#and for the Master to be able to just rest

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 74: Fitz's Metronome

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, body control, emotional abuse, torture, captivity, hypnosis

September 1905

With a cold, stiff hand resting just on top of his head, Fitz was marched out of the dank basement like a marionette. He couldn't even find relief from being done with Lex's torture -- for now, at least -- because he was drowning in terror at his own fate, wondering if he'd ever control his own body again.

The Maestro had carried the weak lantern with him, so that Fitz could see a bit of the manor surrounding him. The oppressive patterns of the wallpaper, the dark wood door frames with their yawning openings, the intricately carved wooden furniture, all of it seemed to swallow what little light there was. The main floor of the manor was less obviously a prison than the basement where Lex had been chained, but it was a prison nonetheless.

Was this where he'd spend the rest of his days, in the dark, cold gloom? Would he die here?

His new master led Fitz into a room which seemed slightly more welcoming than the others. It was a music room, and what he could see was filled with antique instruments in perfect condition. Polished horns sat in neat brackets on the walls, violins and other stringed instruments rested in their stands, and an antique piano occupied the center of the room.

Fitz's body came to a stop in the middle of the room, standing as still as a statue, with Fitz hardly even able to blink. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Maestro pull a measuring tape from his pocket. He measured the circumference of Fitz's chest and stomach, the lengths of his legs and arms, the length and width of his feet, and more, while Fitz's automatically body shifted to accommodate the measurements.

It reminded Fitz of the last time he'd been measured so thoroughly, that night in the auction house where he'd first met Lex. He'd been scared out of hits wits then, too, but he'd also had hope, hope that his charm and charisma and ability to look great in a red velvet ballgown would earn him a permissive master. Fitz couldn't muster up any such hope now. There would be no softening of Lex's sire, no manipulation to earn privileges, not when he wasn't even allowed to speak.

The Maestro sat down at a nearby desk, leaving Fitz standing stiff as a board in the middle of the room. He dipped a pen in ink and wrote out a note, then rang a small brass bell. A moment later, a tired-looking older man in a modest black suit appeared at the door.

"Fetch clothes appropriate for these measurements. I have another new thrall this evening."

His eyes flicked over to Fitz very, very briefly. "Yes, sir," he said, exiting the room as swiftly as he appeared.

Another new thrall? Fitz wondered how many he had. But he didn't have much time to wonder, because the Maestro stood before Fitz again, running an icy hand below his chin and tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

His eyes were as deep as the ocean and as dark as a moonless night, and Fitz couldn't look away from them, even as he felt their pull. He was being enthralled. His new master wasn't simply content with controlling every movement of Fitz's body. He was trying to control Fitz's mind too. Fitz could feel himself scrabbling for purchase, trying to keep his grip on his thoughts even as they began to slip from his grasp.

"That's it, child," he said in that dreadfully melodic voice. "You will look deeply into my eyes, and you will lose yourself. Your mind, your body, and your will are all mine, to do with as I must."

He slipped. He was falling, falling, falling down a pitch-black well that seemed to go on for miles and miles. His thoughts began to empty as he sank further into a daze, unable to resist the thick blanket of control that was smothering him.

"Fitzwilliam de Hastings. Third son of the de Hastings family and an abject disappointment in every conceivable way. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Despite that unfortunate history, you may be excellent raw material." A porcelain thumb stroked Fitz's cheek just below his eye. "Your parents didn't have the strength, the knowledge, or the time to mold you into anything better than this pathetic creature, did they? Despite having little understanding of humans, I can be certain that they did not love nor care for you. If they had cared for you, they wouldn't have left your talents and better qualities to rot and spoil."

Fitz was sinking so deeply under his spell that he couldn't muster even an internal denial to any of this. No, his parents most certainly didn't care for him. They probably thought it was just as well that Fitz was gone, if they even gave it any thought.. His heart ached with the jealousy he'd felt each time his father praised his golden older brother, praise that Fitz would never hear himself.

"If someone had cared about you, they would have corrected your personality."

No, that wasn't right, couldn't have been right. Correcting Fitz was all his father ever did, and he knew that his father hadn't cared about him, would've just as soon not had a useless third son.

"Make no mistake, child, I certainly don't care for you either. I would be incapable of such a thing, even if you did deserve such tender treatment," said the Maestro, pulling Fitz in slightly closer. "I don't care for you, but I have time. All the time in the world, and some dim flicker of curiosity. Curiosity to see if I can mold something like you into something perfect. That is why I am prepared to do you a great mercy."

"Mercy…" Fitz's voice came out as a pleading whine.

"Yes, a mercy. I will be the one to correct your vile personality. Despite your deficiencies, I think you understand that it has brought you nothing but suffering. A lifetime of poor choices and waste."

Fitz wanted to deny it, but it was his choices that brought him here, wasn't it? If he hadn't pursued the stage, if he hadn't taken Miss Lily's bet, if he hadn't charmed Lex…

His master suddenly broke his gaze and released Fitz, who was still falling, lost in his spell. The servant from earlier had arrived silently, and handed the Maestro a set of neatly folded clothes with a deep bow. The Maestro looked over the clothes and nodded at the servant, who exited the room with an unnaturally rhythmic gait.

