#on the other hand what if i blow my entire funds here

[the-travelling-witch]

getting albedo instead of arle is such a bad idea, since i have so good weapon for him whatsoever, but why is it so tempting

[triplesilverstar]

Day 21

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Satyr Vash X F!Reader 

CW:  Nudity, Blood, bleeding, awkward conversations, shower sex, hand job, oral sex, blow job, penis in vagina sex, riding, cock warming, cream pie, lots of cream pies, consensual somnophilia, time jumps, mentions of pregnancy

Word count: 7965

A/N: Day 21, Since I seem to like causing myself pain. Have another giant monster Vash fic. This time with a Satyr! This fic came to be because of a find of mine and you can find their art here!

You honestly hadn’t expected it, after moving back to the old country and taking over your grandmother’s estate. The grapevines overrun with other leafage and foliage wondering what she had done in the past few years for money. At least you had enough funds sitting in your bank account from your corporate job to cover a few years of working to get some kind of money to keep yourself afloat. 

So one day, in an old pair of coveralls and beat-up sun hat seeing what you thought was a pair of goat legs in among the grapevines you’d smacked its hindquarters, expecting the goat to run away. You sure as hell hadn’t expected it to yelp and stand up revealing a human torso. A heavily scarred human torso. 

A heavily scarred attractive human torso with pretty teal eyes and blond hair, who was looking at you like a scared animal. As your gaze went downwards you felt the blood rushing up your cheeks, quickly turning around. “Oh, my god.”

“Ugh, hi there. I have to admit I’m not used to seeing anyone in these fields, sorry about that.” 

Whipping around so quickly you’re certain some of your bones creaked “You can talk!” Surprised by your reaction and slightly taken aback, rubbing his one hand along the back of his head.

“Well yea.” Tilting his head as if he’s confused even more at your words. “How else would I communicate?” 

That had been the start of you getting to know the Satyr, sitting down with him that afternoon and talking, learning more about him and him about you. His name was Vash, and he’d been hiding on the property for almost a decade, having picked it because your grandmother hadn’t been that active. Turns out he’d been helping her without her ever knowing, something you thanked him for. 

As the two of you spoke, you kept looking at his scars and his missing arm, trying to not be too obvious but he had to have seen your wandering eyes. His voice grew somber as he stated not all humans were kind. That had burned your heart, offering him a hand and telling him you’d like to be kind to him. He’d taken it and smiled. 

When you saw where he’d been sleeping, you’d sighed, offering him a room inside the large house if he wanted it. Hoping it wouldn’t come across as rude with you essentially saying his home was a dump. He’d taken you up on your offer, choosing a small room on the main floor saying he’d want to come and go as he pleased and didn’t want to bother you. 

It hadn’t taken long for a friendship to form between the two of you, him helping explain more about the local flora while you worked. He always helped you in other ways since he was taller than you and knew far more about the land that belonged to you at least on paper. At this rate, you’d have grapes for next year to try and turn into wine, and Vash said he knew a little about that too. He was a gold mine of information you were beyond happy to have met and call your friend. 

Weeks passed, and before you knew it an entire season had come and gone, changing from spring to summer. A time you found yourself working in the mornings and evenings and hiding from the midday heat. You’d also taken it upon yourself to try and get Vash to start wearing pants. A concept that confused the hell out of him. 

“Why do I need these? They look stupid.” Holding the end of the loose pants you had made for him that would hide his hooves and well. 

Permanent erection. 

Something you tried to avoid looking at.

“Vash. It’s because you’re very distracting.” Frowning at you and the light blush you’re certain is visible on your face because of the burning you feel.

“These won’t make me less distracting.” Slapping your hands to your face and dragging them downwards.

“Vash. I swear, they very much make you less distracting. At least for me.” Muttering the last part under your breath. 

“Look this is just terrible!” Letting go of the fabric and watching it drop to the floor as he walked away, blond tail swishing behind him clearly annoyed. How the hell were you supposed to explain it was distracting seeing a part of your friend on display that you wanted to do terrible things to. 

The next morning Vash reappeared, the telltale twitch of his tail telling you he was still a little upset with you. Running a hand through your hair before setting the worn sun hat back on your head and approaching him. “Vash.”

“Oh. Am I not too distracting this morning?” His one hand tucking on some of the invasive vines from some of the fruit trees that had been being choked by the flora growing around them. Clearly frustrated.

“Vash. Can I try and explain a little better?” Watching him raise an eyebrow before turning towards you. Feeling the blush starting to grow across your cheeks.

“I. Find… a part of you very distracting” trying to keep your voice soft and hoping he won’t press too much. Instead, he’s just tilting his head at an angle, like he still doesn’t understand. “I” making a vague motion towards his abdomen and the thick appendage hanging there “find that distracting.” Well aware of the heat radiating from your cheeks, certain you’re flushed with embarrassment. 

“Oh. OH.” Looking down before looking back to you, concern growing on his face as he stepped closer dropping the flora from his hand to touch your cheek. “You feel warmer than normal. Are you alright? Is it too warm for you?”

You almost laugh at his concern “I'm ok. It’s more the feeling awkward about my explanation.” A small chuckle passes your lips, watching the concern fade away but his hand stays on your cheek.

“Is that why humans wear clothes?” It’s asked so innocently you just smile at him.

“Yea. It’s part of the reason. Sorry humans are strange like that.” A brief nod before he removes his hand, reaching down to grab the removed flora to bring it to the growing pile he keeps telling you will make good compost for the grapevines one day. Watching him go you smile, the blush remaining on your face well into the afternoon. 

When he reappears that evening you notice he’s wearing them, grumbling a little about how strange they look and feel. You don’t fully know why, but you close the distance wrapping your arms around him from behind and pressing your face into his scarred back. “Thank you, I know this is more for my comfort than yours.” 

Unaware when you leave him and head back to your own self-appointed evening chores that his face is a bright pink, Vash is well aware of the reason for his blush and well aware such feelings would never be returned. 

More time passed and you made Vash a few pairs of shorts since he understood the reason for them better and not wanting him to feel like you were ashamed of him. You had to admit to yourself, he was a very attractive fellow, and damn did he have one sweetheart of a personality to match. Sighing as you thought about it, it is not like he’d ever have feelings for a human, you were just a friend. 

Hearing a familiar yelp you dropped what you were doing, running across your property towards Vash jumping and darting around obstacles. Seeing Vash on the ground and hissing, his hand bleeding as he tried to remove something from around his leg. Dropping beside him and moving his hand you find yourself hissing as well.

A coil of rusted barbed wire wrapped about his leg slicing into the back of his calf, the white fur stained pink. “Hang on Vash. Let me go get the wire cutters.” Darting off again, and making a small detour into the house to grab the first aid kit. Back at his side you quickly cut the wire, hands gentle as you remove it from his skin, looking around to see if there aren’t any other pieces sticking out of the ground. A sigh of relief that this seems to be the only one on the surface.

Opening the first aid kit and grabbing a sterile bandage you pour a bit of alcohol onto it before looking into his eyes. “This is gonna sting. Probably a lot.” Nodding for you to continue, you dab away from the cut trying to keep the dirt out away from it, hearing him hiss you stop. Reaching for his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, watching as he bit his lip.

“It did sting. A lot.” You laugh at his comment, watching his face flinch ever so slightly as you keep working trying to keep your touch gentle.

“It doesn’t need stitches or anything, but I’d like to try and wrap it” another nod, and you press a new sterile bandage to the cut and start to bind it in place. “You’ll tell me if it’s too tight right?” A brief nod and you keep working, happy with how tight it is, and securing it in place. “Can I look at your hand?” Taking the hand and cleaning it the same way, his fingers needing a few bandages, most of the cuts shallow from him trying to free himself.

Once done you pat his thigh, smiling at him and blushing all of a sudden at the way he’s staring at you gazing ardently at your face. “Thank you.” All you can do is stammer out an acknowledgment as you stand up. As Vash pushes himself he almost lands on the ground again, but not before you’re wrapping your arms around him. “I… Think I might need help getting back to the house.” Adjusting so you’re under his shortened arm, supporting his injured leg and the two of you hobble back to the house. 

As you both get inside and help him into his room and onto the mound of pillows he uses as a bed you smile kneeling down next to him. “Anything I can get you while you rest up in here?” 

“Not right now.” Smiling back at you while he leans back “You’re a good caretaker you know.” For whatever reason that has you blushing as you head back out, heading back to where Vash had been and going through the soil pulling up several feet of wire and dropping it into the metal scrap pile beside the house and ensuring nothing is sticking out. 

Later when you check in on him you have to smile, softly snoring and his foot twitching once in a while. Moving closer and running your hands along his leg near the injury, still fascinated by how soft his fur is. Another short snore and you smile, leaving him be and feeling the blush returning to your face. 

The next day Vash is just moving slowly, and both of you work together to see if you can find more wire, not wanting to see Vash injured because of something like that again. 

When a heat wave strikes out of the blue in the middle of summer, the pair of you stay inside the house trying to keep cool. Both of you laying on the floor heads next to one another while you talk and your feet pointing in different directions. 

“Alright, best fruit?” You ask, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Apples. Easy.”

“Really? That took like, no time to come up with that answer.” Turning your head enough to take in his profile.

“Apples are the best fruit.” His voice is clear he’ll accept no argument.

“I think grapes are the best fruit” you fire back. “They can be made into wine, and they can be frozen. A great snack for a hot day.” 

A snort from him. “What a human answer.”

“Hey now! I’m human, what’d you expect?” Turning your body to slap his shoulder in mock anger.

“And I” Vash rolling over to face you “have never held that against you.” Surprised when he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. A light chaste kiss that you don’t get to respond to, and Vash reels back as quickly face going red. “I… I need to go for a walk.” Standing and moving quickly, hearing the door open and close before you’re even on your feet running to the door in your bare feet. No sign of him as you look out across the yard, running your hand through your hair and looking down at the ground. 

It’s almost evening before he comes back, and you’re sitting at the small table in the kitchen when he walks in. “Hey” his head snapping up as you speak, face flushed before looking to the side. Sliding off the chair and walking to him “You kind of ran away before I could say anything.” Reaching up to cup his cheek and turning his head to look at you “You worried me a little Vash.” 

“I didn’t want to stick around. I…” one of his hooves moving and sliding along the floor, a clear sign he’s nervous. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“If it was just the heat of the moment it's ok Vash.” Keeping your voice soft and starting to pull your hand away.

Or at least you tried to, his own hand coming up to keep yours in place against his skin. “What if it wasn’t?” He sounds like he’s ready to be thrown out of your life and it breaks your heart. 

“Then that’s ok too.” This time you choose to take the risk, pushing yourself up onto your tip toes and pressing your lips to his keeping the kiss as chaste as he did, pulling away and landing flat on your feet. “It’s umm. Kind of nice knowing I’ve got someone as attractive as you kissing me.” Feeling your cheeks heat up at the admission.

A long pause and you’re afraid it might have pushed him a bit too far, feeling the smile drop from your face. Maybe it was you who shouldn’t have done that. Vash removes his hand from yours, and you pull your own back feeling so small.

Suddenly up in the air, your back pressed against the wall and Vash kissing you like his life depends on it. His one arm wrapped around you, hips being used to keep you up in the air and you find your hands moving to tangle in his hair. Elbows pressing into his shoulders as you part your lips to deepen the kiss, moaning against him and the taste of apples on your tongue.

Panting when you break apart and look into his eyes. “If you say you shouldn’t have done that I am going to be, so mad.”

“Then I won’t say it” laughing you kiss him again, and again. Until you feel lightheaded, the back of your head hitting the wall while you try to catch your breath. 

That night you sleep with him in his pile of pillows, listening to his heartbeat and tracing some of his scars. 

In the morning you’d woken up to him playing with your hair, and once he realized you were awake pulling you closer for another kiss.  Well more of a round of kisses, that you found easy to enjoy since you could already feel the heat of the day building.

When the heat wave finally broke you kept sleeping with Vash downstairs, enjoying waking up and going to bed each night to his lips on yours. 

One day you also laughed as you and Vash enjoyed a short lunch under an apple tree, Vash having an apple in his mouth and another in hand. Looking at you cutely as you asked him something, unable to answer and looking at the apple in his hand like he didn’t want to put it down. 

Reaching up to take the one from his mouth while a few petals from the tree fell onto his hair, making him look somehow even cuter in your eyes. Question forgotten you lean closer for a kiss under the tree, watching his cheeks darken, pulling away again to take a bite of his apple before offering it back to him as a tease. Watching him grin as he opened his mouth to take it back and keep eating it. 

Another nice result that came from your closer relationship, still not sure what to call it, was that any chance he had Vash liked to touch you. From running his hand along your arm or pressing his chest against your back and rubbing his face along yours. He liked it even better when you had less clothes on. 

One day closer to the waning days of summer you were sat on the floor in a pair of shorts and your bra, running your hand along his calves and hooves. “So these are the bones of your foot?” 

“My hooves are, like your toes.” Laying back while you play with the soft fur, pressing your fingers against the bones you feel. 

“So. This” pressing around where what you would call his ankle is “is like the bones in my feet? Or is it an ankle?”

“Like the bones in your foot” Still looking at his foot and leg you start running your fingers through his fur. Humming as you start using both hands, watching the fur slip through your fingers.

“So soft” you whisper, tracing patterns in his fur where the gradient changes from the same blond in his hair to the pale white. 

“Your hair is soft too” feeling your face flush, and he’s sporting a similar look as he sits up. A thought comes to you, and you blush a little more. 

“Can I brush your fur, hair, and tail sometime?”

“Um. I should be clean before you do. I’m kinda dirty right now” his hand rubbing against the back of his head. Sending him what you hope is your best bedroom eyes you smile, shuffling closer to the main part of his body and kissing his throat.

“Can I help you get clean too then?” A blushing mess as he stammers out a yes, both of you heading to the bathroom he uses to get clean in. A coarse brush to clean what skin and fur he can reach. As you strip yourself a little nervous, you feel those nerves fade away as he touches your skin gently, exploring some of the skin he’s never felt before. Before either of you get too distracted you look into his teal eyes. “Can you show me how you use the brush?” 

“Right. Yea.” Picking up the brush you watch the way he lathers it up with an old bar or soap before pressing it against his skin and then moving to his fur. The pink hue remained on his cheeks. 

Getting the idea you take the brush from him and get to work, hearing him moan as you scrub along his back, taking extra care around his scars. Still working on his backside and reaching his tail you smile, the occasional twitch taking it from your hands as you lather the soft strands. “How does it get so tangled?” Laughing as you grab it once more, almost done.

“I go through the bushes and stuff gets stuck in it.” Laughing with you and letting out another happy hum.

“Maybe we should do this more often than to keep it from getting too tangled?”

“I… Can’t reach parts of it. So that would be nice.” Voice a little somber and you flinch, realizing your mistake. 

“I’ll brush it every night if you want. You just need to ask.” Getting him to turn so you can face his front after you finish with his tail, placing a kiss on his scarred chest before starting to clean it.

Washing his arm is interesting, as he giggles and laughs so much, learning the underside of his arm is ticklish. Something you plan to use to your advantage if you ever need to, his shorter arm not taking as long.  He’s watching your face intently as you finish with the stub, catching his gaze and keeping eye contact as you kiss the end of it.

Now as you face him, you find yourself swallowing. It makes sense to start at the top of his thighs and work your way down his legs so the suds would trail down his fur. Biting your lip as you look at his bobbing erection. Heading lifting as you feel his hand slide along your arm. “I can look after that area if you want.” His voice is whisper soft, and he’s smiling at you.

“Um. Can I… Can I try something?” Your own voice is just as soft, and when he nods you reach up to get him to bend forward a little to kiss him. Wrapping your hand around his cock as you deepen it, making him moan into your mouth. Pulling away so he doesn’t have to bend you keep moving your wrist, adding a twisting motion while he keeps moaning.

Tip to base and back up again, enjoying the way he twitches in your hand as you keep repeating the motion. Pressing your head to his chest at an angle so you can watch his cock as you keep working him. “Can I. Touch you?” his voice hoarse and starting to pant you smile, tilting your head to look up at him.

“Of course, you can.” As soon as the words are out of your mouth his hand is pressing against the skin of your ribs, touch gentle and explorative as he dips his fingers down to your abdomen before sliding up and pressing against your breast. Humming as he touches you, moaning as you like certain things, and still pumping him. 

Looking back towards his cock, noticing the head has turned red, you smile, kissing his chest and twisting your wrist as you tighten your grip. Vash whines in your hold and you start to pump him faster, keeping your hand closer to his tip. His hand is no longer wandering, moving to your back so his arm is wrapped around you, whining his head falling forward against your own. Tightening your grip just a bit more, and after a few more pumps Vash groans in your ear, his cum spurting upwards with enough force to hit the underside of your breasts as his hips strutter. A few more slow pumps to get the last of his seed from his balls and you stop, releasing his member and giving your hand a flick before sliding it along his belly.

