you probably would have found yourself kicked to the curb long ago. Were he not so understanding of your shortcomings as a mere mortal before his godlike presence you would have surely found yourself booted from the temple, never to return or be seen ever again. 

There was a kindness in his cruelty and you’re reminded of that when he pushes against you, going up on his hands now so he can properly grind himself on your face. You welcome it. Revel in it as you fuck your tongue into him again, delighting in the easy slide of it along his throbbing passage. You had him so obscenely coated in slick that you were sure the insertion of a finger would be a seamless one, but you don’t dare try it. Not without his permission first. Not without the risk of incurring further ire from him and, as if he can sense your thoughts, he twists around to look back at you. 

“Mmm, I’m getting close now … lie back for me, won’t you?” 

You freeze at that, a million questions running through your head all at once, but you give none of them voice as you slowly peel your mouth off him. This time you can’t stop yourself from reaching up to swipe at your wet chin even though it does very little in the way of good. You were soaked in spit from the nose down, something only a good washing could remedy, so you push it to the back of your mind for now and move to obey, hastily laying out flat on your back across the floor. 

For better or worse it doesn’t take long for you to figure out what he’s planning to do, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you watch him shuffle around to kneel beside your head. He looks like an elegant, dangerous cat hovering over you, all the more so when he pins you with that serrated edge smile. The faint flush on his cheekbones doesn’t detract from the air of superiority he holds over you, whether natural or by design, and in fact only seems to highlight his almost preternatural beauty. You’d never known someone so pretty, regardless of their gender, and you can’t quite shake the feeling of looking upon a blessed work of art as he gathers the loose fabric of his priest garb in both hands. 

Then, to your surprise, he throws one leg over your chest, straddling you backwards with his front pointed towards your feet, and you suddenly forget how to breathe. You aren’t sure how to react, what to do, so you just lie there, prone and helpless, while he hikes up the back of his robe to expose his ass again. He was still denying you even the pleasure, the simple satisfaction of seeing his cock with your own eyes, but you were under the distinct impression that he must have been straining hard by the way he looks back at you over his shoulder. The simmering heat in his dark eyes gives him away. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” 

Effectively robbed of your voice, all you can do is shake your head. 

He chuckles at that, clearly amused but unconcerned at your lack of a verbal response, and you hold your breath as he starts to lower himself. You think you might really faint, as overwhelmed as you are by the whole thing. Somehow you manage to keep it together though and you groan faintly when he settles on top of you, not quite sitting his full weight down but enough so that you quickly find it hard to breathe. It feels like you really might suffocate in his ass this time, more so when he gives his hips a slight wiggle to get comfortable and make sure his puckered entrance was right where he wanted it. 

“There. That’s nice, isn’t it?” 

Your attempt at a response is horribly muffled and incomprehensible, a mess of gibberish that may not have made much sense at all even if you weren’t currently being smothered. That clearly doesn’t bother him, however, and you whimper when he reaches down to take your hands in his so he can redirect them around his waist and up to the front of his robe. 

“Hold this for me?” 

Numbly, you fist your fingers into the thick material and let him position them as he wanted. You felt silly and inconsequential, a thing and not a person with him seated upon you like this. Just like a king on his impromptu throne. But you were hardly in any position to complain. Even when humiliation cuts through you like a sharp razor blade, even when embarrassed heat floods your face to make you even dizzier than you already were, you still couldn’t find it in you to advocate against this treatment. 

If Geto Suguru wanted to treat you like a chair and nothing more then that was what he would do. 

If he wanted to treat you like an inanimate mastubatory aid then that was his prerogative as well. 

You were his to do with as he saw fit, and you have to make a conscious effort to stop your hands from shaking when he settles more firmly on top of you, puckered hole pressing tight against your mouth until you have no choice but to open it. He moans, very softly, at the sensation before reaching around, presumably to take his cock in hand. The eager clench of his ass tells you the exact moment he gives it a tight, savory squeeze. 

“Don’t forget to use your tongue …” 

He sounds distracted. Thoroughly preoccupied now, but you happily comply without protest as you reach out past teeth and lips to lap at him again. The responding groan is needy, perhaps even a little frazzled, and it slices through you like a hacksaw. You’ve never heard anything like that come out of him before, or anyone else for that matter. It was a heated noise that seemed otherworldly for as beautiful as it was. The kind of sound an seraph might make, if they could or would engage in an act such as this. 