Fitz knew that would be him, a puppet on strings, fit only to serve, and the cruel voice in his head whispered that maybe it was all he was good for.

The Maestro turned back to Fitz and began unbuttoning his shirt, one button after the next. His chest was exposed to the cold, damp air of the manor, but under his master's power, he could hardly even shiver. There was nothing he could do to resist as one leg lifted, and then the other, allowing the Maestro to remove his shoes and socks, followed by his pants.

As his clothing was removed and set aside, Fitz was reminded that he was wearing his stage magician's costume. He'd had a performance just earlier tonight, his last. It already seemed like ages had passed since them.

And then he was standing utterly nude before his new master, body fully controlled and mind ensorcelled, with no protection and nowhere to hide.

Fortunately, the Maestro didn't seem to care for Fitz's nude body. He wasted no time dressing Fitz in the clothing the servant had brought. The drab suit was scratchy and uncomfortable, and it was such a small thing, but Fitz couldn't help but despair at it. A lifetime in uncomfortable, stuffy clothes.

Once Fitz was dressed, the Maestro examined him this way and that, pinching at the cloth here and drawing it upwards there. "This will require some tailoring, but that can be handled later. It's an improvement for now." He tossed Fitz's old clothes to the side like rags and rang the bell once more. The servant arrived to collect them, and then the only possessions Fitz had left were gone.

The Maestro gestured to the piano, and Fitz's body moved to sit on the bench. He was going to have to play, and Fitz already knew his meager skills and repertoire of popular ragtime tunes wouldn't satisfy his master. There was a metronome with a shining brass arm sitting on the top of the piano, a surprisingly modern touch.

His master reached past Fitz's shoulder and started the metronome in a slow rhythm, and Fitz couldn't help but watch it and listen to its tock-tock-tock. His fogged mind wondered when the Maestro would make him start playing, but as the minutes dragged on, he realized that he wasn't going to play. No, all he could do was sit there and watch the metronome.

Almost experimentally, he tried to turn his eyes away, and found that he could not. His master had taken hold of his very eyes, keeping them glued tightly to the metronome's arm. Now he was aware of the way his eyes were being forced to follow, and he couldn't help but try to resist it, with a spike of panic. Resisting it was like walking through a wall, or struggling against thick chains, and it only made his pupils jitter strangely, the metronome's arm going briefly out of focus.

"You will allow the rhythm to enter your head," said the melodic voice near his ear. "You will allow it to govern your thoughts, your movements. You will allow your own thoughts to fade."

Fitz could feel it, the way his thoughts were slowing and swirling in time with the metronome, the way his emotions were growing dim. He dug in, determined to stubbornly fight it as long as possible. Even if it was futile, he didn't want to go out easily.

"Everything you are, everything that is not me will fade away. You cannot fight this. You will not fight this. You are weak and you know that you will slip."

He tried to pull whatever happy memories he had from the recesses of his mind, one last moment of fun before the doom. Taking his bows to raucous applause. Laughing and drinking with fellow actors after a show. Bluffing his way to a poker jackpot.

"The only sound in your head is the rhythm. The only thoughts in your mind are mine."

tock - tock - tock

Dancing in the music room with Lex. Lex holding him while he fell asleep. The night he'd finally got up the courage to kiss him.

"The only desire left to you is servitude. You will submit."

No --

"You will submit. Blank. Empty. A doll on which to impose my will."

Lex wouldn't want him this way. Lex wanted him just the way he was.

But…

As Fitz was kissing Lex in his mind's eye, he saw that handsome face with a silver knife jammed into the eye, dark blood dripping from the wound in a rhythm like

tock - tock - tock

Fitz knew he wasn't worth it. Fitz could never have been worth all of that.

tock - tock - tock

"You will feel relief as you are washed clean. It is the only relief you will have for some time, so I suggest you savor it."

His mind swirled with the images of Lex's tormented body lying motionless on the basement floor.

tock - tock - tock

Relief. Yes, he wanted relief. He didn't want to see that any more.

"No more thoughts. No more wants. No more needs. No more distractions or decisions. You are my doll to pose, to mold, to break. My empty vessel. You are better this way. Far, far better."

One more memory flashed into Fitz's rapidly fading mind. His father looming over him, so tall and so stern, and all Fitz wanted was to please him, but he never did. He grabbed Fitz's arm too tight. It hurt, and Fitz bit back tears. "Why can't you just do as you're told?"

He wanted to. He wanted to just do what he was told so badly, but he couldn't.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam," said his master. "You will never again have to despair at not doing what you're told. I will make you do what you are told, always. I will make you perfect."

Tears were dripping down his chin in the same rhythm as the metronome. "Thank you, sir."

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Next week, Vivian is on Alexander's trail.

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[professorsnape394]

Day 9: Morning Sex

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating: 🥵

Prompt: Morning

Summary: Y/N wakes up Severus in the best way possible.

A/N: I'll get these out as quick as I can, life's just been crazy atm. Hope you're all enjoying them so far.

Warnings: Sex. Unprotected Sex. Male oral (receiving).

Word Count: 1442

Credits to Gif Creator

“Morning, Sunshine.”

Severus eyes fluttered open to the sight of his beautiful wife smiling lazily at him.

“Good morning.” Severus grumbled in response, barely awake.