“Feel good?”

A soft moan is your answer, amazed his cock is still erect, and when he feels more stable you look up. Vash is quick to close the distance and kiss you again, when you break away you start cleaning his lower body, enjoying the feeling of his soft fur between your fingers. Once he’s washed you brush out his dried fur and find Vash far too curious about bringing you to a similar release before you go to bed. 

A new routine added to your day, and you can’t complain, every night brushing his fur and learning more and more about each other's bodies with your hands.

As summer turns to fall, while it’s still rather mild at least compared to where you had lived previously, you and Vash are working hard, harvesting fruit from the different trees around the property. Bins of them being stored in the earth cellar, enough that you almost think you might fall over them, even if you have to giggle at all the bins of apples. 

Heading back outside you don’t get far, almost running into Vash. Whose cute pointed ears are pulled back, a bring pink blush across his cheeks. And an arm load of apples. 

“Ugh. Vash. Sweetie. I think we have enough apples.” Watching the blush on his face slowly darken into a deeper hue. 

“These are special apples. I umm” one of his hooves is doing that cute little nervous drag thing and you reach out to rub his upper arm. “I got them for us. For something special.” 

This time it’s you going a little pink, pushing some of your hair behind your ear “oh.” Moving backwards you open the door and run to get a bin for him to put his precious prize into “what makes them special?”

A short flinch and a swish of his tail, unsure if he’ll answer you based on his response. “They’re from a special tree. A little ways away from here… my brother looks after it.” The way his voice drops leaves you reeling, learning your sort of, well you aren’t even sure what the two of you are, but learning he had a brother was interesting.

“Oh. You have a brother? You don’t talk about him much.” Taking the apples from his arm and placing them into the bin, once the final one was stored in the wooden container you turned your attention back to Vash, his voice serious. 

“He’s my twin. We don’t really see eye to eye. On a lot of things.” Stepping so he’s close enough that one of his legs is brushing up against yours, his hand moving to cup your jaw. “Including how we feel about humans. Please, don’t go looking for him. Ever.” You don’t miss the note of desperation in his voice before he pushes his lips against yours. The way he kisses you this time feels so different than any other time like he’s afraid for you. 

As his lips leave yours, both of your hands move to tangle in his hair making sure when you open your eyes you stare into his. “I promise. I won’t.” Body still pressed to his, as he nods closing the distance between the two of you once more. 

A few weeks later, during a spell of rainy days you find yourself in a baking mood, rolling out crusts and making a few pies. Making sure when you picked the fruit you didn’t take any from the apple bin that contained the special apples. 

As you worked, hair tied up and elbow deep in flour you were unaware of a pair of eyes watching you. Focused on your work, and humming to yourself, a small skip in your step. 

Vash is watching you, a soft smile, you’re so different from all the humans he’d met before, those that thought him a freak. He’d been attacked, rocks and worse thrown at him, some wanting to catch him to sell him off as some exotic pet. But you? You just looked at him in a way that made his heart swell in his chest, treated him like he was a living being that deserved to be treated as such. You’d offered him a home, listened to him speak, treated his wounds, shared his bed, and in all these things you never tried to get him to do something he didn’t want to do. 

Kni had disagreed when Vash told him he thought he was in love with you, told him it wouldn’t, couldn’t last. Humans weren’t worthy of being out of the squalor they lived in according to his brother. Vash could see his brothers’ point, but he didn’t share them, he cared about humans and wanted to be a part of their world. Now he had one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

You were still humming away, sliding the last pie into the oven before setting a timer, and starting to wash the dishes. Yelping as a warm arm wrapped around you, and an upturned nose buried itself in your hair, giggling. “Hi Vash, I was wondering where you’d disappeared too.” 

Pressing a kiss into your hair and swaying his hips against your backside “Around.” Moving his hand down your chest and lifting your shirt so he could feel your skin directly. “Whatever you're making smells good.” 

“A couple pies, one of them just for you.” Giggling as you keep washing the dishes and rinsing them before placing them on the rack to air dry. Last item washed you empty the sink, slowly turning around to face him, letting your damp hands rest against the nap of his neck. Tilting your head down and raising your eyebrows seductively “apple.”

Vash grins, already aware two of the five pies you’d made had been apple, excited at least one of them was just for him. Closing the distance and kissing you, the first kiss turning into a series of kisses shared between the two of you. Nipping at one another and dragging tongues against one another's skin, the smell of the baking pies reaching your nose. Starting to deepen the kiss you groan as the timer goes off, pulling from Vash and grabbing your oven mitts to pull the pies out. 

Once the five of them are on the rack, you bite your lip glancing at Vash, who still looks as hot and bothered as you feel. Taking his hand you smile “can we try something new?” Eyes hopeful and feeling your lower body starting to burn.

“I like trying new things” he teases back, letting you lead him to his, your, both of your shared room. Once inside you gently push him onto his back, grasping his cock and pumping him and peppering kisses over his chest. You settle your body between his legs, slowly moving downwards, and kissing the scars you find along the way. Eyes flicking up to his when you reach the part of his legs covered in soft fur, watching to see if he doesn’t want you to keep going, and you have no worries. His eyes are wide watching you and licking his lips, keeping eye contact as you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and hear him hiss in pleasure. 

Humming you pop off the tip, still pumping him and nibbling the sensitive skin, watching as pre cum starts to pool at his slit and pressing your tongue against the small opening. Vash is moaning above you, watching your every movement and your core feels like it’s on fire. Switching to licking the head and twirling your tongue around the sensitive skin, as Vash jerks his hips upwards towards your lips. Smiling as you look at him pulling back somewhat adding a twisting motion to your pumping. 

“Want me to keep going?” Teasing him and biting your lip.

“Please!” A low whine and you tilt your head before going back to his cock, pausing to adjust your hold on his warm flesh before licking a hard strip from his balls to the tip. Tongue flat so you can touch as much of his skin as possible, enjoying the feeling of his mad twitching before engulfing the tip in your mouth and starting to suck. Setting an easy pace for yourself, you don’t go too far down, just past the end of his head so you can focus on the sensitive area. Your hand can do the rest of the work. Another low whine reaching your ears, and you have to admit it sounds a lot like the noise he makes when he’s close to coming. A few more pumps and bobs of your head, it turns out he was making the noise he makes when he’s close, mouth filling with the astringent taste of him. Swallowing his cum as best you can, and pulling away from his cock as he shakes and shivers in the pillows. 

Blissed out against the pillows you give him a few more pumps, aware he’s watching you with hooded eyes, a final glob of cum pooling on his slit which you lick off. Looking at him with adoration as you release his cock and crawl up his body to press against him, feeling his arm wrap around you tight. “I’m going to return the favor later.” A kiss pressed to your forehead as both of you doze off. 

The next day after having a slice of cooled pie, Vash does return the favor, more than once watching you come undone beneath his touch and tongue. As your back arches Vash thinks to himself that his brother has to be wrong, how could someone like you respond to him like that if you didn’t love him. Maybe someday he’ll be brave enough to tell you how he feels. 

Eventually the air turned cooler and you started wearing some thicker clothes, watching as Vash tended to shiver in the early morning air while both of you were outside working. And in the evenings you went to work, going through the items left behind from your grandmother. Working on knitting him a long scarf, that thankfully only takes you about a week. Work might have gone a little faster if you and him didn’t end up in bed as often as you did as part of your nightly routine. 

And after the pants incident you had far more tact when you gave it to him. “I noticed you’re looking a little chilly some morning, and this isn’t me trying to get you to cover up. I just thought you’d like something to help keep warm.” Handing him the red scarf, and watching him smile. 

“Thank you.” Pressing the hand made item to his chest, a wide grin splitting his face as he felt the fabric. “I know it will help, especially because you made it for me.” Something about his words makes you turn red. 

The next morning, he had the scarf wrapped around his neck a few times so the loops fell more around his chest. Smiling at you as the two of you finished the last few items before any time outside would be recreational. 

After spending so much time outside getting the property cleaned up, you found yourself cleaning out more of the inside now. Not that it was a mess inside, more taking stock of what had been left behind by your grandmother and the generations before her. As you found things Vash often found himself out of sorts, unsure what to do with most items and there was a steady growing pile of things you didn’t plan on keeping. 

One thing that caught your eye had been some smaller carboys which Vash knew more about, and you were trying to make some fruit wine from the extras stored in the earth cellar. It would be a while before any of it was ready to try but you’d agreed it would be a good test for the summer when hopefully grapes would be growing on the vines. 

As you moved through the rooms of the house you came across a few stools that left you confused. Showing them to Vash, who seemed surprised. “These look more like seats for my kind to sit on.” Taking one of them and sitting showing it left his legs balanced at an angle that was comfortable for him.

“Maybe one of my ancestors had better relationships with your kind then? At least if there are this many chairs in the room.” Walking by as you look more in the room, a thick layer of dust on most of the objects around. 

“It’s a nice thought. Both of our kinds living together.” Something in his voice grabs your attention, heading back to where he’s seated. 

Reaching out to run your hand along his shoulder and down to the stub of his upper arm. “In case you missed it. We live together.” Smiling at him as he reaches out to rest his hand against your hip.

“Yea. I guess we do.” Voice wistful and his ears flicking back.

“What do you mean you guess? Last time I checked we share a roof, share a room. Not sure what else you’d call that then living together. Come on Vash what’s really on your mind?” Reaching up with your free hand to cup his cheek, which he quickly nuzzles against. 

“I…” licking his lips before taking a deep breath. “I care about you, a lot more than I should I think. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I. I want to be your mate.” This is the most embarrassed you’ve ever seen him and it warms your heart to hear him make that admission. 

Bending over so you’re eyes level with him, a soft grin on your face. “Mate huh?” Pressing your lips to his for a long tender kiss, when you pull away your lips are close enough to still brush against his. “I like the idea of being your mate.” Watching the grin grow on his face. 

With one arm he’s pulling you into his lap, grinding up against you making you moan as your lips meet once more. Panting and groaning against one another. Both of your hands moving to press against his shoulders, nails scraping along his neck and hair. “Vash?” Voice almost breathless as you pull apart. “Do you want to be inside me?” A low soft yes is your answer and another roll of his hips against yours. 

Scrambling out of his lap your fingers and moving quickly against the belt around your waist, undoing your pants and pulling them off as quickly as you can, underwear with them before crawling back into his lap. 

Lips reconnecting and you can feel the precum flowing freely from his tip as your hand reaches for him, a few pumps to smear the fluid around before lining him up and slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. 

Both of you gasping and you feel your neck arch back as he fills you, and as you slide down you know you never want to feel anyone else inside you again. Vash fills you in such a way that it makes a line of sweat break out across your back, beading between your shoulder blades and rolling down. You start to ride him in no time, the veins of his cock making you squirm, his one hand moving to pull your shirt off, burying his face in your breasts and panting against your skin as well. Biting and sucking the skin as you keep moving, a line of fire building inside your belly. Arms wrapping around his head to keep him close and you scream as you cum around his cock, feeling his seed paint your walls, both of you coming down from your high together. 

As time passed, the two of you often found your days either starting with a long slow session of making love before moving about the house for the day. Or retiring early for a hot steamy session, trying to see how many times you could spasm around Vash. One thing was certain, Vash never seemed to run out of stamina, always had a load ready to push deep into your core. You’d also told Vash he didn’t have to wear pants inside the house if he didn’t want to, which led to both of you sometimes having sex in random places and at random times.

On Christmas eve, the two of you were laying down on a pile of blankets and pillow in the living room, a fire going in the small fireplace that had been hidden behind a sheet of drywall. Laughing as your hands wandered over his skin, where it met his fur. 

“I just don’t understand how it can be that soft” giggling as you rub circles into the area.

“Maybe because I eat such a healthy diet.” Wiggling his eyebrows at you and you snort.

“Oh yea, almost nothing but apples.” Pressing a quick peck to the center of his chest. You watch as his face shifts, almost thoughtful. Rolling over, and running a hand along your side before standing and walking away.

“I’ll be back in a moment my heart” his tail swishing the floor behind him. 

You rolled your shoulders, before reaching out and grabbing your glass of wine, listening for his return. At the sound of his clicking hooves you roll over to watch him again, tossing an apple in his one hand. “Really. Another apple?” 

“It’s one of the special apples, I brought for the two of us.” Right, you’d almost forgotten about those, still unsure what made them special, but you had listened to the warning and made no motion to ever find or find out more about his brother.

“So, what makes them special?” You question as he rejoins you on the pile of pillows and blankets. 

“It’s said, they help bond two souls together, and bring those in love good fortune.” He’s grinning as he settles, holding the apple between both of you.

You smile “So. Were you hoping for an outcome like this?” Watching his face flush and his ears twitch, a telltale sign of his having been found out. “I’ll stop teasing you. So how does it work? I assume we have to eat it.”

“Yea, we eat it together.” Placing the apple to his mouth and sticking his tongue out to hold it up, and seeing it balanced on his tongue does things to the lower parts of your body. 

“Wait. You mean we eat the apple together, as in at the same time?” Waiting his eyebrows wiggle again, waiting for your head to move closer and as you bite into the apple, you hear Vash do the same. It has to be the most awkward apple you’ve ever eaten, feeling Vash place his hand against the back of your head, helping to keep the pressure on the fruit between both of you. The apple, also, is the best apple you’ve ever eaten, something about the favor being almost perfect.

In no time the fruit is gone, the core tossed into the fire, your and Vash’s mouths pressed together, tasting more of the apple on his tongue. Rolling you onto your back and grinding his hips against yours. 

The angle like this isn’t the best for him and the way his legs are shaped, but a few adjustments and your legs are draped over his, your back still on the floor so he’s in charge, your pants tossed somewhere else in the room. Feeling him starting to grind harder against you, lips reconnected once more. Struggling a little, his hand is occupied,  being tangled in your hair as his tongue explores your mouth. Reaching down you line him up and in one thrust he’s as far as he can go. Breaking apart Vash sets a quick pace, and it isn’t long until you’re cuming on his cock, moaning as he keeps going. Pulling a second from you in no time. 

Panting in your ear how he’s going to fuck you all night long and into morning, and you tell him to keep going even if you fall asleep, high on the sensation of Vash plowing your insides. 

Waking up Christmas morning, you find Vash under you and still in the living room, the fire has turned to a few dying embers. Snoring away, his one hand pressing against the center of your back and his cock still seated deep inside you. You lower your head back to his chest, listening to his heartbeat lulling you back to sleep again.

The next time you woke up, you were humming, stretching your arms up towards Vash’s shoulder chests pressed together and Vash on his back, his hips pistoning in and out of you. “Good morning handsome” letting out a shaky breath, sliding one hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“M-morning” stuttering and you can see a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, the veins of his neck standing out. Shifting your legs so the movement of his hips has his fur rubbing against your clit, moaning as the pressure builds inside of you. A few more thrusts from under you and he’s freezing, a whisper of your name and you feel him filling you up. 

Pushing himself up to change the angle of your bodies so he can kiss you, the taste of apples still strong on his tongue. “How many loads is that?” You whisper against his mouth, smiling as he nips at your lips. 

“Hmm, six, maybe seven?” That makes you laugh, taking a moment to adjust before starting to roll your own hips.

“Let’s have a whole day of this, I just want a day of us together. Nothing else.” Vash is quick to agree. The two of you only leave the living room for bathroom breaks and a small amount of food and water. By the end of the day you’re both too tired to move anymore, cuddling together and soft touches shared between you.

When spring comes, you’re amazed at the difference you can see from all your hard work, the grape vines full and lush covered in the small flowers. Even the fruit trees cleaned of the thorn vines that had been strangling them seem even more vibrant. That day as you took in the view and came across the area you’d first met Vash in just a year ago you find yourself swinging around and running towards him, jumping into his arm, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing him full of laughter. 

Five years later, you’re sitting in the office you made out of one of the rooms in the house. The camera turned on your laptop working out the final arrangements with the distributor wanting to sell your wine in specialty shops. Grinning as you hammer out the facts the barrels will be picked up and brought to another location to be bottled.

All of those details settled, you grin when asked if you want a name on the label besides the region and grape type. Letting a more comical side take over “The Satyr’s wife” you don’t hesitate as the name slips from your mouth with a grin. 

A week later you have the final contract in hand, as well as a final draft design of the label for the market. Taking the design to Vash to see what he thinks, heading down to the living room where Vash has his hand full, literally with a set of smaller hands held in his. Both father and son grinning as you appear, handing Vash the piece of paper and replacing his hand with both of your own. Taking your son around the room as he walks a bit more steadily on his smaller hooves, hooves that are still soft in comparison to his sire's hardened ones. 

That had been more than a painful feeling with those kicking your insides but the day he came into the world with your hair and his fathers eyes you couldn’t have been happier. Learning that any child you had with Vash would be male since his species required mates from another to reproduce, and you found it more than alright to know you’d have to deal with more hooves inside your belly.