Unbothered by the lack of oxygen you were getting, you dazedly poke your tongue up to dip it into the center of his hole. You were hoping, praying, to catch that sound again but all you get for your trouble is a breathy exhale that seems to waver at the tail end. That’s not nearly enough to discourage you though, and you crane your neck up to attack the center of his body with the same fervor as before, worming your way inside so you can massage along his pulsing guts. 

Suguru twitches on top of you, his breath coming a little quicker now as he slowly thrusts his hips forward and then back. You shudder at the realization that he was fucking into his fist, dragging out the strokes to elongate the pleasure of them while pointedly dragging his asshole across your mouth at the same time. It has you squirming underneath him, pitifully rubbing your thighs together in search of relief, no matter how blithe it might be, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He was intent on chasing his release now, and you struggle to keep your tongue moving when his motions start to pick up. 

Quicker now, he rocks between your mouth and his hand, letting out soft little huffs and groans while he does it. Nothing quite like that sound he’d first made but these were nice too. They were husky and hot, giving away the true extent of his arousal. You wondered if he was leaking precum all over his knuckles, or if he was using it to lubricate his palm. If he was rubbing over the glans with a blocky, callous worn thumb to stimulate the nerve endings there or if he was more focused on making his fist as tight as possible for him to fuck into. You wished you could see, that you could watch him tug himself to completion, but just getting to be this close to him while he did it seemed enough for now. 

Assuming you didn’t die here on the floor of his private chambers, smothered to death by his ass, you’d have plenty of material for your own mastubatory fantasies to last a lifetime. It was well worth the risk and the price you might potentially pay. 

“Oh, right there, love … deeper, go deeper!” 

You try your best to oblige even when the root of your tongue aches in protest, already stretched to its limit. Gasping and heaving, struggling just to keep from passing out, you forcibly wriggle it into the clenching heat of his body with everything you’ve got, determined to meet his every need. He responds in kind with a fervent thrust of his pelvis, riding your mouth with quickly growing need. You hadn’t expected him to be so affected, so caught up in the pleasure, but you carefully file it all away with what little wherewithal you still possess. It wasn’t much, hardly more than a drop of higher functioning thought left at your disposal, and yet that seemed to be all you needed. You could feel your own excitement growing in tandem with his and your body reacts to each sound, each shifting motion as if you were experiencing the same sensations as he was. 

And when his ass suddenly squeezes down on your tongue in a vice grip your pussy responds in kind, tightening to the point of discomfort. Suguru groans, just as beautifully as before, and it makes your toes curl while he faintly jerks on top of you, stiffly riding out what could only be a powerful orgasm. Elation quickly rushes in to flood your cotton stuffed head as if you’d experienced the same high of relief even as your guts clamp up, left hanging on the precipice indefinitely, but you try to tell yourself that you don’t mind it. His pleasure was your pleasure after all, and you were thankful just for that. 

Gradually, some moments later, he starts to relax on top of you and you suck in a gasping breath of air when he gingerly rocks forward to lift his ass from your face. The sense that everything was spinning around you at an alarming speed only increases as he moves to dismount and you squint against the faint light coming from the lamp in the corner. Even that was too much for your eyes after they’d adjusted to the darkness under his robe, a surprisingly apt metaphor for the malicious spell he had you under, but this too was something that didn’t bother you half as much as it probably should have. 

What does register in your mind as alarm, however, is the creamy white ropes of cum you find staining down the front of your clothes when you lift your head. It made sense, in a way. Where else was he supposed to cum if not on you? Still, you can’t quite keep the shock off your face and he titters quietly at your expression while he makes casual work of straightening out his robes again. 

“That’s quite a face you’re making. Is something wrong?” 

“No.” You practically croak. Stopping long enough to clear your throat, you try again. “No, nothings wrong, Geto-sama.” 

“Good. Now, I hope you’ll think twice before trying to stir up trouble again.” 

You visibly wither at that. “I will. I promise.” 

Drawing a stilted breath that sounds like the swing of a blade in the still air, he leans forward to brace one hand on the floor, looking at you up close. “Do you really? You know I won’t tolerate any lying.” 

“I do! I swear it!” 

The corners of his eyes wrinkle when he smiles, looking fittingly like a sly and powerful fox demon. “Good. I’d hate to have to punish you again for the same thing, but if you and that tongue of yours ever need a reminder don’t hesitate to come see me again. I’ll set you straight as many times as you need.” Then, with a sense of finality, he sits back and moves to stand. “Come. It’s just about time for dinner and I do believe your father will be joining us this evening, isn’t that right?” 