The tired wizard, sleepily pulled his wife to his chest, closing his eyes once more.

“Don’t even think about going back to sleep, you.”

“I’m tired.” He whined, holding her tighter.  

Of course, Y/N knew the reason he was so exhausted this morning, the two of them had been up to all hours of the night pleasing one another relentlessly. Unfortunately for Severus his wife was not yet satiated. Now fully awake, Y/N was ready for another round with her husband; morning sex had always been a favourite of hers. Her silky bare legs brushed against Severus’ tangling themselves together with his. Despite refusing to reopen his eyes, other parts of Severus’ body were beginning to awaken.

“What are you up you.” He questioned; his words muffled by his pillow.

“Nothing.” Y/N feigned innocence.

The woman continued to tease the Potions Master, her naked form curling around his hard body, her hands roaming curiously.

No longer interested in fighting off his wife’s advances, Severus lay flat on his back and allowed her to entertain herself while he savoured a few more seconds of shut-eye.

Y/N felt her way down her husband’s chest, fingers rubbing circles over the surface of his skin. She kissed his cheek hoping to elicit some kind of response. Nothing. She nipped her way down the length of his neck. Nothing. She bit his earlobe, a little harder than usual. Nothing. She let her hands travel to the waistband of Snape’s boxers…

Severus opened one eye.

“Are you going to tease me all day, or are you actually going to do something about it.” The wizard gestured to the tent he had created in his underwear.

Y/N smirked widely.

“Whatever you want, my love.”

Her slim hand dipped beneath his waistband. His cock was already rock solid when she wrapped her fingers around him.

A satisfied hiss escaped Severus at the feel of her cold hands around him.

The pair made eye contact before the witch disappeared beneath the blanket, positioning herself between her partner’s legs.

A few pumps of his cock had Severus’s head flopping back against his pillow, relaxing into her touch. He was satisfied to lie there and appreciate the woman’s generosity, until he felt the softness of her tongue flatten against his head. Taking her sweet time, Y/N swirled her tongue sensually around the tip of his penis, lighting up every last nerve.

A guttural groan rumbled from Severus’ throat and without warning the thick feather-down duvet was thrown off of her, leaving her bare body exposed to the chilliness of the bedroom. A layer of goosebumps formed over her skin, heightening her already reactive senses.

“I want to see your face when you take me down your throat.” He stated firmly.

On cue Y/N locked eyes with her husband, taking the rest of him into her mouth. It was always a challenge at first. The utter size of him was intimidating to say the least, but with enough lubrication and sheer willpower Y/N was eventually able to take all of him, even if it meant a few gags along the way. She was sure Severus secretly got off on making her gag, and she knew for certain he loved it when she was sloppy with him.

Keeping her eyes fixed to Snape’s, Y/N allowed a drop of saliva to fall from her mouth, using it to assist her in swallowing the rest of his shaft. Feeling the tip hit the back of her throat, Severus let out a strangled moan.

“Fuckkk.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile around him, she loved getting verbal reactions from him like this. A man usually so stoic, reduced to a primal state from nothing but her touch. It made her feel so powerful.

“Shhh.” She soothed him, sliding him out of her mouth with a pop. “Just relax.”

Severus was now practically sitting up right, the muscles in his stomach tightening from the sensation of her mouth. Y/N pushed gently on his chest, forcing him back into a lying position.

Done with easing him into it, Y/N began bobbing her head, taking every inch of Severus in and out with each movement. Picking up the pace, Y/N hollowed out her cheeks and relaxed her throat completely. Severus’ hands flew into her mass of hair, gradually putting a slight amount of pressure onto the back of her head, until he was practically fucking her face.

“You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in my mouth.” He panted breathlessly, thrusting up into her throat.

Having no other ability to respond, Y/N hummed appreciatively around his dick, sending a series of vibrations up his shaft. Severus shivered and moaned again in response. The feeling of his wife’s tongue running along the singular vein on his dick was Snape’s breaking point.

“Stop.” He panted, tugging on the roots of her hair. “Unless you want me finish down your throat, you need to stop right now.”

Y/N pulled herself off of him, letting tendrils of saliva string between her lips and the head of his cock.

“That was kind of the idea.”

“And leave you unsatisfied? I don’t think so.” Now more awake than ever, Severus sat up against the headboard of the bed. “Get up here.”

Not one to disobey, Y/N left her crouching position between his legs, and moved to straddle her husband’s hips, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance.

Severus fisted his dick in a tight grip, lining himself up perfectly with her entrance. Despite not being touched by either herself of Snape, Y/N was now dripping wet; the slickness of her cunt already leaking onto her thighs.

Severus ran the tip of his cock through her folds, focusing on rubbing tiny circles around her clit, teasing them both endlessly.

“Please.” Y/N breathed. “Please Severus, I need you.”

Unlike her husband it didn’t take long to become a quivering mess. Already she was begging for more before they even had a chance to really begin. 

Never wanting to disappoint his wife, Severus eased himself into her, allowing her time to adjust to his size and girth.

“God, you feel amazing.” He gasped, welcoming the warmth of her tight pussy around him.

Y/N was unable to speak, focusing solely on lowering herself down his entire length.