Eventually Vash laughs pulling you back to the present as he looks at the name and the design of the label, a stylized Satyr with a set of reed pipes held up to its lips. 

You have to admit, you’re glad your grandmother left this place to you, glad to have found someone to love, just for being themselves and loving you the same. Even if you did find him tracking mud over your floors after it rained, annoying. 

Back to list

[hauntedestheart]

A Business Proposition (Male Bodyswap)

This is loosely inspired by the premise of the Netflix film Perfect Date (2019)... very loosely, with a tf twist.

Peter Turner loved people- he went to college for it, he often joked.

Unfortunately getting a job in the field of anthropology without a masters degree was damn near impossible, and the only thing more impossible was finding a way to get the money to fund graduate school.

His bachelor's degree had landed him a lofty position at Starbucks, and while the employee discount was nice, it barely paid the bills. Peter had to look into alternate revenue streams to supplement his income, and he decided to play to his strengths: his looks.

Back in high school he'd run a silly "perfect date" program where, for a price, he'd spend an evening offering the illusion of romance to a girl. He'd be a pretty face to listen to them talk and compliment them– all perfectly innocent fun, and he loved to make people happy so it worked out well for everyone.

Kickstarting the business back up as a 24 year old college grad was... a bit different. It had been one thing when he was a teenager holding hands with a classmate, but adults had different expectations and while he was clear he was NOT a prostitute, if he had to spend one more afternoon pretending to be a side piece to make an ex-husband jealous, he was going to give up on his dreams entirely.

Recently some sudden unexpected expenses had arisen and put him in a tight spot so Peter was desperate, desperate enough to consider taking up some of the more dubious offers he'd received because the money might be too good to pass up.

That’s probably why he didn’t get up immediately when a guy plunked down in the seat across from him.

“Kim?” Peter asked, eyeing the boy sitting across from him. He was a gangly looking Asian fellow, probably around Peter's age, who looked like he didn't get out much if his rumpled clothes and shaggy hair were any indication. His pale skin highlighted the dark bags sagging beneath his eyes, which despite the rest of his appearance were bright and alert.

He was decidedly not the girl Peter had been booked to see.

“Yeah that’s me." The boy flashed him a sunny smile, as if nothing was wrong. “Thanks for showing up, I saw your posting and knew that you would be perfect.”

“Sorry, I don’t do dates with dudes.” Peter said, crossing his arms in the way he knew made him look vaguely intimidating. “Pretty sure that it said that in the description.”

Kim chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not hitting on you. I’m just here with a business proposition.”

“A what?” Peter was confused. He shook his head. “I’m not interested in pyramid schemes man.”

“No, I assure you it’s relevant to your business,” Kim leaned forwards and smiled wolfishly at Peter. "You run a dating service, right? I'm about to revolutionize your business model. What if I told you that, through clever allocation of your resources, you could outsource your labor while offering clients a one-of-a-kind personalized experience? And all it'll take for you to get there is to sit here and listen to my pitch."

Peter wasn't an idiot, he had a college degree, which is why he was certain that that had not been an acceptable answer.

"Look," he tried again. "I promise this is not me being homophobic but like I said, I don't do dates with other men."

“You misunderstand," Kim said blithely. "I don’t want to go on a date with you. I want to go on a date as you.”

The young man paused as if this were some sort of mind blowing revelation but Peter just stared at him for a few seconds, dumbfounded, then rose to his feet.

“Yeah, sorry dude, whatever it is you’re after I don’t think I’m gonna be able to help you,” he said, then he turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Kim shouted after him, and something in his voice made Peter stop. The other guy sounded… genuine. Peter turned back to face the guy, and was surprised by the serious look on his face. “I know that this is very weird but I wasn’t sure how to ease us into this topic and clearly a cheesy line was the wrong approach. But you’re gonna wanna hear this, I promise I'm not wasting your time. I think we can help each other out.”

When he saw that Peter wasn't moving, he cleared his throat and continued. "Just hear what I have to say and even if you think it's a load of crap, I'll give you a thousand bucks. Sound good?"

Peter sighed. "Okay, fine. What is it?"

The other boy glanced around, almost nervously, and then gestured behind himself.

"Not here, we need to go somewhere private," Kim whispered, his previous confidence gone. "Are you comfortable going to one of the conference rooms? I'm not gonna do anything crazy, I promise."

Peter took a moment to mull over his options. On the one hand, going off with a stranger to an enclosed location seemed like a very bad idea but on the other hand, he was probably four inches taller than Kim and Peter could probably bench press the boy so he didn't feel very threatened. What he did feel, however, was curious.

"Lead the way."

Kim, it turned out, was Kim Shinwei, an eccentric young tech millionaire who had made his fortune developing a range of programs and technologies that included the very service Peter had used to build his own app. But his real passion was a secret, experimental project he'd been working on for a few years.

"You're joking, right?" Peter asked incredulously. He waved at the air. "Is this a hidden camera show or something?"

Kim seemed less than impressed. "I'm dead serious."

"A body swapping machine?" Peter scoffed. "You expect me to believe that?"

Kim's eyebrow quirked up. "You think I can't do it?"

"I think it's impossible," Peter said flatly.

"Nothing's impossible if you really put your mind to it." Kim paused. "Plus have the funding, the time, an extensive knowledge of the relevant, fields, and so on and so forth. But I wouldn't be talking to you if I hadn't already tested it and been 100% certainty that it would function."

Peter was skeptical. "How does it even work?"

"Honestly it's a lot of math and science that would take too long to explain, and I doubt you'd even understand most of it," Kim winced, as if processing his own words. "No offense, it's just really complicated. The point is I have it, it works, and I wanna use it with you."

"Alright, let's say I do believe you," he eyed Kim's skinny frame distastefully. "Why would I want to trade bodies with you?"

"Not permanently, I would like to stress that," Kim hastened to say. "The technology operates off of a neural link modifier that, in my simulated studies, struggles to maintain a connection for longer than about a week. This would be strictly temporary."

Peter crossed his arms. "Doesn't answer the why question."

"And that's an excellent question!" Kim nodded. "I can understand why you'd be confused by the prospect of seeking a new body since you're..." Kim's eyes scanned Peter, lingering for a moment too long on his broad shoulders and toned chest. He licked his lips. "You're quite the physical specimen. I, however, am confident enough to say that I am not. You have something that I want and I'm... willing to pay for it. Even temporarily."

"So you'd pay to switch bodies with me?" Peter clarified, dumbfounded. "Temporarily?"

"Exactly!" Kim exclaimed, misreading Peter's confusion for enthusiasm. "It's perfect."

"So you're suggesting that I let you rent my body?" Peter repeated. "Like it's an Airbnb?"

Kim's brow furrowed. “Dude, you rent out your body to girls all the time.”

“Yeah, but usually I’m still the one in it.” Peter stood up, offended. "I'm not interested."

“I’ll give you $10,000 for 24 hours. That’s all.”

Peter stopped. That was… a lot of money. A whole lot of money that he could very much use.

He sank back down into his chair and sat there for a moment, chewing his lips and mulling over his options. Kim leaned back in his chair, a smug expression on his face.

"And this would all be above the board, right?" Peter asked. He couldn't believe he was actually considering doing this, but the money seemed too good to be true. "You're not gonna try to double cross me or run off with my body or something, right?"

Kim chuckled. "As wonderful as it would be to look like you forever, I have built a life with this body that I'm not keen on giving up."

"And I get to set some of my own terms right?" Peter shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "Because I don't want you to do anything nasty with my body."

"My lawyers have already drafted up a provisional contract," Kim said smoothly, with the practiced confidence of someone who had closed dozens of business deals before. "You're free to have your own legal counsel look over it and propose revisions."

Peter nodded, although he knew that hiring any sort of lawyer would be out of the question given his financial straits.

“Why me though?" he found himself asking.

Kim smirked. “Let’s just say you were the right combination of willing to talk, desperate enough to swap, and hot enough for it to be worth it.”

Peter frowned, but didn't argue with the fair assessment. “Isn’t this just another expression of late stage capitalism where everything, even our bodies, are becoming commodified?”

“Pretty with a brain, I like it,” Kim shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah probably. But then don’t you want to get in on the ground floor of it?”

Peter's realized that he was out of questions, and his stomach sunk when he realized he had his answer.

"I'll do it," he sighed and rose to his feet, sticking his hand out for a handshake. Kim stood up as well, but paused before he took Peter's hand. A strange expression crossed his face.

“Actually…”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“Before we do this, drop your shorts.” Kim commanded.

Peter did a double take. “What? Why?”

Kim crossed his arms and smiled. “If I’m shelling out this much money I want to see what I’m getting first.”

“Seriously?” Peter asked. Kim’s expression didn’t change, and he glanced down at Peter’s shorts and back up again, quirking one eyebrow. Grimacing, Peter unbuttoned his shorts. He knew what he was packing and had never been ashamed of it, but he also didn’t make a habit of showing it off to strangers. As he let his privacy drop to the floor he prayed that the awkwardness of the situation wouldn’t cause his junk to shrivel up. Every inch counted right now. Kim’s eyes widened when he saw Peter��s manhood, and his mouth practically began to water.

“I’ll throw in an extra thousand.” He finally said, after an uncomfortably long beat of staring. “Congratulations, by the way. You’re… you’re very gifted.”

“Thanks.” Peter mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact. “So the deal’s still on then?”

“Oh the deal is absolutely on.”

“Then can I put my pants back on?”

Kim sighed. “If you must.”

=

Peter and Kim sat across from each other at a table in Kim's kitchen, a small white bead jam packed with electronics anchored to the back of each one's neck, and Kim pressed a button on his phone. (The device was controlled by an app, of course.) There was a jolt and the two young men went blank, then after a moment the two snapped back to attention as if “rebooting.”

“Holy shit it worked…” Peter said, his hand going to his throat when he heard the sound of Kim’s voice rather than his own.

“Oh my god, this is so cool!” Peter’s body shouted, now under the control of Kim. He leaned back into his chair, stretching the length of Peter’s body as he felt the muscles and sinews of his body pulling. It was a far different experience than that of his own body in ways he had never even considered. 

He arched his hips and groaned when he felt his new member pushing into the fabric of his jeans, stretching into what felt like forever. In an instant he was on the feet with his shorts on the floor, freeing his new cock to bob before him in the open air. He gaped like a fish as he stared at his borrowed appendage with awe, and the real Peter yelped in surprise.

“Um, excuse me?” Peter was shocked by the other man’s forwardness. “You’ve been in my body for ten seconds and you’re already hard?”

Kim didn’t say anything in response, he just grinned from ear to ear as he flopped Peter’s increasingly firm erection around.

“Dude, stop acting like an idiot in my body!" Peter's unfamiliar new face flushed red. "It’s a penis, you have one too.”

“Yeah but like, not like this.” Kim exclaimed, popping his hips so his dick bounced as if to emphasize his point. “You’ve had this thing your whole life man so you’re used to it. This is new to me and it’s fucking awesome. How big is this thing, you ever measured it? Doesn’t matter, I can find out later. I’m hung!” He shook his prize.

“No, I’m hung. I’m just letting you borrow it for 24 hours, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, right, of course.” Kim said, flexing Peter’s muscles. He giggled slightly as he watched his biceps balloon outwards, bouncing them up and down in turn like softballs. “Damn… you work out?”

“Obviously I work out, people don’t just look like that.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“No, they do not.” Kim mumbled as he stared at his abs, rubbing both hands over them to familiarize himself with the ridges. “They most certainly do not.”

“I can’t believe that this is real…” Peter pressed his hands on either side of his body, twisting side to side to observe himself from all angles. “I haven’t been this skinny since I was in middle school.”

“Middle school?” Kim asked, pausing in his examination of his new body to shoot Peter an amused look. “Nice humble brag.”

"Just saying," Peter shrugged. It was surreal to see his real body from the outside, and even more surreal to see him groping himself like a horny idiot. He watched his face light up as Kim's hands found his ass for the first time, and he wasn't sure if he should be feeling violated or flattered.

"Anyways, we've been over the rules," Peter continued. "No drugs, no alterations to my physical appearance, nothing illegal, and no sex."

Kim winced at that last one. "And you're sure about that?" He palmed at his new crotch and grinned. "Because I'd be willing to pay, I didn't realize it would be this good."

Peter deadpanned, unamused. "Yes I'm certain, and I believe we have a contract.

"Alright, alright," Kim waved his hands in defeat, then an impish grin split his face. "Maybe next time. Anyways, you're free to hang here but I'm heading out– the clock’s ticking and I wanna get my money’s worth.”

Kim bounded out of the room on his new, powerful legs, and Peter sighed behind him. He really hoped that this wasn’t a mistake.

[xoxoemynn]

Hi friend! I appreciate your fighting spirit and hope for S3. As much as I'd like for it to be renewed, I think it deserves more than max would give. I'd prefer someone else to pick it up who would give them their 10 episodes and the amount of time they need.

Would it be more beneficial to campaign at potential buyers for a rescue rather than pleading with someone who's already made their decision? I feel like the BBC at least already had enough interest that they brought the broadcasting rights, and they have no problem with short running (3-5 season), 10-episode series. They also have an MO to run programming that is representative of the license fee payers.

Idk, as a UK resident this is the best scenario I can think of. I'm not as familiar with other companies, and I know viewer opinions do carry weight as pretty much everyone in the UK is taxed to fund the BBC. They have a televised show, Points Of View, which is entirely for people to contact with their feelings about currently airing programs.

I don't expect you to have the answer, just thinking out loud! (I did contact renewasacrew about this but haven't heard anything back yet). Regardless, I did contact the BBC myself saying why it'd be beneficial for them to rescue it the day after we got the news.

(They also have a good track record for releasing stuff on DVD)

Yeah, I agree that OFMD is too good for Max. To have a show do THAT well, and then receive a 40% budget cut for its second season, and then get canceled before it can complete its story? Insulting.

I have no industry knowledge, so this is me just wondering out loud, I keep going back and forth on what would be more likely, Max reversing its decision or another streamer picking it up. On the one hand, reversing the decision would be a blow to Zaslav's ego. Men like that don't like admitting they made a mistake. On the other, I imagine there would be more red tape to go through selling the show elsewhere? I don't know! I just wonder. And I just really want that final season!

I don't know a ton about BBC, but from what you say here, it seems like a solid option! And from what I've been hearing, reaching out to specific services (as opposed just tagging all of them in every post) is the way to go. Make it more personalized, make them see the benefits, etc.

Now that @asneakyfox has won me over, my preferred choice at the moment is AppleTV. There's an international audience, they don't seem as IP hungry as Max (Ted Lasso was also anticipated to be three seasons from the beginning, and that's what they got), they appreciate unique, quality shows that value storytelling that may not be picked up elsewhere, such as Severance. They don't seem as strict on run times, so it means we may be able to get longer episodes with Taika and Rhys doing bits! And there are a good amount of parallels between OFMD and Ted Lasso (feel-good comedies that go surprisingly deep, found family, discussions of mental health) that OFMD could very much fill that void Ted Lasso left behind.

But we'll see what happens! The important thing for now is to just continue making it clear how beloved OFMD is and how any platform would be smart to pick up a show with such a passionate, loyal fan base.

[vermont-writes-fanfic]

Getting Hurt While Protecting Them

Prompt: How do the Detriot Become Human characters react to you getting hurt while trying to protect them

Request: No

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, Mentions of abuse (Alice & Todd), mentions of blood, injury,

Characters: Kara, Marcus, Connor, Hank

A/N: This is something I had sitting in my writing binder for a little while and I thought I'd just go ahead and shore it here lol, if you come across it than please enjoy and leave feedback! The Deviant version will be next in line!

Kara

It was during a visit to your brother Tod's house, you were their to drop off some money. You knew he was addicted to the new drug on the market, Red Ice, so you had offered to help him pay his bills and hand him some money to take care of Alice in hopes that he would get back on his feet. As you were getting out of the car you heard a scream and rushed in to see a frightened Alice hiding behind Kara, a high Tod in front of them with a look that you weren't to happy about. He raised his hand to swing and before he even layed a finger on her you were in front of Kara taking the blow. You could almost hear the wind displaced by his handd as it swung down on your cheek,hard. As the sting of the slap subsides and the warmth of blood pooling to the surface of the area begins the taste of metal hits your tongue and you spit it out into a stray napkin giving your brother a vicious glare. As you turned and made sure Alice was okay, Kara examined you. As you turned to her to ask if she was okay she nodded, perplexed almost. You couldn't help but notice her LED flickering as she looked at you.

Marcus

You were a friend of Karl's, and made it a point to frequently visit him. Always kind, the type one would expect Karl to hang around, you encouraged Marcus to act freely and of his own accord rather than the order of others. One night, Leo - Karl's son- came around asking for some money. You offered it but on the orders of Karl, Marcus prevented you from funding any of the activities Leo got up to. Already not a fan of the android, Leo ignored him and took to trying to guilt trip his father instead while advancing closer to him. Marcus stepped between the two of them causing Leo to pause in his steady advancements towards his father. Leo, aggravated by the androids interferance, shoved Marcus out of the way but Marcus wouldn't have it. Before Marcus could even caculate the outcomes Leo to a step sending a large part of his body into a rage withdrawal induced punch. You, at the last few moments stepped between them takin the blow instead. Quickly realizing his mistake, Leo turned tail and rushed out of the area down the stairs and out the door while Marcus checked Karl's vitals.