Your stomach sinks. You’d almost completely forgotten. 

No, not almost. 

You really did forget after everything that had happened today. Was it really any wonder though? It seemed like only a few short minutes had come and gone here in the secluded privacy of Suguru’s chamber but it had to have been going on over an hour now since he’d steered you through the door with a mindful hand on the small of your back. 

A shudder races through you at the reminder but you quickly shrug it off, clambering to get on your feet as well. “I’m so sorry for keeping you like this. I’ll change as quickly as I can and - -“

“Ah, ah. That’s not what I told you to do, is it?” The knowing smirk on his face grows, sharpens and slices through you like a knife. You’re wholly mortified at the way your pussy throbs in response to it, drawing attention to the fact that you were soaking into your underwear. It felt like you’d already cum at least twice, but you knew all too well that that was not the case. “If I’d wanted you to get cleaned up first I would have said that, wouldn’t I? Hm? I told you to come. You’re not going to disobey me are you?”

“No, Geto-sama, o - of course not!” 

Chuckling, he turns to make for the door. “Then let’s get a move on. I’d hate to keep your father waiting.” 

You hesitate only a brief moment, slowly glancing over yourself one last time. The threads of sticky semen splattered across your front were quickly drying but not nearly at the rate you would have liked. They were leaving behind wet, globular stains, the darkened patches in the fabric regrettably noticeable by your estimation. Maybe they wouldn’t be as obvious to other people though. Maybe they’d just assume you spilled water or some kind of oil on your clothes. Maybe no one would ask any questions. 

Not quite convinced your luck would hold out, you hurry to follow after Suguru just as any devout lamb following their shepherd should. Through heaven or hell, fire or high water, you would let him lead you to any stretch of this earth and back as many times as he saw fit, in whatever condition pleased him. Even now, even after your dehumanizing trial, there was nothing you wouldn’t do to earn his good graces and stay in them. 

Absolutely nothing.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[mybellabellabella]

Gotham Quotes That Live Rent-Free in My Brain

Eduardo: “You left the military for this city?” 🤨

Jim: “It grows on you.” 😏

Me: “No fucking kidding.”

opens tumblr 🤳

Yeah, you’re about to see them. Feel free to reblog and add your own brainrot so I can see it and read it and rot it to sleep because I’m a glutton for punishment while also having incredibly resilient willpower to take it so I’m gonna wanna read those when I open Tumblr later after watching Gotham.

Anyway, here are the quotes that are rotting my brain because I’m watching too much Gotham:

“I did it for you.” Ed 💚 idk if it’s the way CMS delivered this punisher for me when he and Chelsea Spack were filming her (first) death scene, or if it’s just because I have repeated failed relationships and am now going through a divorce—BUT—This quote stays with me even months of never watching even a single clip of Gotham. It’s there. In my brain, infecting my thoughts. Like a virus.

“FREE MY WIFE?! He thinks he can kill seven cops and that will get us to free his wife? I’ll free my boot up his frozen ass! That tin can lunatic, son of a bitch, I’ll rip his—I’m gonna take a breath.” Captain Barnes. Memorized this one while taking care of my babies before taking them to their dad’s. This one is cathartic to yell when you’re getting overwhelmed by your own consequences of your actions.

“Come on, show me.” Alfred. It’s hot. The delivery is hot. Sean Pertwee is hot. The tone is hot. He’s hot.

“Come back to me, Bruce.” Alfred, again. More paternal, still hot, but add some care for Bruce in there…Yeah, still hot, I know, right?

“Middle-aged…white.” Jim Gordon describing child snatchers. The way he says the words. Idk. Go watch season 1, ep 2, Selina Kyle. He and Harvey are talking to Fish Mooney.

“WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?”/ “What the hell was that?” Oswald. Listen, I just live for Robin Lord Taylor swearing, but both times, Oswald’s temper just leaves him with nothing else to do but just explode “WHAT THE F—” in season 5. RLT deserved one f-bomb for how angry they kept Oswald lol. We’d have ate that up.

“Umbrella boy.” Fish 🐟. Actually, Jada Smith’s delivery, stage presence, and performance in general has stayed with me for years. Learned they extended Jada’s role as Mooney because the viewers loved her so much. This line, followed by the line “Bloodshed, then” are probably fairing at the top 2 of my favorite quotes from Fish Mooney 🤤

“The guy with the thing…” (if you haven’t seen the outtakes, the video makes this even funnier 😅. You can fjnd it on YouTube.)