Usually keen to dominate in the bedroom, Y/N expected Severus to take charge as soon as she was seated comfortably. Snape, however, had other ideas.

“Go ahead, Darling. Show me what you can do.” The wizard smirked, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red under the intensity of his gaze. It was easy to feel intimidated by her husband, it was something she never quite managed to overcome. Only now, she revelled at the chance put on a show for him.

Still using his shoulders as leverage, Y/N fell into a steady pace, pumping herself up and down his cock over and over until the two of them were left gasping for breath on the brink of climax.

Knowing she was seconds away from cumming, with Severus undoubtably following shortly behind, Y/N leaned into her husband’s grasp, capturing his mouth with her own.

Waiting for no permission, Severus instantly stuck his tongue into his wife’s mouth, moaning contentedly as their tongues inter-twined.

“I can’t hold off anymore.” She huffed against his mouth, gasping for breath.

“Go on, Darling. Cum for me.”

On Severus command, the sound of his velvet-like voice send Y/N over the edge. Her pussy pulsated, clenching Severus over and over again until he too could not longer fight his orgasm off.

“Oh Fuck.” His words were shaky, as was his body. His muscles tensed, and his fingertips dug deep into the flesh of her hips, forcing her body to still while he emptied himself inside her. With a few last pumps Severus settled inside of her, his seed now spilling out of her hole, coating the two of them in the sticky substance.

The pair collapsed into each other; Y/N onto Snape’s chest, and Severus onto the bed beneath him. They lay as still as they could for as long as they could, before Severus found the energy to run his fingers through Y/N’s dark locks, planting a series of small kisses along her forehead.

“So… breakfast?” He offered.

“Only if you’re cooking.” She grumbled into his chest, the thought of getting out of bed so much less appealing than before.

“Anything for you, my darling.” Severus smiled contentedly.

[astheforcewillsit]

Title: Rest Stop (ao3 link)

Summary:

Five years after the Clone Wars, the Jedi are being hunted. Obi-Wan and Cody try to navigate what that means for them. or Quinlan Vos goes missing, and Obi-Wan rescues him with some difficulty. They recover in a clone colony, and uncomfortable conversations are had.

"What do you mean there are people after you. Who is after you? Who did this to you."

Cody interrogates him in rapid succession. Without pause, words flow freely from his mouth as if he is commanding a platoon on the battlefield.

His voice rising at every syllable as anxiety seizes him.

It is uncharacteristic of the former commander's usual collected approach to disaster. Especially when that disaster is Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Though Obi-Wan cannot blame him. It has been two months since he last made contact with Cody, and even longer since he visited the clone colony.

Now he's returned looking worse than a walking bruise.

And in that time he had missed much.

New buildings have been added to this particular colony. Spring has settled upon it, and new life sings in the Force. The tension that engulfed the clones during the war has all but dissipated.

Cody's home has grown too. Both physically and in the Force.

The kitchen--now a temporary medbay-colorful and large. There are more dishes than there were last time. Baking trays, cookie sheets. Colorful utensils. The cabinets are the burnt yellow of the 212th, and there is an apron hanging on a door hook. The faint smell of spice hangs in the air. And the Force shows him a memory of laughing children, eagerly eating away at sweets that must have been put out on this very table hours ago. A table that Obi-Wan now sits at. A table his blood has stained.

He tries not to think about what the Republic says about the Jedi, now. How they ruin everything they touch.

He's brought back to present as a bacta patch is applied to his arms. His sleeves have been sliced off (he'll have to make a new tunic when he's able to), and the cool air burns at his open wounds.

The young medic--a kid really, Threads, curses loudly. He's doing what he can, but he never served under a general or in the war. He hangs around Cody because he looks up to him, but stopped his training when the clones got their rights.

He just happened to be the closest Cody could grab while the other went to flag down an actual doctor.

"I apologize, Threads. I'm sure you believed you escaped the horrors of war." "How on Earth did you get metal shards in your arm, Master?" He mutters, gaze focused in morbid curiosity. He pulls out sharp pieces of metal, and lets them clatter on the ground beside him, "And no worries. This kinda makes me want to actually go back to my studies as a doctor. But it would help to know what happened."

The past few days have absolutely horrendous, that's what.

Though now beside Cody, the adrenaline begins it's exit from Obi-Wan's system as it registers he is safe. Finally safe.

And with the adrenaline gone, the pain begins to collect its toll. He aches. Badly. Though for now he can use the Force to will the pain to numbness. His head is full of lead, his eyes carrying the weight of the world. He just wants to sleep. And strangely, Cody is the perfect pillow. He leans forward in his chair, and let's his head fall onto clone's stomach. Force, he could stay here in this chair for ever, face buried in the soft fabric of Cody's clothing.

"Obi-Wan, what the kriff happened?" It's more of an exasperated sigh, a breathless question as Cody runs his finger's through the Jedi's hair.

With great effort, Obi-Wan turns his head to the side, gaze landing on the cause of his current predicament.

Quinlan Vos has managed to push himself into a corner, avoiding Fox's touch like it's Force Lightening.

Quinlan, who is his own trembling mess of bloodied robes. Kiffar blood is so bright, disturbingly bright.

Sometimes Obi-Wan forgets Quinlan isn't human.