"Why did you do that?" He questions once he is satisfied with what he had examined.

"I coulnd't very well just let the prick hurt you now could I?"

"Hm..." He doesn't respond, as if he is registering something.

Connor

Chasing Deviants was always a work out, it was better than the situation at hand though. A Deviant andriod had a knife held to Hank's throat while his 'friend' was running at Connor. You knew you needed Connor so when you realized what the deviant was going for, Connor's Thirium pump, you dove right in front of the attack. The hand sunk into your flesh leaving you out of breath right before its hand dug deeper into your skin and tore a sizable chunk from your stomach leaving you in pain. With the deviant distracted however, Connor was able to pin it down to thee ground and hand cuff it with the spares Hank had given him. At some point, to cope with pain, you had sat down and Connor came over to you and helped you up helping you head to the EMTs, the entire time his face looked off.

"Why are you looking at me like that Connor?"

"You are hurt, that deviant was not going to hurt you. "

"It was going for where your thorium pump is, we needed you functioning fully."

"I have several minutes before I cease to function without my Thirium pump, you did not need to interact in a way that was detrimental to your health."

"Instinct Connor, it was instinct to help us all okay? Just take it as face value, I sacrificed a chunk of my body to catch some Deviants and keep you safe."

"Besides, isn't that kind of trauma the thing that causes deviancy in androids?"

"I have no signs of deviancy."

"Sometimes I wish you did..."

Hank

You and Hank had partners for years and with Connor, injuries to humans such as yourself are more than prone to happening. He just came home from Jimmy's Bar, heavily drunk, when he was called to ,and entered, the crime scene. A deviant suspect snapped and engaged in a fist fight with it's owner before fleeing into the basement where it was now cornerd by you, Hank, and Connor. To save Hank from a long winded speech and the rest of the office from Hank and Fowlers less than civil disagreements, you stepped in front of Hank getting between him and the deviant. It took every chance and engaged in a fightt with you forcing you to take several blows before you could pin it down with the help of Connor. Seeing you bruised and bloodied was enough to sober him up, and the moment you three were back in the car he sent a long drawn out lecture about just how stupid your descision was.

"Do you have any idea how fucken stupid that was? What if that thing beat ya to death?"

"How about a thank you for saving your drunk ass from a deviant and Fowler?"

A beat of silence is followed by a sharp fatherly glare as you smirk and speak again.

"No? You just gonna ignore that?"

Hope you liked it! Feel free to request stuff!

[pangtasias-atelier]

Cafe Chonkies

This has been in my drafts for some time but finally churned out another idea for a l3agu3 story. This is kinda jokey at the beginning cause it's funny and also cause I kept adding to this story so now it's at like 5k words lmao. Also don't worry about how any of this makes sense in canon cause I sure didn't lmao

Featuring Yo/ne, Se/tt, & Ka/yn cause this is a gift for @beepboop260 despite me being a day late lol

Warning: This is a fetish story!

“I’m to do, what?” Kayn smooths out the singular minor crease on the very bottom flap of his black suit. In his uniform, the stuffy attire never feels quite right compared to his more casual style of dressing, but with a tantalizingly nice paycheck always awaiting him, Kayn can put up with the effort of appearing somewhat proper. Said paycheck is nice enough for him to get past his small beginner belly that is clearly evident by the form fitting suit.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Kayn having questioned his boss, she ignores his pointless question. Instead, Renata Glasc pulls out a cigar. And it’s the fattest, biggest stogie known to man, it juts out a several feet in front of Renata as she lights it and takes a drag. And she blows the smoke at Kayn directly into his face as if he were a poor, small Victorian child. Which he might as well be next to her, Renata one of the most disgustingly filthy rich people in all of Valor. 

Of course, with so much money built off the back breaking, dulling work from everyone besides oneself, laundering money is a necessity. Renata’s cutthroat nature involving anything and everything meant that a fair amount of what was meant to be simple “business ventures” actually flourished. 

One such business being a maid cafe, the idea originally pitched by the upcoming group of interns hired to help the company keep an aware mind of the spending habits of the younger generation. And also for free labor, mostly for free labor actually. The idea eventually proposed to the companies’ executives through spinning the narrative by somehow making it about turning gender norms around by creating a maid cafe with instead butlers to allow women to regain empowerment and also even creating an lgbtqia+ friendly environment, the idea had been approved like many others all to secretly launder money. 

What no one had expected — no one besides Renata who easily predicted the likelihood of such a venture gaining traction — was that the many degenerates who enjoyed going to such places would easily fund said businesses. And there was no shortage of equally degenerate individuals who would apply for such a job, especially one that paid well — nowhere near close to the amount that Renata herself earned of course.

As Kayn coughs into his gloved hand, his smoke delirious mind envisioning as if the smoke was forming around his neck and choking him, Renata takes a second drag of her fat ass cigar. 

“Well? The boss shouldn’t have to be at the store for work to get done,” Blowing one more puff of smoke at Kayn, Renata passes by the no smoking sign as she goes into her office. 

Now free, he takes off his gloves so as to not dirty them. Kayn first opens the couple of windows that can be opened. He takes a few deep breaths of fresh, non-smoke filled air before doing what Renata asked of him. He rummages through the store’s stock of food. Clearly told which items to grab, he grabs everything that is within thirty days of expiring. He grabs a bevy of different pastries, the sugary calorie dense sweets piled onto a couple massively wide serving trays. And after finishing that, he starts digging through the entire stock of drinks. The place trying to maintain a semblance of upscaleness — a point that allowed them to easily upcharge on everything — Kayn pulls out all the fresh ingredients close to expiring. He places them on the counter and sorts them by recipes. Having memorized a good chunk of recipes from his long time working here, the task goes by quickly as he sees which drinks can be made from just near expiring stuff. Upon completing that, Renata’s project finished, Kayn organizes the pastries a bit better to help make the bundle of food more appealing. 

Eventually, he hears the faint chime of the doorbell at the front. Without even paying much attention, he walks over to go open the door, the other two employees right on time.

The two of them far newer than everyone else, the two had quickly become popular with the store’s clientele. Which when next together makes evident why both had become popular. 

A fiery red mop of hair atop an outstandingly tall figure, Sett has much more than just height to draw in a crowd. His entire figure teems and bulges with muscles, Sett seeming out of place working in such a place instead of being in a bodybuilder competition. His suit is tailored just like all the other employees, the sleeves of his suit just stretchy enough to not tear from his powerful biceps that can rival the size of someone’s head even when only mildly flexed. His chest similarly strains his suit. His breast pocket had gone unused ever since joining, no room to fit anything inside with how much space his jutting chest takes up. His suit remains unbuttoned, a purposeful decision to show off the struggling buttons of his white button up. His body thick and wide, the tiny gaps of his shirt offer the smallest window into seeing his tanned defined abs. Sett’s trousers are also designed with the similar mindset of giving the customers what they want. His perky bubble butt gained through years of dedication to squats and cycling is perfectly outlined. His rear is equally a spot of admiration from the guests, many grabbing it just as they do his pecs and biceps. His strong thighs also press against the thin yet durable fabric of his trousers, the defined musculature even visible. His trousers tailored to taper along the hard contours of Sett’s body, even his bulging calves seem impressive. 

Next to Sett is another rather large individual. Piercing black hair that drapes all the way down the man’s back is Yone. Yone stands at a rather short height, his slightly below average height typical of those from his country. However, his musculature is atypical. Or rather, his clear lack of it. For Yone is a complete butterball. Originally only a bit past pudgy, Yone’s time at his new job easily found him packing on the pounds. His rather sizable tummy is now doughy enough to sag down to just barely cover his crotch, his belly covering up his fat pad. The lone, singular button on his suit is actually buttoned. Although it is strained by holding back the waterfall of flab. The shape of his chunky love handles are accentuated by the flaps of his suit, the material curving outward to accommodate Yone’s flabby curves. Both his soft, squishy gut and love handles receive special attention from the cafe’s guests, Yone getting his own demanding share of attention from the usuals. The suit is tailored to make sure that it fits him well; the sleeves bulge from his bulky arms, the flabby rolls that encase Yone’s biceps outlined. Despite Yone’s top heavy figure, his rear still has a good amount of heft to it. His ass shakes and wobbles behind him, the two cushiony piles of lard stretching his pants. His thighs also shake and quiver from waddling around the store.

The fact that they joined at the same time helped further everyone’s enamorment with them, the duo practically being given almost always the same shifts like today. Which made sense with the two being a couple, Yone only applying due to Sett’s insistence. And because they both needed the money. 

The intrigue of hiring a duo had captured Renata’s attention, the boss herself bothering to care about the cafe due to the enjoyment of seeing what she considered people desperate enough to work at such a place and the people degenerate enough to stay and enjoy the humiliation. The two being in a relationship was meaningless, not with Human Resources preferring to protect the company rather than the individual. 

Kayn unlocks the door with the keys given to him and stands aside as he opens the door for the two to walk in. Individually of course, the doorway not quite made with the expectation of two large men entering together. Sett ducks slightly, his ears scraping against the top of the door otherwise. Yone feels the sides of his gut brush against the door, his face always turning a faint shade of blush like every day he starts his shift. Kayn flips the sign to open before closing back the door so as to avoid a draft. 

Next to the other two, Kayn is far more plain. Standing at an unassuming height of just a couple inches above average. The most striking feature about him is the scar on his left eye. A feature which adds to his edgy, bad boy vibe and charm that attracts a different clientele compared to Sett and Yone. Though the two’s clientele have begun to rub off on Kayn, the longer working employee having gained a bit of heft from all the food offered to him. Far from fat, his stomach is only a small beginner’s belly. The extra food coupled with Kayn’s usual workout routine now leaves him with a slight bit of both musculature and pudge. Which the cafe’s usuals enjoy with them having another one to poke and prod and feel up. 

Sett is the first of the two to notice the stockpiled food on the counter. “Oh hey, it’s clean out day,” Walking side by side with Yone, he pats his boyfriend on his doughy back with what would usually be an infectious grin if not for the only other men being the grumpy Kayn and stoic Yone.

“You wouldn’t stop mentioning it during our entire day off,” Like the rest of the employees, the trio only work four days of the week so as to not be full time and receive benefits; as such, Yone had specifically been given the day before and after today’s expected busy day. Yone waddles on over to go behind the counter, careful to properly maneuver and bump into the furniture with his large, sagging belly and wide hips. His stomach gurgles and grumbles, the fat male clearly a bit famished. Sett follows directly behind Yone; he grabs and fondles his belly, feeling the heft of it like he always does.

“I’ll prepare everything. You,” Kayn points at Yone. “Go sit on the main couch cause otherwise, you’ll eat everything before anyone gets here. Sett can help make sure everything is clean,” Kayn bossing the other around often, the other two do as told. Sett does his task with much more fervor than Yone, the obese butler grumbling as he does as instructed. Sett makes a show of his cleaning, an extra swish in his hips and ass with what should be simple movements. And flexing his huge biceps by lifting the largest pieces of furniture to dust them. 

The beginning of the day is pretty much dead, which is to be expected when the first day of the month is on a Wednesday. Despite not opening until noon, the day starts off with a slow unsteady trickle of customers coming and going. But the ones that do. make sure to take advantage of the day’s special offer always provided on the first of every month — a tradition that began shortly after Yone’s employment. 

Expired goods once being thrown away straight to garbage instead of being offered to food insecure people lest people believe Renata to be anything resembling a humanitarian, the business’ clientele allowed to do basically whatever they wanted to the staff — which isn’t far off from any other job offering customer service — allowed the guests to offer food to their staff. Food purchased only from the cafe, of course. But to help boost sales, and save what would usually expire, anything purchased came with the bonus of an extra pastry or small beverage, which would more often than not be fed to the usual victim, Yone. It takes approximately a little more than thirty minutes of being open before they receive any guests.

They receive two at once, the both of them clearly together. 

“Welcome! Come on in,” Sett greets them with a simple flex of his right arm, not willing to show off everything right away — especially when mostly everyone today is mostly going to be here for Yone. Despite the two being usuals, they still fawn and aww over Sett. Well, one does; the other goes straight to the counter to order and bother Kayn. Sett looks down as he feels a pair of hands on his chest. “Damn, you always do get handsy. Not that I mind,” Unable to get the best look because of his chest and with his guest barely coming up to his tits, he smirks at the bit of his customer. Sett allows himself to be manhandled. He holds back his laughter from hearing Kayn’s harsh remarks as he gets grabbed, the cashier’s demeaning nature a turn on for some people.

“If you’re going to harass someone, go bother the lardass on the couch,” Kayn hands two of the free pastries, but not without getting a pat on his small tummy. Which leaves him with a scalding red blush on his face.

Sett soon ushers his own guest to go bother Yone. “Seems like your friend is done. Go give Yone a good squeeze for me,” 

And so, Yone promptly ends up with both of them at the same time. The couch is thankfully wide enough to accommodate multiple people even with Yone sitting on it; Yone sits in the center while the two customers sit on each side of Yone. The two given their own bonus pastry as they await their order, they hold it out with an eager outstretched hand for Yone to eat. Their extra hands both rest on Yone’s great, big belly.

Money being money, Yone shifts into his usual work behavior. “It warms my heart to see such treasured guests once again. How may I help you?” Yone deepens his voice ever so slightly. He leans back into the couch, both of his arms outstretched on the couch behind both guests.

Both of his guests giggle to themselves, both of them used to Yone’s portrayal of the stoic, caring butler, especially when Yone basically does nothing throughout most of his shift besides eating whatever is handed to him. The two clearly together, they take turns offering their treat to the large man. Both of them rest against his cushiony figure, sinking into the sides of his flabby, rotund gut. Yone tries to take small bites of the confections — the blueberry muffin and cream cheese danish always some of his favorites — but the guests nearly shove the treats down his hungry maw, Yone forced to eat larger bites. The confections are some of his favorites, though everything is Yone’s favorite whenever it comes to whatever the guests feed him. 

“Ah, such ea-” Yone’s words are cut off with the final bite of the danish shoved into his mouth. Though he doesn’t object much or at all even, instead he greedily chomps down on the offered delectable treat with a bit of a flush to his face. And before he can properly fully enjoy the aftertaste of the danish, the rest of the blueberry muffin is similarly crammed into him. 

“Alright, here’s your food,” Carrying one server tray in his right hand, Kayn brings the two their food — though it’s more so Yone’s food considering everyone feeds him like a pet waiting for its treats which isn’t too far off from the truth. Small tables are situated at both ends of the couch. So Kayn places the food on each table, a decently sized bowl of soup on one table and a hefty sandwich on the other end plus a complimentary water with each serving. “Enjoy your food. Though it seems this hog is going to be the one enjoying it,” Kayn reaches forward to grab Yone’s gut. He pushes against the mass of blubber, seeing the way his hands sink into and squish Yone’s blubber. “Make sure to enjoy him as much as you can,” And with a final smack to the side of Yone’s gut, Kayn heads back to the counter to await whenever the next guest comes on such a slow day.

“Open wide,” Yone’s guests ask, no command of him. Careful to not waste a single bit of the food, one of them brings the sandwich to Yone’s mouth. He dutifully chomps down on the meal; the well toasted bread crunching as he chews on it, the warmed cured meats and cheeses seemingly melting in his mouth as the still cool spinach and tomatoes offer a bit of contrast. As he chews, his other guest wipes away the crumbs that dust his cherubic cheeks and chin. He promptly is given a spoonful of soup. A simple, warm tomato soup offered to him, Yone can taste the hint of rosemary and basil that compliments it. He can barely make out the distant grin coming from Kayn who made it exactly as Yone likes. The soup is also at just the right temperature so as to not burn his tongue. The two keep a steady tempo of feeding Yone, both of them clearly experienced at stuffing the store’s big porcine pet. Their turns of swapping are only interrupted when they bring their water to Yone and make him chug, forcing Yone to drink his fill. That and when Yone inevitably finished the sandwich first. Immediately after that, he’s promptly coerced into chugging the rest of the soup, the bowl brought and tipped to his lips while he leans his head back to eagerly devour it all. 

Yone accepts everything that’s handed to him, eager to please his two guests. He keeps on eating even when they order another soup and sandwich. He eats the extra pair of free sweets and the soup and sandwich afterwards. He eats it all without a single complaint until they stop offering him food. He allows them to rub his belly, the two of them squeezing and rubbing it as if it were both a stress ball and a good luck charm before they head out.

“Good job. Now you gotta last the rest of the shift,” Sett chuckles at Yone while he picks up the plates of food. He whistles to himself, aware that even if the day will be slow overall, it will inevitably pick up.