“I am going to wipe that smile off of your face.” Oswald.

“I AM IN CONTROL!” Ed 🤤🤤💚

“But why would you want that? We had so much fun when we were me!” ~Riddler 🤤🤤🫦

“I am judge, jury, and executioner!” Michael Chilklis as Captain Barnes in stark contrast to his role as Vic Mackey in The Shield is my favorite bit that the Gotham Writers and Directors used in the show, and it’s why especially after finishing the Shield, is why I love this quote so much.

“It’s a new day.” Essen, Oswald, Jim, Captain Barnes, that one guy that doesn’t last long says it; if you binge certain episodes ahem like I do, it feels like everyone says it. Speaking of which—

“It’s Gotham.” And any version (lovingly) of it that the city is mentioned. Off the top of my head:

That is so Gotham. ~Ed

For Gotham. ~ Jim ❤️

It’s Gotham. ~ Harvey

This is Gotham. ~ Jim

It’s Gotham. ~Selina

He should just wear leather. This is Gotham. Nobody cares.” ~Oswald

One of my favorites:

You gotta love Gotham, everyone standing around pointing guns at one another. ~Fish Mooney

It really does grow on you, doesn’t it?

Anyway, next:

“[…] long and hard about my generosity!” Oswald. Do I have to say why this stays stuck in my brain? No? Great. Moving on.

“This is trouble.” Gilzean. When Tabby and Babs aren’t getting along is Season 3.

“Grundy, safe.”

“Well, maybe if you would start listening to this 🫀 instead of this 🧠—!” Oswald to Ed.

“So it’s the box 👏👏!” Erin Richards’ cutesy delivery of this line is my favorite thing. Her American accent she uses, her tiny little claps, her pretty toothy smile—Gotta clap or you’re not doing the quote right.

“Experiencing trembling extremities? 👀 Check.” Actually, any of the conversations that Ed has with himself. The cinema is too good when it came to that feature. It’s still one of my favorite things about the series as a whole. All his quotes need to be punctuated by the 👌🏻 or 👆pending on the quote. Use with caution.

“Edward. Well that’s your name, Edward. Edward, Edward. Edward. Edward, Edward, Edward, Edwardedwardedwardeward—”

“COMPLICATED POLICE BUSINESS!” That fella that does killer impressions, that one. That bit when he’s Jim and he has to cover for his absence. That whole shpill is quotable. But—

“Lee Thompkins. Screw that ho. Water under the bridge.” Same guy. Same line, over and over, and over. “Screw that ho.”

“I love birds.” Miriam.

“Yeah, your dad’s a hoot.” Harvey Bullock, to Miriam. Miriam was so scary, y’all. Why she one of the freakiest fucking things of the whole series when you got actual dead alive people in the basement of an insane asylum? That’s intense, right?

Anyway, let’s crack on.

“Dead people. Alive people. Dead-Alive people. It’s horrible!” Ed. I think this stays stuck because of how it’s phrased: dead alive people when I feel it should be alive-dead because you’re alive first—

“You’d make a great pimp.” Fish, to Strange. She’s not wrong.

“That slippery little sucker thinks that he can get away from me—” Jerome, about his brother. The tie 👔 business took me all the way out 💀when I first watched the episode. They had no business having Cameron Monaghan on the business end of a tie and a deadly end of a shotgun in one scene 🫦 He is fiiine—

“Jimjimjimjinjimjimjim, Jim, Jim, Jim. Why so grim, Jim?” Tetch.

“This is my amused look.” Barnes, to Oswald.

“ ‘Ed Nygma is the monster responsible for blowing up Haven’…Ed, what have you done?” Oswald. I could write an essay (like I’m doing now) about why that stays in my head, but ima just throw it out there for closure and completion sake that HE CARES ABOUT EDDIE AND—

RLT. Another stunning performance.

Sofia Falcone:

“You came looking for a gangster, and that’s exactly what you found.”

“We could have had a great thing, you and I.”

“I’m a Falcone.”

“Captain.”

“Lunch.”

“That’s wrong!” Falcone, when he realized Fish used Liza as a weapon against him.

“I’m going to stab you.” 🔪✊🏻 Victor Zsasz, to Sofia. The hand gesture is so cute.