They'll need to clean the kitchen floor after this. Fox hovers over him, hands hesitantly raised above his Jedi, as if touching him will do more damage than has already been done to him. Contrary to his brother though, Fox has managed to keep himself relatively collected.

He only jumped when Quinlan used to Force to push himself into the corner.

It scared all of them, even Obi-Wan.

The adrenaline has finally run it's course. His body reminds him of the full extent of his injuries, relays the injuries to him as the medic continues to tend to him.

Obi-Wan's head throbs. Ribs ache. His arms burn from where molten metal painted his skin as he tried to deflect solid shrapnel.

And now, recognizing it's own bloodless state, his body begins to shake.

He needs to tell them what happened, at least as much as he's allowed. They've let him bleed all over their pretty floor. They've dealt with Quinlan who's fallen--again.

He closes he's eyes and speaks.

"There are people after the entire Order, Cody. Jedi...they've--we've been disappearing since the war ended. We thought it was the normal disappearance--" Waxer snorts. Clearly, he's frustrated. Obi-Wan didn't even know he was there. His control of the Force is wanning.

"What are normal disappearances? When is that a normal thing?" Cody articulates what Waxer couldn't. Because what the kriff? Normal disappearances?

"We thought they may have been bounty hunters. It wasn't uncommon for us to be targeted before the Clone Wars. " He grimaces in pain, turning his head back into Cody's stomach.

He stays there for a moment, and breathes in all that Cody is. Feels his solid muscles past his shirt, feels the warmth radiating off of his body.

It's grounding.

"But when Jedi Master's started disappearing," he continues, muffled, "powerful ones, we started taking notice. We started realizing we were being picked off. One by one. And with each one of them gone, there'd be a Dark Side user--who used their same skills, same fighting style. It didn't take us long to put together what was happening." Unease reverberates throughout the small kitchen. The light shines above them, dim as it buzzes. It doesn't reach Vos, who is shrouded in darkness that was not there before.

Those who know Jedi personally no doubt recount the last line of communication had with them. Wolffe leans against the wall, index finger nervously tapping his inner arm.

Threads lifts his head from where he kneels beside Obi-Wan, fingers red with blood.

It doesn't take a lot of brain power to guess who the strongest amongst the Jedi are. And what the implications of this means.

"Quinlan went missing a month ago, I volunteered myself to go after him. And when I found him--he attacked me, not of his own doing." Obi-Wan assures, "And whoever did this to him attacked me as well. But not with blasters, with bullets. They knew how to kill us."

That tastes like bile on his mouth.

Confirming it amongst the Jedi had been one thing, but admitting it to the clones? That they were being kidnapped and turned against one another? That is another thing. That makes it real.

Fox has managed to close the space between he and Quinlan, who looks worse off than they've ever seen. In the small moment that he and Obi-Wan looked at each other, he could have sworn Quin's eyes were gold. What corner was he pushed against to lean into the Dark Side? What agony did these monsters put him through for him to fall and attack Obi-Wan.

Not that it matters now. His face is mostly obscured from view by the tangle of his locs, eyes screwed shut as his fingers twist into his roots. They all watch watch as Fox's fingers unweave Quinlan's own from his hair, cooing him gently.

"Quinlan, you're going to hurt yourself." He seems to calm when his finger's find Fox's. Cody knows a bit about what Quinlan can do. And well, Fox has spent the past three hours baking cakes for the little ones--clones and natborns alike--singing with them in ways that Palpatine's toy solider never would have five years ago.

Cody hopes those hands give Quinlan some peace. And with the way Fox hauls him to his feet, he thinks that maybe they have. The shaking stops, at least. Though he's hunched over like he's in pain.

His hair still obscures most of his body.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Obi-Wan hisses as Threads resumes his treatment.

It's a question that the Order grappled with.

"Because we are not your responsibility. Because we will not drag you all into another fight." The conviction is not as strong as Obi-Wan would have liked it to be, but he means it.

The decision was unanimous. They would not involve the clones.

"Obi-Wan, where is Master Plo?" Wolffe cuts through the bullshit, his voice is on edge in a way that means he's concerned. Very concerned. Obi-wan hadn't noticed him either. He wonders how many clones are filtering into this small rest stop.

"I--Commander Wolffe, it has been some time since I have--"

He doesn't get to finish explaining to him what has transpired. Wolffe peels himself off of the wall, and walks out of the kitchen.

"Cody, I'm taking Quinlan with me upstairs." Cody's eyes follow the retreating form of his brother, and with effort he pulls Quinlan close to him. Quinlan trips over his feet, making a considerable effort to keep up with Fox, " Somethings...not right. I've commed our medic. Sorry Threads, but I need an expert."

Cody nods curtly, turning his attention back to Obi-Wan. "Fox," Obi-wan calls out, weakly as the commander hauls Quinlan away, "he fought so very hard." "I know," now Fox's voice breaks. He sounds small, like he's struggling to hold himself together, "I know he did."

Still, Obi-Wan paints a clear picture, "It was not like last time, he did not want to hurt me. It was like--" "Like the inhibitor chips?" Rex has made his way into the kitchen, Obi-Wan's arrival gaining more attention. He moves to let Fox and Quinlan leave, placing a comforting hand on Fox as he does so.