And pick up it does; it never gets as crazy as it does on the weekends, but the customers come and go in a steady stream. All of them come for the big main attraction, Yone. The food at the cafe rather decent, everyone at least buys one thing to pawn off to Yone, the dedicated fat butler eating every single bite offered to him. He even gets a whole group at once not too far off from closing, a whole gaggle of men greedily grabbing and feeding Yone as much as he eats. Which is all of it, the plump, fat Yone taking everything offered to him. Yone’s eyes droop throughout his shift with more and more food beginning to settle inside him. But he continues to lazily nod along to whatever is said to him, Yone also beginning to speak less and less as his mind starts to focus more on the stuffed nature of his gut. He lazily opens his mouth to every forkful and spoonful of what is given to him. His stomach loses its gelatinous and saggy nature, the ball of fat growing firmer with less give to it from all the food. And his guests love it, playing and rubbing his gut. Every single pair of hands seem to find their way to Yone’s gut, his skin slowly peeking more throughout his shirt as his shift goes by.

Thankfully for Yone, the very last hour of the day has them seeing no customers, Yone able to catch his breath after the stream of guests. His gut furiously churns with so much stuffed inside him; the sound seems to reverberate in his brain, his upset belly refusing to go unheard of. Yone simply remains seated in his couch, waiting for a possible last minute guest that never comes.

And as soon as the clock hits closing time, Kayn flips the sign over to ‘closed’. After locking the door, he heads back to the counter/kitchen to clean up. Sett cleans and organizes the front of the store. Meanwhile, Yone remains seated on his fat ass, a mess of groans now that all the guests are gone. He reaches down to whatever bit of his gut he can reach. So bloated, the button had come undone some time ago by most likely one of the several many guests who’d stuffed him.

Yone is fully reclined into the back of the couch. Having not moved at all throughout his entire shift, the couch has a large Yone-sized indent in the very center. The frame sags and bends down its center from his weight. His large gut rests atop his cushiony thighs. The exposed mass of blubber making up his stomach churns and gurgles from all the food stuffed and crammed into him. His stomach is far more taut than it usually is. The popped bottom few buttons of his shirt leave the lower half skin of his bloated belly exposed, the lower bits of flab escaping and sagging down the gaps of fabric; it also shows off his happy trail, the small trail of body hair thickening and widening the further it goes down his gut. Yone is nearly a groaning mess. He attempts to assuage the bubbling discomfort in his gut by rubbing his distended tummy. He reaches down as far as he can get, his hands only really able to reach the upper echelon of blubber above his cavernous navel.

“You feeling full yet, Yone?” Yone groans as Sett pats his engorged stomach. 

"Ughhh," Yone groans in response to Sett's question before letting out a small burp. "Soo full…" He remains seated on the wide couch, refusing to budge even an inch so as to not upset his tummy. His gut furiously makes its stuffed state known, his taxed belly churning and bubbling to do its best to digest the several pounds of food Yone ate during his shift; his belly refuses for its complaints to go unheard, Yone unabashedly groaning and wincing now with no guests present. He has his eyes closed.

And then he hears noise in the kitchen, the blender whirring to life as it’s put to work.

Kayn soon comes out behind the counter with a nearly full blender in his hand. And a makeshift funnel in the other.

Yone can feel his stomach churning just from him looking at the oh so full container of liquid coming his way. Yet he can’t get up, his oh so full belly making it difficult for him to do so.

“And here we have the last bit of leftovers,” Kayn has his usual shit eating grin on his face as he towers over the seated Yone. “Made sure to save some to make a special little shake for you,” Kayn delicately presses his fingers against the upper bit of Yone’s gut.

Yone tries his best to squirm away but his churning gut refuses to let him budge without a modicum of pain. Doing his best to look at Sett, he only sees his boyfriend happily grinning at the sight. Sett also has his phone pulled out, clearly recording the whole situation. That only turns Yone on, the thought of others seeing him like this-. He moans before he can finish that thought.

“You know damn well he approves of this. Now, open up,” Kayn smiles as Yone doesn’t even put up a fight, the butterball always happy to eat now, and think later. Kayn places the funnel in Yone’s mouth. Despite wishing to cram more food in his gut, Kayn does, at the least, make sure to not put any pressure on Yone while he kneels on the couch to fill him up. Kayn tips the end of the blender. The thick shake seems to slowly trickle down the funnel, Kayn never once losing his smile.

Yone accepts and awaits his fate. He has his eyes closed. The viscous, cloyingly sweet shake gushes down Yone’s funnel, the poor overstuffed man forced to accept his fat as he struggles to chug it all. He focuses on only drinking all of the shake and not his churning, gurgling bomb for a stomach that seems to kick and punch itself frown how much food Yone can and loves to put away. Each desperate, haggard gulp of shake that Yone takes is only replaced by more and more of the shake awaiting him, begging him to eat it all and satisfy the bit of his brain that craved to eat and stuff himself even more. Especially when he has an obedient audience of two in front of him. Kayn is unrelenting with the flow, but the rapid speed at which he pours the shake — and the rapid pace at which Yone devours it all — helps to make it not last too long. Soon enough, Yone finds the funnel pulled out of his mouth, the excruciating task of guzzling the entire blender worth of shake over as quickly as it began. 

“Damn,” Is all Kayn can utter upon seeing just how fast and obediently Yone put it all away. Turning to look at the now done recording Sett, all he gets is a thumbs up and a grin, Sett well aware of Yone’s submissive nature when it comes to food. Yone is a mess of huffs; he can only really take in quick yet deep gulps of air to try and hopefully wait out the pain of his entire stomach aching.

“You poor thing,” Sett joining the two, he truly towers over the seated, massive Yone. Yone averts his gaze, his face flushed. “Your fatass must be emaciated to be able to eat all of that,” Sett taunts Yone, the stuffed man turning more furiously red.

Kayn’s eyes widen slightly upon Yone’s continued reactions, his behavior suddenly painfully obvious to him. “And here I thought you had a bit more self-respect,” Kayn smiles down on Yone. “But you’re nothing more than a submissive glutton,” Kayn leans forward and places a slight amount of pressure on Yone who can do nothing else but whimper. “I’ll make sure to remember that for the future,” Kayn gives Yone a wink. He also goes back to his corner of the store to clean up.  But not before giving Yone a small appreciative pat on his overstuffed tummy.

Sett does the same, the two working quickly to finish everything before they get a furious work email about overtime not being a thing for them. 

Yone just remains seated, trying his best to digest everything. He stays in his spot on the couch even when Kayn finishes and gives him a couple headpats before heading out. Yone waits for Sett, his boyfriend not having much left to clean.

And as soon as Sett finishes cleaning up he walks on over to Yone. Clearly unaffected by the large binges having taken place today, Sett retains every ounce of powerful muscle on his frame. "Let's get you home, big guy," Sett leans over to help him up, bringing a powerful bicep to help him up. He peels Yone up off of the couch. And Yone quickly uses Sett's body to lean on. His big gut sloshes and sways with his heavy step. His entire frame jiggles and wobbles from the effort of waddling to maneuver such wide, fat thighs. One step after the other, Yone is a mess of groans, the movement clearly upsetting his gut. A gut that makes its stuffed state known not only to Yone but to Sett as well, the churning of his stomach extremely loud. 

"Hang in there," Sett rests a now ungloved hand on Yone's gut, Sett having removed his gloves immediately after work. After slowly easing Yone through the doorway, in which Yone has to walk through sideways. Both his ass and gut graze against the sides of it. The building armed and locked and secured, Sett continues helping Yone walk with such a full gut. 

"I-I…" Yone manages to groan out while he uncomfortably walks despite so much food crammed into him. His porcine face creates a deepened frown from his doughy jowls. 

Sett grins as he helps Yone along; Sett grabs and pinches Yone's blubbery rolls. “Come on, we’re on after work hours now. Just say what's on your mind, or your gut in your case ‘cause that seems to do most of your thinking. Not that I mind, big fella,” Sett nimbly positions himself to stand in front of Yone. Leaning down, he uses one hand to help lift up Yone’s gut; his other hand reaches all the way down to Yone’s hand, a big heaping of Yone’s fat ass gripped. Sett leans down to kiss Yone, the much fatter man doing his best to lean into the embrace, even as Sett eventually breaks apart with a deep breath.

"I'm… kinda hungry… again…" Yone whines out. He leans a bit more of his crushing weight against Sett, Sett the only one able to truly support and help him. 

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Yone squirms under Sett's patting of his gut. "I'll make sure to properly fill that tank of yours, cause damn you can put away food," Sett picks up the pace.

Yone hums in agreement. Always so difficult to feel absolutely, completely stuffed, his current pretty bloated sensation feels nice but not quite enough. He takes careful steps to follow Sett's lead, stomach already churning to make room for extra food, the two always taking advantage of the job's free food to stuff him silly and plan to continue and take advantage of.

[scruffyplayssonic]

Are the ArchieSonic comics actually an 80's/90's syndicated cartoon? Episode 24: Villain forced to act good

Welcome back to my look at the ArchieSonic comic series, and how it shared a lot of the same story tropes as a typical ‘80’s or ‘90’s syndicated cartoon! Today we’re going to look at the question, “Was Robotnik really such a bad guy? Maybe there’s some good in him somewhere!” 

Episode 24: Villain forced to act good. 

So just to clarify, we’re only going to be talking about the main villain today, not the henchman. I’ll get to Snively later on, but today it’s all about Robotnik/Eggman. Let’s start with this comic:

A little background first: Dr. Robotnik was killed in Sonic #50, wiped out of existence by his own doomsday weapon after it had been sabotaged by Snively. He was replaced by Robo-Robotnik, later known as Eggman, in Sonic #75. After Knuckles developed god-like powers and broke reality, Eggman was able to build a machine that reassembled his predecessor’s molecules.

Robotnik, thinking that Eggman was an imposter, ordered the Swatbots to arrest him but received a rude awakening when he find out that they didn’t answer to him any more.

Robotnik fled to the Great Forest, managing to find the Freedom Fighters and asking them for protection from Eggman. The Freedom Fighters were naturally shocked to see their greatest (and deadest) enemy alive, but they took him to Castle Acorn anyway.

To Sonic’s outrage, the King and Queen granted Robotnik’s request for sanctuary. However they did order a medical scan to determine if he actually was really Robotnik or not, after Sonic pointed out that he could possibly be an auto-automaton or some other kind of trick. The medical scan determined he was really Robotnik though, so he was allowed to stay. And thus many wacky shenanigans took place! 

Hahaha! So funneeeeeeee! After a week or so, Robotnik claimed he was ready to face his other self and asked the Freedom Fighters to help take back his city. It was of course a trap, and Robotnik was revealed to have been working with his alternate self the entire time. But the Freedom Fighters were expecting a betrayal and were able to counter his trap, destroying the machine that had brought Robotnik back and leaving the two to fight it out over whose fault the trap failing was.

Happily, the problem of the extra Robotnik still being around took care of itself. Robotnik’s molecules were unstable, so when Eggman punched him he disintegrated and Snively took the blow instead. Wah-waaaaah.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention Sonic X’s El Gran Gordo saga.

Sonic X issues 26 and 27 saw Eggman taking on the persona of a masked wrestler as part of a get rich scheme meant to fund his latest Sonic-smashing weapon.

But here’s the twist - he was actually enjoying being El Gran Gordo! The fans loved him, including Chris Thorndyke, and he was lapping up all that attention.

Sonic was the only one who saw through his disguise, and decided he was going to put a stop to this nonsense by challenging Sonic in the ring. Eggman had, of course, been cheating in all of his matches, which meant that the fight against Sonic was a lot more even-matched than it should have been.

Knuckles figured out what was going on though and disabled the sabotage, allowing Sonic to get the upper hand. Sonic easily defeated Eggman after that, but Eggman begged him not to expose him, promising to end their feud if he could continue being El Gran Gordo.

Sonic reluctantly agreed, mostly because he didn’t want to shatter Chris’ perception of El Gran Gordo. And to Eggman’s credit, he stays true to his word. Unfortunately, Bokkun went mad with power after a sugar high and seizes control of the Eggman Empire, attacking one of El Gran Gordo’s matches while a bunch of world leaders were watching and taking them hostage. Even after teaming up with Sonic, El Gran Gordo was outmatched by Bokkun, and regretfully returns to being Dr. Eggman in order to stop him.

Dr. Eggman would later take on the persona of El Gran Gordo again after being challenged, having Bokkun impersonate him so that everyone would think Eggman wasn’t the same person as El Gran Gordo. But once again Bokkun took control of the Eggman Empire, so El Gran Gordo begged Sonic for help. He agreed, but only on the condition that he go back to being Dr. Eggman afterwards. Eggman had a condition of his own though…

Aaaaaaand I think that’s the perfect spot to finish up for today. Were there any other instances of the villain having to act good that I missed? Let me know in the comments! Remember, the henchmen are getting their own episode later, so this one is only for the biggest bads. Tomorrow we’ll be going over a similar trope: Hero and villain reluctantly team up against a greater foe!

[hulijingemperor2]

Yao: *reading reports in his study*

The Tianyue province requests to open a new home. Ah right away.

Su she: aw, you know you're so hardworking. I love you.

Yao: love you too, Shanshan.

Mo xuanyu and xue yang: *puppy eyes*

Yao: I love you guys too. *blows kiss*

Mo xuanyu: *almost collapses* 

Xue yang: you're such a diva. Ugh.

Jiggy. Hey Jiggy *reaches his hand in A-Yao's sleeve*

Yao: *smug look*

Su she: can you stop assaulting him.

Xue yang: shut up, you simp!

Yao: looking for candy?

Xue yang: duh Jiggy! Where is it?!

Yao: I knew that you would do this, so I hid it somewhere else.

Xue yang: JIGGY! Did you hide them in that floof of yours!

Yao: haha, no yangyang. *takes a pouch out from his desk* here you go. A whole sack of candy.

Xue yang: awwwwww Jiggy. My love. This must be a week's worth.

Yao: 2 months worth. As always.

Mo xuanyu: it's xue yang we're talking about, Yao gege.

Yao: oh right, hahaha.

Su she: then Song'er takes some of his candy.

Xue yang: spoilt kid.

Yao: and who spoils him other than me.

Su she: team D.

Mo xuanyu: your entire empire to be honest.

Su she: yea everyone gotta love Dianxia.

Yao: because he's cute.

Xiying: *enters with some tea*

Huangdi. Your favorite rose petal tea. 

Yao: oh my, thank you very much.

This was unexpected.

But I know who requested it.

Xiying: yes, you're correct. Enjoy your tea.

Team Dimple: Lan lips.

Mo xuanyu: where did he come from!

Yao: *laughs*

Oh there's a note.

Xue yang: since when is Lan lips so romantic. Eww.

Su she: congratulations! He have reached maturity.

*rolls eyes*

Mo xuanyu: what does the note say, Yao gege?

Yao: he's asking me to meet him in the the indoor rose garden.

Xue yang: he could have done better than that.

Yao: *sips tea*

Su she: he could have bought a palace and carry you there. Come on, evacuate all the Lans from the cloud recesses and use it as a vacation mansion for our glamorous A-Yao.

Mo xuanyu: what a lazy guy.

Xue yang: the emperor of Hulijings is Lan furen. He has a right to do that.

Su she: A-Yao owns the Jianghu and no one knows.

Yao: oh guys. You're too extreme.

But I love it when you state facts.

*sips*

Trio: as we must Jiggybuns! Love you!

Yao: *smile*

Well my reports are done. I read all 400 of them.

Fuying.

Fuying: mn. I'll deliver them to your officials, Huangdi.

Yao: *smiling*

Tell them that my organisation and I will certainly fulfill their requests.

I would also fund their construction projects.

Fuying: of course, Huangdi.

Yao: yes.

Guess I should meet Huanhuan then.

But.

Mo xuanyu: but. *blush*

Yao: you guys can give me a kiss, before.

Su she: ah! How heavenly!

Mo xuanyu: oh heck yea, Yao gege!

Xue yang: *kisses hand*

Mo xuanyu: *kisses his neck*

Su she: *kiss his dimples*

You're so precious.

Mo xuanyu: *hugs* Yao gege. You're mine.

Yao: awww. I'm always yours too!

Now I got to go guys.

Xue yang: I hope you give Lan lips a deep kiss.

Su she: yea. Even though he can't handle your hotness.

Yao: *laughs*

Lol.

*finishes tea* see you soon team D.

No mischief.

Xue yang: why would we do that Jiggy?

Hehe.

Yao: because you're team dimple.

Song'er will be watching you!

*exits*

.

Mo xuanyu: guys, Yao gege is so gorgeous.

Xue yang: definitely.

Su she: he's my muse. And do you see how hardworking he is.

Fox spirits have it all. They don't complain about anything.

Su she: I think we should have an appreciation party for him the day after tomorrow.