“Boy, do I feel it when the night gets cold.” Ecco.

“Ping…ping…ping.” 🏓🧠

“I…hhhhhhate 🐈…having a gun pointed at my face.” Selina Kyle. Cameron’s performance in this delivery is my favorite quote of hers. The nose scrunch, the lip snarl, the way her eyes did thing—the HISSING

“I was set up!” Jim. He does that sexy jaw lock thing when he yells it.

“It’s a set up!” Not a sexy thing, but Harvey’s desperation, regret, and horror are so visceral in that line, it gives me chills.

“I couldn’t help it, Harvey; he vexed me.” Fish Mooney. That woman is delicious , stg 🫦😏

“Mi casa es su casa.” Not an original line, but this one stays close by because Oswald reiterates Fish’s same line to Jim Gordon a couple seasons later (I love the parallels).

“Boop 🍸.” Barbara plops a fruit or olive into a dude’s glass in response to the bargaining chip she’ll give dude in exchange for the club. Apparently, Erin Richards did have actual lines to say in response to Robin Lord Taylor; however, she forgot what they were, and instead opted for this cute, Barbara Queen-esque improvisation.

“There is no Ed Nygma without the Penguin!” Oswald says this, however, I do like how it reverberates throughout the episode How the Riddler Got His Name and through the episodes prior to it. Without going into a whole shpill—#teamnygmobblepot

“Riddler.” The way Oswald says his name. 😋�� The fact that it’s the gayest scene ever and I live for it. I do like the entire scene when Riddler and Oswald are reunited however briefly for Oswald and Ed—I don’t understand why Ed just didn’t stay with Oswald, say fuck the narrows, and ruled from on high at City Hall starting s5e1—y’all motherfuckers knew they’d be too powerful so you had to split them up somehow

Anyway, let’s keep going.

“Honk, honk 🪿.”

“What’s my problem, schmo?” Frankie, to Oswald. Why does this man kind of look like Jack Nicholson in The Shining?

“Did you name your dog after me 🐾?”

“You are an idiot.” Ed 💚 I like the way he says it. Yeah, I’m thirsty, so what? It’s sexy, though. If you disagree, you’re wrong. Go watch Anything For You and tell me that he’s not hot as fuck when his neck does the thing when he says “idiot” and come back to this post. Do it now. Fuck, I might…damn 🫦🥵.

“We have been through all of this before. I’ve tried to kill you. You’ve tried to kill me. And yet fate has led us here, in this room. Together.” You know. You know.

“Y-Yes…?” Kringle…Specifically, Edward is about to think about asking Kringle out and instead of doing that, he pauses to ask, instead, if she knows that houseflies hum in the key of ‘F’. (Which is also one of the quotes that just buzz 🪰 around in my noggin if only to pester me.)

“Have I got you all wrong? Are you crazy?” Lee, to Jim, when he’s planning to lead an assault on Galavan’s tower. (His tower right? Yeah. Yeah, because that’s where Penguin and Gordon take dude and whack him by the river 🌂.

“You need to stop mumbling and fumbling and tell her what’s up.” Dark Nygma. Mmm. 🥵

“Well, I’m dead 😵 .” Kringle’s reflection. Chelsea Spack’s innocent, sort of doe-eyed affect is dropped down to earth by her cynical “didn’t need a second chance if you hadn’t killed your first one, but okayyy” flat delivery kills me every time.

“You’re the only one to measure up.” Isabella. Say it, girlfriend…and then never again. 🛤️🚗

“Well, hello! Nice to meet ya! I knew there was someone hiding in there!” Tom, Selina’s street thug ‘colleague’ who helps Bruce get Silver to speak the truth about his parents’ murderer.

Tom is one of my favorites. The entire scene with he, Silver, and Bruce is just comedy gold with rewatch value.

“Unless you’re fond of wearing mittens…” lmfao

“ARE WE GOOD!?”

“Caaaaaaat.” The way he purrs Selina’s street name.

I like Tom.

“But Sasha! 🥩Far more tender! In my opinion.” 🤤

“Stop 👹 talking!” Jim has the virus and Tetch is grinding his gears; Jim is close to giving into the virus and killing him. Virus!Jim was exactly what we needed to see. If he hadn’t caught the Virus, I’d have been like dude. It’s the fella that we need to see fight his shit. Jim and his distorted “👹 Just drive the damn car!”