"Yes, but when I managed to draw him away from the place he was at, whatever influence was on him released him. But clearly, it is still tormenting his mind. It was unfortunately almost impossible to reason with him when he was in that place."

The Jedi are being hunted. And they were are being turned against each other.

Part of Cody's world ripples at that realization. Happiness seems to be eternally just out of reach, it's sweet embracing kissing the tips of his fingers.

Teasing him. Weren't they supposed to live together? Didn't Obi-Wan talk about taking on a clone padawan? If Obi-Wan, who Cody surmises is concussed, wasn't burrowing his head into the clone's stomach, Cody would be sitting right beside him.

But somehow he always ends up holding Obi-Wan up. Today, he wishes he didn't have to. He hardly has the strength.

"You know, we get to chose when to fight too, Obi-Wan. If you're all being killed, we deserve to know. Our brothers didn't die so you could all die five years later." He manages, "Believe it or not, some of us will choose to stand with you."

For Obi-Wan's part, he's unsure of how to take the statement.

He's not sure how much of Cody wants to fight for him, or how much a decade of conditioning by the Kaminoans has told him--all of them that they have to.

"The Republic has people that will protect us--" Cody's temper flairs in the Force. Obi-Wan groans.

"You think natborns give a kriff about the Jedi? The Republic still doesn't trust you after the disaster of the Clone Wars. We're the only ones who can keep you all safe. We were made for you."

Cody catches himself too late. And collective, the clones hold their breaths. The silence is louder than it should be. Cody finger's still in Obi-Wan's hair.

When Obi-Wan was a young Jedi, newly made master to an even younger Anakin Skywalker, he enjoyed watching as his way with words often tripped Anakin up.

How the boy's head first personality would almost always end up a lesson of how not to approach the Jedi Way.

It was as if their entire apprenticeship consisted of Anakin proving Obi-Wan right, walking into a trap--be it physical or verbal.

I told you this would happen, Anakin.

If only you'd listen to me.

And now, Anakin, you have proven my point. Again.

He remembered the satisfaction that would fill him as he watched Anakin fulfill his own prophecy. Watch him enact the irony that Obi-Wan had warned him of.

Yet, He feels numbness as Cody does the same.

"And that is the problem, Cody." Obi-Wan smiles sadly through the fabric, slowly lifting his head to captures the clone's eyes, "you never should have been.

And yet, like Anakin, Cody continues to talk--argue. To reason.

Let us help you, it won't be like last time. Please.

Though at a point Obi-Wan stops listening, and simply feels Cody's presence.

Threads says something about a concussion, and suddenly, Obi-Wan's world gets a bit darker. Still, he loses himself in Cody's presence.

It's enough to eventually put him to sleep. He will worry about the world attacking his Order--his family--later. For now, he allows himself to succumb to the rest that Cody's very being has provided.

[radio-ghost-cooks]

look ik this (tensimm) is the tragic/toxic yaoi ship but consider: they both look very soft and cuddly and I want my blorbos to be happy

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

couple of mello + near doodles

[the-deadlock-south]

we lost the game but i won in looking cracked in front of strangers so did we (i) really lose (yes)

[handfulofmuses]

The one eyed evil lives again. A wandering darkness, his mind insane. He gathers an army beginning with one The battle for peace is not yet done.

"...Master. I live to serve you."

[mars-ipan]

genuinely the smartest (and funniest) choice i ever made in junior high was completely ignoring people who tried to bully and/or annoy me

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

thoschei early days

[fingertipsmp3]

I don't think job recruiters even hear or understand themselves sometimes. This man really just rejected me outright because I don't have a car and I'm like.. you realise this is exactly why I work from home right now right? (something he was also skeptical about) Like how the fuck am I supposed to be able to afford a car if no one will give me a chance and try employing me? Of course I'm working from home! At least they're fucking giving me money

[crushmeeren]

Sex chocolate with Hawks, Dabi, Aizawa and maybe Toshinori???

⋆ ft. izuku ⋆

⋆ this is written as if the guys didn’t know they’d eaten the chocolate and how they’d react to the treat. sorry I didn’t put Toshinori in this, I’m not quite sure how to write his personality yet. (ó﹏ò｡)

𝛏 master list link 𝛏

// @emmab3mma hope you enjoy! ₊˚ʚ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Izuku’s lips would tug into a sheepish smile, no doubt thankful for the sweet treat pick me up. His eyes would brighten, a satisfied hum dancing in the air.

Izuku would be unbearably jittery out on patrol that evening, hopping from the sidewalk on one side the street to the other, green light crackling in his wake. He’d do it mindlessly, thoughts wandering to you and what you currently could be doing.

Suddenly, he’d be flailing mid air when he vividly imagines you on your knees, plush lips stretched so wide on his cock he knows it must hurt your mouth. Izuku would stumble when he hit the concrete, catching himself on the bench nearby.

Izuku’s expression would twist from calm to horrified, thoughts running a mile a minute when he steadies himself and realizes his cock is…hard. Throbbing. Straining against his hero suit. He’d make haste running to the nearest building with a public restroom.

Izuku would shut the door to the restroom and lock it before anyone could even notice he entered. He’d be frantic, shoving his pants down mid thigh as he leaned against the wall and hissed through his teeth when the cool air hit his freely bobbing cock.