Xue yang: that's a great idea. And we can invite the fox spirits of course.

Mo xuanyu: yas! That will be so lit! And we should keep it as a surprise ok.

Trio: Yes!!

Rusong: *passing by* oho, keep what as a surprise.

Xue yang: Song'er! Come help us 

Ruosng: yea, I'm in.

Mo xuanyu: we're planning to throw an appreciation party for Yao gege.

Rusong: awww. That's so sweet!

I'll help you guys!

Su she: right!

Well you can invite the fox spirits and Xuan huangdi.

Rusong: mn. Sure thing.

Xue yang: I'll deal with the catering.

Maybe I can borrow some of Jiggy's chefs.

Mo xuanyu: and yea, I'll talk to some other hulijings to help us. They'll definitely love to do this for their Huangdi.

Su she: for real. They love their Huangdi a lot.

Rusong: yep! This will come out fabulous! And I know that A-Die would love it.

Mo xuanyu: are Fuying and xiying busy with Yao gege? His personal attendants would help us a lot.

Rusong: nah they're free. Because A-Die went to meet Shizun.

~~~~~

On the other side!

Xichen: *waiting*

Yao: A-chen.

Xichen: *turns around* A-Yao.

*holds his hands and kisses them*

Yao: *blushes*

Xichen: *kneels*

Yao: *giggling* oh gosh, what are you doing.

Xichen: I'm just happy that my emperor came to meet me.

Yao: A-chen, stand up. You're making me shy.

Xichen: why are you shy? *hugs him* there are only roses here.

Yao: have you heard of flower spirits, Lan lips?

Xichen: they dare not eavesdrop on Huangdi.

*caresses dimples*

Yao: I see.

Xichen: *hands him a rose* let's have a seat. I made more tea for you, and requested some rice cake.

Yao: *smile* lovely.

Xichen: *pulls out the chair for him, then helped him sit.*

Yao: let me pour some tea for you.

Xichen: no. It's for you.

You work so hard, trying to serve your people and loved ones. Making sure that everyone is contented in the empire. *pours*

Yao: *blushing* aw you're so sweet.

Yes I do see myself as hardworking.

Xichen: you are extraordinary.

Yao: *sips* delicious tea.

Xichen: great! Now try the rice cake.

Yao: sure. *takes a bite* ah yes. Perfect!

Xichen: I got some loquats for you too.

Yao: oh my! Those are my favorite. As it reminds me of you.

Xichen: anything for you. And they are now in season.

Yao: delightful. Gusu is very beautiful by the way.

Xichen: I wish I can give you Gusu as a gift. But I know that you're not selfish.

Yao: it's ok. I don't want such a big gift.

I only want loquats.

*laughs* but that reminds me what Minshan said. He wanted you to evacuate the Lans from the cloud recesses and use it as a mansion for me.

Xichen: why doesn't he do that to Moling.

And I'll definitely do better for you.

Yao: oh my, are you two still fighting.

Xichen: Su vs Lan is still prominent, A-Yao. But I'm trying to forget the past.

It will be healthy for you, and Song'er.

Yao: how sweet.

But Huan, what is so bad about a person leaving your sect and starting his own? Everyone got the opportunity to rebuild their sect houses.

Xichen: *sigh* you do have a point. But we just see through our perspective

Yao: ah. OK.

Xichen: *fumbles his hand* that's why you're extraordinary. You have a different way of seeing things.

Yao: but Huan. If something happens to me, would you team up with him?

Xichen: yes. I'll do anything to protect you.

Yao: *blushing*

Xichen: Anyways A-Yao. I feel like I'm taking up too much space in Jing Manor. I should do something.

Yao: like what?

Xichen: anything. *puppy eyes* can Huangdi get a job for me?

Yao: haha, let's see what the options are.

Xichen: I can't be a chef.

Yao: yea, stay out of the kitchen.

Xichen: I can't be a general because you have two generals already.

Yao: hmmm.

Xichen: I don't want to be an eunuch. Because, you know why.

Yao: ohhhh Huanhuan, I don't believe in castration. My eunuchs don't need to be castrated. I believe that they should have a stable family, because family life is key to the development of an empire.

And hulijings are very flirty so....

Xichen: amazing!

Yao: you can be a Human Resource representative! And secretary.....

Wait no, that's occupied. Sorry.

Xichen: well can I be a musician in your court?

I have pledged to please you.

Yao: that sounds great. You're an excellent flute and guqin player.

Xichen: *rests his head on A-Yao's lap* thank you my love.

Yao: *pats head lovingly*

And you don't take up space, sweetheart. Don't worry.

Xichen: do I have to compete against Su she?

Yao: no darling. Minshan plays the guqin for me privately. So you both won't meet up in the court, lol.

Xichen: but on the sideline, I'll open a bunny farm!

Yao: excellent. Feel free to use part of my garden.

Xichen: thank you!

Xichen: would team dimple cook my bunnies?

Yao: hahaha. I won't let them.

Xiyao: *elegantly watering the flowers*

Yao: *smiling gorgeously*

Xichen: *staring at him* you're so ethereal and delicate. No wonder you're Huangdi.

Yao: thank you Huanhuan. *blushing*

Xichen: I want to spend my whole life with you.

Yao: sure. You can.

Xichen: luckily we have reached immortality and high cultivation. So we can spend the rest of eternity together.

Yao: mhm. That's the sweetest fact.

Xichen: A-Yao. how about we do some roleplay.

Yao: sounds fun.

Xichen: think of a scenario.

Yao: you think of one.

Xichen: you're a shy little fox spirit Huangdi, while I have a crush on you.

Yao: ok. Heehee.

And we're meeting in Yunping.

Xichen: yup.

Now let's start.

Yao: *opens fan*

Xichen: greetings Huangdi.

Yao: ah...you are?

Xichen: Lan Xichen from GusuLan.

Cloud recesses. But my title is Zewu Jun

Yao: *bows* glad to meet you, Zewu Jun.

Xichen: *stops him* no, it's improper. You don't need to he formal with me.

I'm the one who's supposed to be formal with you.

Yao: *laughs daintily*

No need.

Xichen: mn. *smiling*

Yao: I felt as if you were admiring me for a long time.

Xichen: yes.

Yao: same. I have heard a lot about you.

Xichen: oh really, then why did you ask for an introduction.

Yao: because you must introduce yourself in front of Huangdi.

Xichen: isn't that so

Yao: *demure* you Lans have many rules, but still have to practice manners.

Xichen: *blushing, and trying to figure out a way to tell him about his crush*

You're right.

Yao: mhm.

Xichen: Foxy.

Yao: *gasps cutely* how do you know?

O...only my close friends call me Foxy.

Xichen: *rests hand on his lap* may I call you Foxy? Or A-Yao?

Yao: *blush* either one. Whatever you like.

Xichen: A-Yao. You have the cutest little dimples. Can I kiss them?

Yao: of course. Um may I call you er ge?

Xichen: definitely. I would love that. *kisses dimples, then strokes his hulijing tail*

Yao: *smiling*

Xichen: I guess this is the right time to tell you.

That, I'm madly in love with the emperor of Hulijings.

I had a crush on you for so long.

Yao: *heart pounding* oh my, er ge!

I....I...love you too.

Xichen: I hope I get to marry you some day!

Yao: I hope so too. But you got to come back to Jingjing with me.

Xichen: I'll do anything! I'll even abandon my sect for you.

Yao: *covers mouth* no er ge. Don't abandon your sect.

Xichen: I'll do anything for you, Foxy.

Yao: aww.

Yao: *pulls him into a deep kiss*

Xichen: *holding the back of A-Yao's head.

Yao: ohh Xichen!

Xichen: Foxy. *kisses* foxy.

Yao: I love you so much.

Xichen: I love you too, my beautiful Huangdi.

You rule my heart.

Yao: awww.

[koreanolive64]

Flatbed & Rollback Tow Trucks for sale for Beginners

When you find yourself adhered on the roadway and in requirement of a tow, which haul truck would you choose to call? What's your encounter/idea that obtained you to the flight terminal and how did you handle the puzzle? Discuss your take in below and leave a remark. Tell us what you think by hitting "Submit" beneath. This article might consist of hyperlinks to Amazon or various other partners; your purchases via these hyperlinks can profit Serious Eats. Read additional concerning our partner connecting policy. Some people don’t actually care which tow vehicle comes to the rescue as long as they are rescued. It's like throwing funds in to the ocean, and not believing.". If 24 hour towing look at it the other means right here, what we are finding with the motor vehicles coming down coming from the mountain range is precisely what occurred right here during the height season. The cars are going to be towed to the saving, but as the time passes, their tow trucks quit for a complete 90 seconds. On the other hand, some people firmly insist on possessing flatbed tow trucks simply because some folks suggest them to do therefore. In this situation, the feedback was in reality to have their garages be steered through a flatbed tractor, but with thus little gas required. While some may take offense, it is feasible that these folks strongly believe in God merely because they think that it is better to get your life all together as you go concerning your day than to specified up a individual automobile. Flatbed tow vehicles are fantastic for a assortment of causes and they are additionally ideal for a variety of scenarios. Having said that, they possess a possibility to blow up in your car when the steering pillar acquires hard to always keep stand-up. Below's a video coming from an examination that takes you to the garage where you could find an ax properly made and you could really ride your tow vehicle certainly there through yourself. If you're significant about going to a garage, there's an additional choice out there certainly. We’ll talk about these functional devices in even more in detail under: Why Need to You Utilize A Flatbed Tow Truck? I lately went via my excursion with a flatbed vehicle and a flatbed cab, one that I never made use of extra commonly than I would have just liked. Both were reasonably brand new. The vehicle I possessed was a 2002 Honda Civic, therefore it appeared rather much like a genuine flatbed. But I didn't understand I required to swap out the back for the front one. Better Safety For Vehicles If you are anxious regarding the security of your lorry, after that the greatest tow truck to utilize is the flatbed tow vehicles. They are designed to lug cars for as long as essential. They are quite sizable to pull on a lot, and they can be quite costly to purchase and several opportunities over. A lot of the automobiles we have discovered that have flatbed tows do not possess any air bags accommodated, so that prevents any kind of unexpected decrease in the motor vehicle. The reason for this is that the vehicle is maintained entirely off the roadway by means of the transportation. The primary make use of of the lorry for this function is to deliver for transportation to college, workplaces and various other sites in the area such as public bus stations and train terminals in core Moscow, and likewise to sustain the procedures of the airport terminal in the situation of crashes. The vehicle driver of the bus (at least that is how it is named) was able to access the automobile for the very first opportunity in December 1980. This means that all the tires are protected particularly coming from irregular damage and split. Very most notably, and not minimum because of how limited it is, tire treads are not the kind of material where there is actually any type of abrasion on the tire. I locate that there would be some advantage of making use of non-rear-facing tires with an typical velocity of around 50 mph but not excellent reliability on the throttle. In phrases of cornering efficiency, nonetheless, the footstep is not all that grippy. If you are looking into stopping early repair and substitute of your tires, at that point a flatbed tow vehicle is the best means to go. It is rather simple to install. It can easily be located directly in front of your home or can be held as a portable tire package, although if you are bring the van as an help you will definitely need to have to buy one. It is worth appearing at our substantial internet site, as properly as a excellent web list.

Being off the street additionally avoids the vehicle from working in to bumps and gaps as it is drew. The protection of the vehicle driver's head is the even more necessary item of the challenge.". The system permits the automobile to instantly spot a wreck and to aid with collisions in numerous situations through supplying emergency braking, brake lightings, side-impact diagnosis and even more. This procedure was authorized through the US Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit in May 2014. Also, the cars and truck is much less likely to be destroyed through clutter on the roadway in this technique. The motorcyclist was hurt, thus his collision need to have been prevented. Featuring a big face (and a little nose) or little hands, you may be startled by how similar some of the qualities of this vehicle become in front of you. It simply comes along because you're a really athletic person and desire to be able to attacked a road and struck a hard object well. Compatible With A lot of Vehicles Unlike other kinds of tow vehicles, flatbed tow trucks are a lot more extremely versatile when it happens to the cars and trucks that they can easily carry. For instance, they may carry over the program of two hours to three days at marginal cost to the driver. To carry heavy volumes of traffic all over a vast wide array of motorways, flatbed tow vehicles can easily be set up in a lot of area, and can easily often be rented, with the same facilities and amenities when using common trucks.

[clancyhinson00]

Three Mistakes To Avoid When Shopping For Used Louis Vuitton Handbags

But what actually are in these replica finds that maintain others coming again for extra bagsvip.com. Continu studying my hands-on review of LV replica shoes... If you’re seeking to buy a stunning designer bag replica, but don’t quite know who you can trust with your hard-earned money… I extremely recommend the identical vendor I bought from. In truth, the company presents something for any situation, as they have an entire line of every thing from purses to totes and wallets to luggage. Not only does their entire product line possess elegance, but they also come infused with quality that will literally last a lifetime. [newline]And, that's the similar requirements that we set for our name model copy purses. It is secure to imagine that you just already know the qualities that make Louis Vuitton stand out amongst the competition. The worst half is the majority of the sellers are promoting these used Louis Vuitton purses as genuine. Made with satin laces, they looks exceptionally luxurious. While the stiletto heel is female sufficient. If you look at the pattern diagonally, the order of 1 strip ought to be a fleur-de-lis, a circle, one other fleur-de-lis, then the LV emblem. skel.io louis vuitton replica The strip alternating it should include solely the fleur-de-lis symbol. If the letters are wonky and not completely aligned, the bag isn't authentic. For Louis Vuitton bags, the stitching thread is extra of a mustard color than a brighter yellow hue. In reality, the artisans behind genuine bags are so expert that the variety of stitches on one deal with matches the other. First, the stitching must be absolutely flawless. No unevenness, odd spacing, or loose stitches must be found anyplace on the bag. In truth, Louis Vuitton luggage should have the very same variety of stitches on both sides of the bag with no variation. Stitching is commonly one of many tell-tale indicators of a fake designer purse. These letters characterize the 12 months it was made. Next, the numbers following represent the month. The last two letters point out what country the bag was made in. wikipedia handbags We are glad to offer essentially the most modish and good purses to fulfill your wants. My way of life is definitely not funded by some type of trust fund. It’s not like I can blow $2,000 on a random bag. All you have to do is ship us high-quality pictures of your Louis Vuitton merchandise and we are going to get back to you with the outcomes inside 24 to forty eight hours. The results will also include a report on why we imagine your LV product is pretend or authentic. On the “VUITTON” print, you can see how the letters look a lot thinner than they have to be, and the way on the legit sneakers, the text appears lots thicker. As you would possibly have seen in the fake vs actual Louis Vuitton Archlight picture above, the replica LV sneakers have their insole looking fairly totally different. For your reference, this time we’ve taken the actual vs faux Louis Vuitton Archlight, which are also another actually in style pair of LV trainers. As for the second-best step of the guide on the means to spot fake Louis Vuitton sneakers, we are going to move contained in the shoes and inspect the printed textual content on the insole. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my replica can be enticing sufficient to really draw the eye of women around me on the grocery store, bank, and virtually wherever else I toted it! The constant compliments just reinforce how top quality this bag is. Here are the primary causes I am satisfied with my LV bag! Even the rivets should be stamped with the total “Louis Vuitton” emblem. One approach to affirm if your bag is real is to additionally examine the rivets on the within of the bag for the brand name and ensure all of them match each other. One thing to recollect about high-end luxurious luggage is that every little thing is done to perfection. What’s extra Worldwide shipping from our online retailer is free. If you simply need such a pair of seasonal and fashionable sandals, Yves Saint Laurent ysl tribute sandal replicas should not be missed. Even if the bags are designed for the young ones, there are still a few of them with a bit of classical design, such as the Miu Miu Nappa Frame tote bag. However, the same tote bag can be sophisticated looking, made from Nappa leather, and is adorned with golden particulars. The Bow bag can also be considered as a classical alternative with a business stylish enchantment. With the popularity of designer bags at an all-time high, extra counterfeit luggage are hitting the streets and online auctions. Don't be fooled into purchasing a Louis Vuitton bag that claims to be the actual thing when actually, it is not. It may be tough at instances to inform a pretend from an genuine however there are several methods to determine the difference between a genuine and a fake purse.

[nevertheless-moving]

Quinlan's hands had dropped to his face sometime ago. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure how to comfort him. He had asked, and quite frankly, Obi-Wan could really use the help of another shadow for the final Kamino infiltration.

"I know it's a lot to take in—" he began softly, only to be cut of by a hoarse chuckle.

"You really don't see it, do you?" Quinlan asked, looking up at him incredulously.

"See what?" the time traveler asked nervously, twisting to stare at the holoboard mapping Sidious' master plan, a carefully constructed counter at the end of every twisting vine strangling the republic.

"What this looks like!" Quinlan replied, gesturing broadly.

"I'd say it looks terrifying," Obi-Wan answered dryly. "And you can see why, given Palpatine's position, I've had to respond secretly."

"Respond!" Quinlan ran a hand through his hair, barking out another laugh. "Respond. For fuck’s sake, if it were anyone but you telling me this—and if you were telling anyone but me—Obi-Wan you haven't just responded, you've won."

"Well—" Obi-Wan hedged, edges of his lips curling up. "I admit, it would be very difficult for the Sith to win at this point, even should I die, I've got deadman's messages prepared for the Council and relevant Senate members. Still, my current defense against the clone army is hardly acceptable, so you see why I need your help infiltrating the Kamino command center when I make my move—"

"Obi-Wan." Vos pressed his hands together, thumbs digging into his chin and inhaling sharply. "That's not what I mean. I mean that you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, have won the galaxy. You could literally declare yourself Emperor today."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Don't be absurd. What, just because I've got the command codes to disable the droid army and the bombs under the Senate and Temple?"

"Or activate them," Quinlan said gently.

Obi-Wan scowled. "Don't joke about that—I would never—"

"I know," the psychometric interrupted, tone careful. "I know you wouldn't. But you could."

Obi-Wan shifted uneasily, staring at his plans again. It...had occurred to him of course, that an unscrupulous actor could do tremendous damage with the information he had painstakingly acquired. It had been difficult, to thread the line of giving Sidious and his allies the rope they needed to hang themselves, while still making sure he could pull it taught at the critical juncture. He had been proud of how he had managed, but the end result was...an awful lot of power. Consolidated in his hands, instead of Palpatine’s. 

“I still couldn’t—this still isn’t enough to actually control the galaxy, that’s the point. Sidious needs war to break out first, and he needs to be seen as the one whose ending it, first—it’s the only way to get the more influential  democratic systems to give up their powers. Anyway, back to the point, I obviously would rather not take away the clone’s freewill, even with something as innocuous as Order 6, which is why I need you to disable the orders at the command center.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan, I’m on board with the plan, I just—” Knight Vos pressed his hands to his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you—you already have the power that Sidious would need a war to achieve.”