He’d have a million concerns in the back of his head but not be able to focus on a single one. Izuku would have a one track mind, wrapping a hand around himself and jerking until he came in less than 20 seconds to the image of you on your knees.

Izuku would be so embarrassed afterwards, cheeks bright pink as he adjusts his clothes and washes his hands.

Being as smart as he is, he’d have a suspicion this is related to the chocolate you gave him and he intends to find out once he’s home. Once he returned, he’d tease you until you’re on the edge of tears and blurting out the truth, fucking you until your mind whites out and you scream his name.

Lucky you.

Keigo would give you a flirty grin, winking playfully as he snatched the chocolate from you and swallowed it within two bites. You’d give him an unimpressed look but he’d just laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Keigo isn’t surprised when he got a boner while soaring through the skies on the way to his agency. He’d been thinking about you anyways and his dick getting hard wasn’t uncommon when he thought of you. It’d be fair to say that happened often, if he’s honest.

Keigo would take note of the violent flush crawling down his neck and snaking under the fuzzy collar of his flight jacket. He’d suck his bottom lip in between his teeth and adjust his cock in his pants so it’s sticking straight up instead of outward.

He’d be able to somewhat focus on the business meeting he didn’t want to attend in the first place, only being reprimanded a few times more than normal for zoning out.

Keigo’s pulse would thunder. He’d wear a neutral expression, letting his chin rest in his propped up hand as he sent a feather to find and turn on the air because why the fuck is it so hot in here?

He’d text you something filthy as discreetly as he could under the table, biting his knuckles when you sent back a picture of yourself with your tits on display. Keigo would come to the conclusion that maybe he was a bit more pathetically horny than normal and he needed to ditch this meeting yesterday.

Keigo would go straight home, ignoring anyone who had tried to speak with him on his way out. He’d find you on the couch with nothing on but an oversized shirt and waving what’s left of the chocolate bar at him with a smirk when he entered through the balcony.

He wouldn’t even be upset when you told him what you’d done. He’d just crowd close, looming over you with a wolfish grin that shot a thrill down your spine.

Keigo would succumb to the aphrodisiac completely. He’d bend you over the backrest of the couch at hip level and wrench your arms taut behind you, fingers circling your wrists to secure you in place.

Keigo would have no mercy, sliding his cock in your tight pussy before you’re turned on enough to take him smoothly. He’d send a feather down to play with your clit until you strain to escape, not stopping despite your pleas because “this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby? yeah, so stop yapping and take it.”

In the end all you can do is nod, because if you truly wanted him to stop you’d only have to say the safe word.

Shouta would raise an eyebrow with a bored expression on his features. He’d roll his eyes and eat the chocolate after you pushed your lower lip out and fluttered your lashes at him.

Shouta’s a sucker for you.

He’d be grading papers that afternoon, knuckles rubbing at his sleepy eyes in the office of your shared home. He’d take a break, pressing his palms to his eyes and resting his elbows on the desk.

A scenario would pop into his head, one where you sat on the edge of the desk while he’d relax in his chair and lazily eat you out. He can imagine the way your clit would feel against his tongue, how warm and soft your pussy would be on his lips.

Shouta would lean back in the chair, a hand absently dropping to his lap to palm his cock and he’d be startled at just how much he’d filled out already. His dick hot and sticking to his inner thigh. Shocked at the unavoidable thick warmth swirling in his belly when it’d usually take a bit more than a brief daydream to get this worked up.

He’d be certain that you had something to do with this and irritation would lance through him. He’d sit in the kitchen once he’s finished, arms crossed and cock stubbornly refusing to flag until you returned home.

Shouta would ask you about it as if he were asking a child if they had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. Easily, you admit to it. No hesitation, no shame, just a smug air about you.

Then, Shouta would make his fantasy a reality. He’d eat your pussy until you were right on the edge of cumming and then he’d stop. He’d speak condescendingly, saying “poor baby, your pussy just wants to cum doesn’t she?” as he sits you roughly down on his cock.

He’d spank you a few times, teasing you a bit more but he’d make you cum so intensely your toes would cramp ��� and then he’d keep going until his own brain got fuzzy.

Touya would say fuck no at first. He doesn’t like chocolate. Until you mention there’s something special about the sweet and he assumes it’s an edible. You don’t bother to correct him because, technically, it is an edible, just not the kind filled with weed.

Touya would be leaning his back against the railing on your balcony, angled so he can peer into the open doors of your living room. He’d have a cigarette dangling from his lips, scrubbing at his cheek with one hand because yeah, his cheeks are typically roasting but they’re never this hot.

He’d shrug it off and nonchalantly light up the cigarette with his pointer finger. He’d startle as the tiny flame bursts into a fireball that he really didn’t mean to create when you stride past the doorway in soft shorts that show the crease of where your thigh joins your ass.

You’d freeze mid step and turn to stare at him incredulously, lips parted slightly when the aftershock of heated air damn near singes your skin.

Touya would be flustered. Cheeks painted rosy pink with embarrassment at the lack of control over his quirk. He’d scowl harshly, pinching his brows together as he dropped and stomped on his cigarette to put it out. He’d stalk towards you and snarl “why the hell are you wearing those fucking shorts?” as if his sudden overbearing lust is your fault specifically.