“What are you talking about? No I—”

“You’re rich!” Vos burst into motion, flipping frantically through glowing screens to pull up the distribution of BK’s funding. “You’re funding the non-partisan corruption watchdog movement, and providing social services—if that was public knowledge—if any of this was public knowledge—you would instantly be a shoo in for Supreme Chancellor.”

"That’s...an exaggeration,” Obi-Wan protested.

“Is it?” Quinlan asked manically. “You are in the top 10,000 wealthiest people in the galaxy. And, unlike the other 9,999, your funds are clean. No trade federation, no blanking clans, no mining guilds. Just incredibly popular music and ridiculously smart and/or lucky investments in value neutral to actively humanitarian businesses. Can you imagine how much the good leaders would respect you, if they found out all this? How much the gold-diggers would try to cozy up to you, when they find out that you’re just giving away your multiple fortunes, try to encourage you to invest in infrastructure projects on their homeworlds—”

"I—”

“And that’s not even the whole picture! That’s just where the money is coming from, and how it’s being used. BK already has a cult. People adore him. The clones already feel like the owe him, since it’s public knowledge that he’s a major supporter for the resettlement program—when they learn about the anti-chip stuff—Obi-Wan Kenobi is going to have statues put up once you uncover Sidious’s plots—”

“I don’t want people to know about the vode’s chips—integration is difficult enough already,” Obi-Wan said lowly.

“Yes, fine,” Quinlan said, pulling up the alarming schematics of the droid foundries. “The trade federation’s still on thin ice after the documentation of their maneuvers of Naboo—When the galaxy sees these—learns you're blowing them all up before they pull a Naboo on the entire galaxy—they’re going lose their minds. Obi-Wan, it would be so easy for you to control the galaxy right now. I know the Sith did the groundwork and you were just ripping away the reins from the guy who actually did want that, but you were scarily successful. You actually have the narrative that Palpatine is trying to fake.”

Quinlan paused, smirking. “And you’re way hotter. Pretty sure if you came out in all black and said you want to grind the galaxy to dust beneath your heel, people would line up to get stepped on.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, falling back into a chair. “...I don’t...I didn’t...see it that way.”

The Kiffar Knight sighed. “Like I said if it was anyone else—but you’re you, and I’m me, and I 100% believe you when you say you successfully plotted total galactic domination accidentally. Just...let’s pull the rug out from this guy’s feet before we tell the council, or I think they’ll have to arrest you.”

(rest of this au here)

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: The Passion of the Christ

At what point is it okay to separate the art from the artist, and at what point is doing so simply impossible? Let me give you a few examples to illustrate my thoughts.

In the case of H.P. Lovecraft, I think it’s okay to enjoy his stuff. Yes, the man was virulently racist and xenophobic, and yes, it does tend to bleed into his writing from time to time… But here’s the thing: He’s dead. He’s not making money off this anymore, he’s not naming any cats racial slurs, and he’s thankfully not on Twitter. By reading his stories and using his public domain creations in your own works, you’re not lining his pockets or pushing his agenda. Of course, I believe acknowledging his bad views is important, but I also don’t think buying a Cthulhu plushie means you hate black people.

In the case of JKR, it’s not okay. Rowling is a miserable, virulent TERF who uses feminism and her own past negative experiences as a hammer to beat down trans women every chance she gets. By watching the movies of her work, buying her books, retweeting her, and openly expressing your love for her in fandom, you are in effect advertising for her and funding her hateful agenda. Not to mention she has tons of racist, transphobic, and anti-Semitic themes woven into the very fabric of her works. This woman ruined goblins, and that alone is a sin more unforgivable than any curse she could ever write. Now, if she dies (or better yet, is assassinated), and hate groups no longer profit from her, then I think liking her shit is fine. Whatever. If JKR is down having tea with her like-minded buddy Thatcher in Hell, I think watching Daniel Radcliffe and Alan Rickman transform her awful prose into something watchable can be done guilt-free.

And for when it’s impossible… Well, I think Mel Gibson nailing Jesus to the cross is about the point where you can’t ignore subtext anymore and you’ve gotta quit that cold turkey.

Yes, I’m not kidding. Gibson’s hands are the one hammering those nails into the Lord, and that one simple fact undermines the entire story and just serves to highlight how demented and evil Gibson truly is. For those who are blessed not to know who Gibson is, he is a miserable washed-up action star who was the lead in films like Mad Max and Lethal Weapon, franchises that would have been enough for him to coast by on goodwill for the rest of his life… But then he had to go and blow it all. Racist rants. Horrific anti-Semitism. Conservativism, the list surprising thing here since it really only makes sense he’d be right-wing considering the other stuff.

And then here he is, making a movie about one of the most beloved Jewish men in history being brutally maimed, tortured, and executed, and he’s the one pulling the metaphorical trigger. It’s unsurprising every conservative dimwit from film critics to Bill O’Reilly bent over backwards to defend this, but goddamn Roger Ebert? He gave this movie four stars, denied anti-Semitism, and called it the most important version of this story ever? Seriously? I couldn’t even charitably call it a good version of the story. Look, I get it. I get the Passion is about his sacrifice, that’s all well and good. And I get that it wasn’t pretty. But the way this is filmed, the way it lingers on our boy JC’s suffering… It feels less like an honest and frank attempt at spirituality on Gibson’s part and more like self-serving torture porn so he can live out his twisted fantasies.

It’s not even possible for me to praise the things that, in other contexts, would be worth praising. All of it being subtitled, the set design, the acting, how can I lavish any praise on it when it is a hateful movie made by a hateful man? It’s impossible here. Gibson is a despicable, evil man and it really seeps into this film, especially with how he portrays the Jews. In her own review, Katha Pollitt said "Gibson has violated just about every precept of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops own 1988 'Criteria' for the portrayal of Jews in dramatizations of the Passion (no bloodthirsty Jews, no rabble, no use of Scripture that reinforces negative stereotypes of Jews.) … The priests have big noses and gnarly faces, lumpish bodies, yellow teeth; Herod Antipas and his court are a bizarre collection of oily-haired, epicene perverts. The 'good Jews' look like Italian movie stars (Magdalene actually is an Italian movie star, the lovely Monica Bellucci); Jesus's mother, who would have been around 50 and appeared 70, could pass for a ripe 35." Rowling would be proud of this crap. It’s just a miserable, miserable movie, and yes that’s part of the point but it’s impossible not to read into it in the worst ways because of who Gibson is.

Gibson has never even apologized for how he is. People like Robert Downey, Jr. have called for us to forgive him, but what has he ever done to deserve it? He just keeps on being an evil man, saluting Trump and acting in racist movies alongside fellow right-wing hack Vince Vaughn, while reaping in all kinds of rewards for his directorial efforts. He barely suffered at all for his horrifying, toxic behavior, but he gets to lay claim to having the most controversial film ever made, and it’s not even controversial for the right reasons. I remember people being more up in arms over the violence than anything, and yeah, the violence is so over-the-top to the point of being unnecessary, but I think Mel’s rampant bigotry seeping through the screen is the bigger issue here.

There is literally no reason to watch this movie. You want a better look at the final days of Jesus? Scorecese made The Last Temptation of Christ. Don’t want to feel miserable while watching Jesus die? Jesus Christ Superstar is right there. Do you absolutely have to watch a version of Jesus that has the involvement of a stupid old bigot? The Life of Brian is right there. All that The Passion has to offer viewers is misery, brutality, bleakness, suffering, and bigotry, and we get enough of that in the real world without watching it on the screen. If Gibson really wanted to make a beautiful and personal film about Jesus, maybe he should have done a more wholesome and uplifting part of His life, instead of the part where He is literally murdered. If this is what Gibson thinks faith is, that really says more about him than anything else ever could.

Fuck this movie, and fuck Mel Gibson.

[windblooms]

childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house.  spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader.  enemies to lovers  soft spot syndrome.  sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury.  also childe briefly in foul legacy armor.  canon-divergence.  2669 words (nice).  

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.  

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear.  while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either.  it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating. 

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to?  because you ran.  you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question.  it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city.  the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again.  initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive.  hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder.  however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism. 

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt.  make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set.  it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.  

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done.  it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose.  you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer.  outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual.  it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease.  the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark.  no lanterns, no lights.  you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold.  not typical of them at all. 

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag.  if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic.  you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver.  packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising.  at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future.  for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right.  now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng.  no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away.  a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is.  you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being.  turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options.  you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied.  you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition.  regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves. 

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng.  it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide.  cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other.  you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess.  you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble.  they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms.  their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty.  you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath.  his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave. 

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands.  you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back.  the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.  

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute.  he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him.  if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy.  no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves.  summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces.  except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees.  looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about.  his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt. 

you melt, and realize you should run away.  you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health.  you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either.  you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death.  “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness.  “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch.  is he trying to speak?  no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?”  you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound.  the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it.  the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face.  you already know what you’re going to say.  even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head.  “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze.  he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side.  when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say.  “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater.  his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding.  “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh.  he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why.  underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous?  you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity.  the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear.  blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time.  you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you.  you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom.  “do not touch me, fatui.  i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant.  if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach.  you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth.  he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut.  “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this.  you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words.  your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp.  archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command.  the man repeats himself, before continuing,  “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten.  you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you.  he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.  

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more.  you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight.  you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him.  as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.  

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso.  a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people.  he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files. 

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Between Lust and Love 2/?

Summary:  You are standing on a bridge enjoying the view; Someone’s watching you from a balcony. The moon adorns your window; You adorn someone else’s dream. (Fragments, Bian Zhilin)

Rated E for explicit description of Zhongli’s wet dream

A/N: implied semi-public 3some

Chapter 2: I Adorn Your Dreams

-

The gentle and almost reverent touch of your fingertips as it ghosted through the skin of his chest was enough for Zhongli to be drunk on. The usually kept and proper funeral parlor consultant was lounging atop of his soft bed, his outer coat was left lying on the floor, his vest unbuttoned along with his white shirt. You sat between his legs, crawling on top of him with a sultry look in your eyes.

The tent of his pants was noticeable, and Zhongli knew that he would not be able to remove the stain of his precum as your other hand lightly touched his groin, all the while smiling like a vixen as you placed kisses on his stomach slowly making your way up, each touch of your lip sent an electric shot down his spine, making his cock ache for you. And yet he made no move to hasten you, he waited for you to serve yourself to him, an arrogance well-deserved for a man—nay, a god like Zhongli.

The way the soft orange light of his room illuminated you brought out your sensual side, the kind of eroticism that only existed between lovers found in stories, the red color of your hanfu was enough to make Zhongli think that this was the bridal chamber, and you were his eager newly wedded wife. The redness of your plump lips as it hovered before his lips tempted him to grab a hold of you, pressing your groin against his as he captured your lips. And that was what Zhongli did, the sudden friction caused by his hard cock that was pressing itself against your wet groin made you moan.

Opening your mouth wide enough for Zhongli to slip his tongue in and devour you, like a parched dragon finding a sweet oasis after a drought. Your sweet moans as your body surrendered itself to him only drew to make him want you more. Your clothes were removed from your body as Zhongli’s large hands explored the smooth expanse of your skin, he paid a particular attention to your chest, groping it and teasing it in the exact same way he had seen Childe done. His mouth had moved itself from your mouth to your neck biting  and kissing as he listened to the melody of your moans.

The broken call for his name as one hand groped your chest and the other gently caressed your thighs, sliding it open to rub your wet pussy easier against his hard cock. Your slick had drenched his pants and Zhongli let out a soft grunt of pleasure as you began to move your hips on your own.

His tied up hair was left undone, making it fall to the side and frame his face as he laid you on the bed, gently kissing your lips and committing into memory the taste of your sweetness. 

“Zhongli…” Your sweet voice called him and he smiled, you were such a sight to behold.

Your flushed face, coupled with tears that gathered at the edges of your eyes made his heart burn, the rapid rise and fall of your chest from the lust only made his cock harden further.

“Shhhhh” He comforted you as he placed a gentle kiss between your breasts before leaving a mark. He stood up and freed his hard cock from its confines, delighting at the way you drooled at the sight of it.

“Please...put it in already…” You begged, the innocent begging coupled with your lewd action of spreading your legs further apart and using your own fingers to spread your own pussy brought a tantalizing erotic sight that spurred him on.

“Anything for you” Zhongli replied as he grabbed his dick and slowly entered your wet pussy.

You moaned and your body arched as you felt his tip slowly enter, and then all at once you were filled with his thick and long cock, your toes curled in pleasure as you felt him move slowly before finding the perfect rhythm that made your mind melt from the amount of pleasure he was giving you.

The soft moans you let out, with the occasional broken call of his name made Zhongli pleased. He fucked you like the whore that you were, hands leaving bruises on your thighs with each hard and fast thrust he gave to your squelching pussy. 

“Zhongli—I—!” You came from one of his particularly hard thrusts, your pussy squeezing his cock so good that Zhongli came inside you. Spilling his thick white seed inside your pretty and glistening cavern. His eyes were closed from the pleasure of fucking you, the feel of your cunt and the sound of his name as you moaned appeased his inhuman side.

Zhongli let himself rest for a few moments before opening his eyes, to an empty room, devoid of you and any evidence of the lascivious deeds you had done together with him. The soft morning chirps of the birds outside his bedroom window, and the sizable stain in front of his sleeping robe made him pensive.

Zhongli sighed, and closed his eyes before opening it again.

“How am I going to face them today?”

While Zhongli pondered on his own day, neither you nor Childe were doing nothing. You were doing commissions for both the Mondstadt and Liyue Adventurer’s Guild while Childe was collecting information to prove your claim of Zhongli’s inhumanity.

Though you both knew that the Adventurer’s Guild was a strict non-partisan guild that held no ties to any of the nations of Teyvat, Childe also knew that it was an open secret within the Adventurer’s Guild HeadQuarters that you took private commissions.

Commissions that were illegal in nature, ones that were almost no different from the ones the Northland Bank occasionally did. So it hadn’t surprised the new recruits that you were to lead them for the day, Childe made no secret of his ties with you, though both you and him kept your romantic entanglement under strict wraps, that the two of you knew each other from birth was not unknown to those who knew to ask.

Your strength and undeniable mastery of your Cryo vision also led to the awe of the new recruits that was lent to you. It made your job considerably easier, more so since you were collecting information on the events that took place in Mondstadt, the Honorary Knight and the Dragon.

You knew how the Fatui worked, there was no reason why La Signora and Scaramouche would linger in the vicinity of Liyue. The Tsaritsa made sure to never let her Harbingers gather in one place for too long. 

‘Signora should have left after taking the Gnosis, there’s no reason for her to stay here this long and in hiding unlike Scaramouche’ You thought as you coldly watched over the recruits practice in Sal Terrae, ‘Scaramouche has been stationed here to prepare for Inazuma...there’s no reason for the two to linger, not when the entire plan has been ironed out.’

“Good job, Men!” You praised them, facade easily taking over your serious face “Lord Tartaglia would be pleased to know this particular batch of recruits are talented.”

Your smile turned sweeter upon seeing their pleased and puppy-like enthusiasm, “I’ll be sure to tell him that you lot are worthy of a spar for him.”

“““Thank you, Lady Columbina!!!””” 

You hummed as you looked in the direction of the dawn winery, the cogs of your brain turning, ‘Unless there’s another plan...one that my darling Tartaglia was not made aware of…’

As you played with this thought, the more likely it seemed, “Well then, as good as your battle prowess is, the Fatui must also be discreet in its dealings…”

The recruits listened attentively, standing straight as you walked between their ranks, inspecting them with the cat-like glimmer in your eye. You were living up to your fame as an S-class adventurer, you continued as you stopped behind them, smiling in the direction of Mondstadt and its repurposed castle walls, “For your next training, infiltrate Mondstadt without alerting your fellow Fatui and the Lord Harbinger assigned to it.”

You paused at their silence, “Ah, hesitating? How smart” 

Their unease could be felt in the air, and you couldn’t fault them. You weren’t a Fatui, you were just someone who was strong enough to work exclusively with one of their harbingers. 

“Face to the left!Face!” You barked at them, and they did so, “Face to the left! Face!”

You smiled at them once they were facing you, and yet the recruits could tell that despite the smile on your face, you weren’t smiling at all. You invoked a certain fear and awe, one that reminded them of Her Majesty’s Ever Winter.

“Lord Tartaglia would be pleased to know that this bunch of recruits can think for themselves…” You dropped your smile and leveled them a cold look, “Don’t worry, this training was meticulously planned by our beloved Lord Harbinger, Tartaglia.”

It was a lie but no one needed to know that.

“You have three days to prepare for the training mission, once you’ve decided on how to infiltrate Mondstadt, report to Ekatrina of the Northland Bank. You’ll be given your funds and then be dispatched.”

You left them and began your trek back to Liyue, Mondstadt’s wind gently blowing through your hair. You felt your good mood coming back, 

‘Ah~Today would be a good day.’

There were a few things in his life that brought him great unease, for Childe one of them was being subjected to your displeasure, the other was being on the receiving end of Zhongli-xiansheng’s unfathomable stare. And right now he was experiencing both, Childe cursed himself for forgetting his schedule.

He knew of your suspicions towards Zhongli, and he also knew that you understood Zhongli was necessary to achieve the Tsaritsa’s goals. He was lucky in that regard, you knew how to draw a clear line between your professional and personal life. It was one of the reasons why he had pursued a relationship with you. Beyond the love and bond forged from the harsh winter of Snezhnaya, whether he was Tartaglia, Childe or Ajax, the one thing constant among his identities was his love for you.

Which was why he had always done his best to make you happy, ensuring that you would live a comfortable and carefree life. It was the least he could do for being the way he was.

“My dear—”

“Mr. Zhongli, I know how lovely my Childe is but there’s no reason for you to intrude on our date.”

“Actually I’m—”

“Yes, our Childe is certainly a lovely individual, however our lunch appointment had already been scheduled prior to your arrival.”

“Xiansheng, I’ll buy you whatever you—”

“Oh? You’ve booked my Childe for lunch for his entire stay here in Liyue?”

“That-Darling it isn’t set in stone so—”

“Yes, after all is he not the diplomat sent over by the Tsaritsa herself?” Zhongli smirked, it was an uncharacteristic sight for him. One Childe hardly ever saw unless the man had solved a particularly interesting puzzle or problem.

Childe glanced at you and saw the hard look in your eyes, bit by bit the cogs of his brain turning rapidly as he pieced together your revelation and the information he had gathered over the course of the morning. Slowly the fog was lifting and the bigger picture was slowly becoming clearer.

He didn’t really understand what was happening yet but Childe trusted you, even though the churning of his gut was unpleasant... he could and easily stowed the unpleasant feeling away.

“Xiansheng.”

Zhongli turned and found himself the recipient of Childe’s charming smile, one devoid of any honesty. It was his business smile, often directed to the bank’s clients or in one particular case the Liyue Qixing.

“We’ve known each other for a while now,” Childe began as his hand reached for his teacup, “You aren’t the type to push something unless it was important.”

Zhongli could feel the temperature in the air change, and privately thanked Childe’s foresight to book a private room. On the other side of the table, you sat with your back straight and deceptively relaxed as you poured Childe his tea.

“Yes” Zhongli admitted as he stared at the floating tea leaves on his cup of green tea, he lifted his head to stare straight in Childe’s blue eyes, “I would like to offer a contract between you, your lover, and me.”

Childe blinked, his eyes staring at the odd glow in Zhongli’s eyes, one oddly reminiscent of a beast. A warrior.

‘Adepti’ his mind whispered. 

Childe wasn’t aware but the slow lift of his mouth, curving into a smile carried no trace of humanity, it was a smile that reminded Zhongli of the height of the Archon Wars. It was a captivating smile that took Zhongli’s breath away.

‘Ah, I really want both of them right now.’

Once lunchtime was over, the streets of Liyue was ripe with new gossip. In particular, involving the esteemed gentleman of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the consultant Mr. Zhongli, the Childe of Northland Bank, and the S-Class Adventurer from Snezhnaya. 

The three had left Liuli Pavillion, you and Childe were flanking Zhongli, attached on either side of him in a suggestive way. That you had left both Childe and him with a kiss on the cheek only served to fuel the confusion. No one knew what had occured over the private room of Liuli Pavillion but the barely noticeable mark on Zhongli’s neck and the slightly disheveled look of your clothes and Childe’s knowing grin left much to imagination.

Previous || Next

[unmaskedagain]

I’m Just your problem (But please tell me i’m a winner)

Okay so in my defense of this story, you didn’t actually say who you wanted to be the center of the story. And I kind of got inspired the second I heard the song and just ran with it. It’s a one shot about and staring Lila. So... yeah. Hope you enjoy it though. @abrx2002

I’m the winner!

Lila knew it didn’t have to be like this. It never had to be like this. She didn’t want to bury Marinette in the ground but little Miss Goodie Goodie just couldn’t leave well enough alone. So now Lila had to bury her with just a few words.

           She couldn’t been Marinette’s friend. She wanted to be Marinette’s friend. Before even meeting the girl, the entire class had spun a tale of just how fabulous Marinette was. Lila had looked forward to meeting her, becoming her friend, and using her power to rule the class and school together. They could’ve both won. It would’ve been easy.

           Too easy apparently.

Because never, not even, once did Marinette want to be her friend. She never even gave Lila a chance. Lila the villain in Marinette’s story as far as the other girl was concerned.

Nice guys finish last.

That’s why I win.

I’m the winner.

           The Little princess in pink swore she just didn’t like liars. But everyone told lies, even the perfect Marinette. (Especially Marinette) It was a fact. So why was Lila the one she called out? What was so wrong with Lila that Marinette couldn’t just leave well enough alone.

“Marinette didn’t like liars,” Lila scoffed. “Or maybe she just doesn’t like me!”

           Which was a blow to the Italian girl’s pride. Because Marinette liked everyone. She gave everyone chances. Even Chloe! The girl who bullied Marinette and everyone else in class far worse than Lila could’ve considering doing herself.  If a spoiled rotten girl like Chloe deserved another chance (and another and another and another) but Lila didn’t get one, how rotten did Marinette think Lila was?

           Maybe the lies weren’t the problem like Lila suspected. Maybe the issue was that she didn’t bow and cater to Marinette’s everywhere like the rest of the class seemed to do. They treated her like some goddess.

Is that what Marinette wanted? Did she wanted Lila to worship at her feet? Treat her like she’s perfect like her stupid little friends did? Loyal little lackeys that they are.

Were, Lila thought viciously. A few grand tales, some golden promises and they were at my beck and call. I won.

           How’s that for friendship, Maribrat? How does it feel to know the friends you cared so much about turned on you with just a few words. Does it hurt? Does it sting?

Will you finally admit I’m better?

I’m worthy?

That I won?

Am I worthy of your friendship now?

           Lila thought Marinette would stop then. After she turned everyone in class against her. Used the faculty’s foolishness to get the Marinette expelled. (Though it was reversed). The girl had lost everything. What was hers was Lila’s now. From bestie Alya, to meek pushover Adrien, to her place at center of class’s love and affection. It was Lila’s now. Because Lila won.

           And the Italian girl thought it was a matter of time before Marinette came crawling back. A bit of time before she stopped calling out Lila for lying and just went with it. If she did, then Lila would be benevolent enough to stop accusing her of being a bully, coach the class into re-friending the poor sorry Marinette.

           It never happened. Instead of begging and pleading to be Lila’s friend like Lila expected.

Wanted.

Needed.

Admit defeat.

Admit I beat you.

Admit that I won.

           Marinette stopped looking hurt at all the nasty words her friends (Ex-friends, Lila thought viciously) were spitting at her, the girl started smiling at her phone, texting, giggling. She hardly ever batted an eye anymore. The only times she called Lila out on her lies was when Lila said anything directly involving Marinette.

           She seemed to wash her hands of her classmates. Lila could only watch as she befriended other students from other classes.  Classes where Lila had no influence. Friends that didn’t fall easily to little small fibs.

Friends that were smarter that her last ones.

More loyal.

Better.

           While the class rightfully worshiped at Lila’s feet now, Marinette moved on to bigger and better things. She played a new game; one that Lila couldn’t win.

It wasn’t fair!

I already won!

Me! I did.

I won!

Student council. Fashion Club. Powered, a club for future female CEOs. She started her own design website. She went on amazing trips and met people Lila could only dreaming of meeting and constantly lied about. Marinette slowly but surely became one of the most popular girls in school.

While I dwindled in mediocrity.

Forced to deal with her stupid ex-friends.

Forced to only lie about things I’ve done.

Forced to watch you do them.

Forced to watch you rise like a star.

Forced to watch you WIN.

           Marinette would have rather befriend the entire school, everyone and their entire mother, than to debase herself by admitting defeat and bending to Lila’s whims, getting her friends back in the process. Nope. She rather waste her befriending insignificant morons than be Lila’s friend. It was proof alone how much she hated Lila.

           She just used the lies as excuse to cover up the thousands of reason she must’ve hated Lila. Marinette didn’t want Lila to apologize for lying.

She wants me to apologize for not being like her!

Sweet. Perfect. Angelic.

           Sorry, that Lila wasn’t made of sugar, spice, and everything. Sorry that’s the stupid reason for anyone to not like someone. To go out of their way to avoid them.

           Anyone else would crumble at what Lila threw at them.

They had.

Three. Four. Five. Girls

All were left nothing more than a puddle of tears after I was done with them.

I beat them all!

I won.

           But Marinette had gone from those, precious hurt and betrayed faces, to looking at everyone in class like they were just an inconvenience. Like Lila was a minor inconvenience to her day.

But I had won!

I know it!

She can’t just play a new game.

I won.

           Every day, she looked through Lila like people look at extra credit math problems in a class your already Acing. She could solve it, put in some minor effort, and fix it but what was the point?  Marinette clearly had better things to do than to worry about her ex-friends, her ex-crush, about Lila; minor little problems in her otherwise PERFECT little life.

           Lila was just a problem to Marinette. Not a friend, not an enemy anymore, just a stupid little problem. Not even a real person. Just a problem, she couldn’t even be bothered with anymore.

No! Marinette was too busy being elected Spring Queen at the Sweethearts dance.

Too busy on Claude, the star football play, the future Oscar-winning film maker, the most popular guy in school’s arm. The king to her Queen.

           And to think Lila had be waiting, patiently, so very patiently, to see the devastated look on Maribrat’s face when she got to the dance and saw…

           Adrien and Lila were at the dance, together, as dates; the perfect couple. Marinette was suipossed to be so, SO, heartbroken.

She never batted an eye.

She even told Lila how nice she looked.

           And then went on her way. Because Lila wasn’t worth anymore of her time or energy. Like Lila hadn’t taken everything from her.

Like I hadn’t won.

Like I hadn’t beat her.

I did. I know I did.

I beat everyone.

I win at everything.

Marinette just wasn’t playing right.

It was the last time Marinette looked her way the entire night. She was too busy with her perfect friend, her perfect boyfriend, living her stupid perfect life. Being crowned Queen. Lila had broken every mirror and reflect surface in her room. If Marinette didn’t want to look at her problem than neither did Lila.

This wasn’t how winners acted…

           After the dance, Lila had tried to get closer to the other kids in school, Marinette’s friends. But they didn’t bat at an eye at her. Had only given the barest looks of amusement, and pity, at her attempts.

           It got so bad that Lila almost believed the lie she told the class about Marinette turning the school against her.

           Truthfully she knew that Marinette couldn’t have been bothered to. She was too busy. Too busy to worry about the drama in their stupid little class.

Stupid busy for me!

           No, she went on her day like Lila didn’t exist.

I exist, damn you.

I’m here.

And I beat you.

I won!

           The more she ignored Lila the worst Lila got the class to treat her. Exile her. Got them to get Bustier to get kick Marinette off the school field trips.

           Not that it bother Marinette. She just stopped helping fund raise. Went on jaw-dropping trips with her new friends. Ignored the sneers and glares from her ex-friends. Like nothing bother her. None of them matter.

           None of them were important enough to matter to her! Lila wasn’t important enough to matter to the great Marinette.

Is this how you treat people who beat you, huh, Maribrat?

You ignore them?

Pretend they’re not there.

SO you can pretend I didn’t win!

           Lila wasn’t going to apologize for beating her fair and square.  She wasn’t going to stop lying, tell the truth, and beg for Marinette’s friendship. Because what would that really do?

It would be a forfeit.

It would mean I didn’t win.

           And really it wasn’t like she did anything wrong, right? If anything Marinette should be thanking Lila for revealing the true colors of her so-called friends, of her crush. Not that Lila was trying to justify anything. Because she didn’t have to.

I won, after all.

           Lila won so Marinette shouldn’t be ignoring her in class, right? She shouldn’t act like nothing Lila did phased her. Like Lila didn’t exist. Lila shouldn’t have to be the one to make amends, right?

History is written by the victors.

And I won!

           It wouldn’t matter even if she did. Marinette had always hated her, had always been out to get her, had disliked her the moment she laid eyes on Lila just like Ladybug.

           Lila had always been on Marinette’s blacklist. And she had done so many things, she couldn’t even remember what landed her there in the first place. It was something stupid, probably. Something so minor, some little lie that Marinette was to uppity to forgive, to let go of.

It was her problem, not mine.

           It was all Marinette’s fault, right? It was all her fault! So NO! Lila wouldn’t admit defeat. She wouldn’t stop lying. So why do I want to…

           Lila would rub everything she took from Marinette into the other girl’s face. Maribrat would break eventually. They always do. They have to, right? No one could deal with losing so much in such a short while. She’ll admit she was wrong, right? That She should’ve bowed down and accepted Lila as her friend, as the class’s new sweetheart. She’d admit Lila won then, right? Lila beat her. Lila was and is and always will be the winner.

I won!

I beat her.

           So there! Lila won, that was it. That was how the game ended and how the story would too. She’d marry Adrien, make Alya her maid of honor just to rub it in Marinette’s face that Lila had everything she ever dreamed of.

           Then she’d admit Lila’s won. Because Lila always wins! She already won, after all. Marinette just refused to be a good little loser and admit it…

           Lila won.

I’m the winner, right?

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi!! i recently got into johnlock and the universe has somehow directed me to your blog (which is an absolute godsend omfg). have you got any good possessive!john fics?

Hi Lovely!!!

AHHHH!! I’m so glad you enjoy my blog!!! <3 Thank you so much! <3

AHHH you know what??? I don’t get asked this all that much at all! I think mostly because it’s easier to find Possessive Sherlock fics and people then just... forget LOL

So guess what?? You’re the prompter for any fics I actually tagged or filed with Possessive John! <3 A pioneer you are! LOL I’m combining it with a few of the Obsessive fics as well, since I don’t have many new ones.

As usual, gang, feel free to add your own!! <3

POSSESSIVE / OBSESSIVE JOHN

See also: 

Specifically Jealous John b/c of Other People

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Display by 221b_hound (E, 2,377 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, Public Hand Jobs, Exhibitionism, Possessive Sex, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John) – A new client has been flirting with Sherlock and, finding no joy there, with John. John seems annoyed to be second-best, Sherlock thinks, so Sherlock decides to give the departing woman (and maybe also John) a demonstration of who, exactly, John belongs to. But there's more than one level of sexual jealousy and more than one display of possession going on here, outlined in the window of 221b Baker Street. Part 2 of Lock and Key

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w.,1 Ch. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarrassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Heavy Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.”

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres. The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

Of Course I Forgive You by allonsys_girl (E, 10,735 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Canon Divergence, First Time, Frottage, Wall Sex, Infidelity) – What if things had gone differently on that train car?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Obsessive John) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time, Obsessive John) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?