You’d roll your eyes and begin walking in the direction you’d intended in the first place but Touya would snatch your wrist tight enough the bones grind together and drag you to your bedroom. He’d ignore your obviously fake bewildered expression and shove you onto the mattress. He can’t focus on the fact that you seem to be going along with this a bit too easily.

His cock would be jumping and pushing painfully against the zipper of his jeans before he so much as kissed you. He wouldn’t get either of you truly naked, he’d just slide your soft shorts to the side and unzip his jeans. He’d shove your shirt to your collarbone so he could watch the way your tits are about to bounce.

Touya would yank your ankles up and over his shoulders until the backs of your thighs press into his chest and then fold you in half like you’re a fucking blanket. He’d tilt his hips until his tip catches on your pussy and then he’s shoving his cock all the way inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

Touya wouldn’t have the self control to stop for a long time that evening and you’d almost regret giving him the chocolate. Almost.

[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

[athena14044]

Here’s my Mummy movie ranking bc I didn’t watch 6 movies in a painkiller induced haze for no reason:

1. The Mummy (1932) - a little slow and I had a hard time focusing due to aforementioned pain killer induced haze but Boris Karloff slayed and it’s the only one with a unique concept which ig I can’t really complain about in a franchise like this but omg all the others feel like a worse rehash of something else not even necessarily of the original mummy

2. The Mummy’s Tomb - something about changing the setting to rural Massachusetts worked for me? It’s set in 1970 but makes no attempt to look like anything other than the 40s. If I had to choose one to remake it would be this one which probably isn’t good bc the revenge plot only works as a sequel but it literally just spent the first 10 minutes recapping Hand anyway so.

3. The Mummy’s Ghost - little dog named Peanuts <3 also kind of a bizarre iconic ending

4. The Mummy’s Hand - discount Abbott and Costello but also somehow funnier than the actual Abbott and Costello Mummy movie

5. The Mummy’s Curse - my only guess is that the only information given to the screenwriter was that the last movie ended with the Mummy walking into a swamp and bestie assumed all swamps are in Louisiana. Why is this set in a swamp in Louisiana.

6. Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy - I really believed in this but too many bad musical sequences not enough mummy :( the only genuine laugh it got from me was bc of the giant iguana

[windser]

the first time sylus gave you access to his home at your leisure, his finger had curled under your chin to prompt it to raise until your gazes met. he'd told you to use it whenever you felt like it— to use it when he was gone, if you were feeling lonely or just wanted to curl up into the plush lining of his mattress and the high thread count of his sheets. but his eyes wanted most for you to stay and never leave.

you found it easier than expected to find yourself wandering back to his home. which frankly was no easy feat given that it was housed in the n109 zone. yet, more frequently sylus began receiving pictures of his refrigerator fully stocked with your favorite snacks. other times, he would receive text messages and phone calls while you were buried underneath the comforter of his bed. it was simultaneously the best and worst thing, for he knew you were okay in the boundaries of his home, but he hadn’t properly asked you to make it your home yet.

when he returned home to the secluded location, there a slow gait to his steps, but it was alright - because he was smothered in you. your arms had immediately been around him with his chin tucked into your shoulder so he could get a better grip on the scent he had craved throughout the hours you had been apart.  

it fell into a routine after that and was no longer a request that needed reminders. sylus didn’t have to ask if he needed to clear a drawer in the bedroom dresser or space in the master bathroom because you were already there nearly every night, your knees digging into his stomach while you were sleeping until he grumpily grumbled and pushed them down, your shoes left by the front door, your toothbrush lying around. mephisto's shadow edging closer by each night until he learns to sleep with the light hum of machinery above his head.

he couldn’t find it in him to complain because there was nothing to grouse about. you were in his house, your shampoo lingered on his pillow, and he could walk through the front door to find you lounging on the couch. 

“why do I always seem to find you like this, sweetie?” he asked one particular late night after finishing his affairs for the night. he let out a soft groan, a small but noticeable sign of vulnerability that was reserved just for your shared proximity as he lowered to be able to get to a height that suited your resting form. 

“mmm?” you mumbled through a cloud of exhaustion. “me on the couch?”

sylus chest rumbled softly with a chuckle, brushing the mussed hair away from your eyes. “yes, kitten, you fell asleep on the couch. come, let’s get you up." 

but you had fallen still to his advances to tuck his insistent hands despite your sluggish resistance to help hoist you to your feet. you peered up at him through blinking eyelashes, assessing his gaze while you intertwined your fingers around his. "i like the couch, sy,” you whispered softly, “i like everything about your home." 

he paused, tongue suddenly heavy with the weight of words he'd been harboring for weeks. "do you enjoy it enough to stay here permanently and bicker with me about who ate the last imported candies? or if one of us remembered to let mephisto back in?" 

”‘course, sy.“ you buried your fingers deeper into his hair and watched as his eyelids fluttered shut in relief. "i love wherever you are." 

[chosok-amo]

⠀WITCHES SEEN IN TOWN ! ⠀RUN, ⠀RUN

𝜗𝜚 the witches run around, run around, run around the town with her broom, one young man, two young man and three she take them to her basement. taglist : open!

this is my first time as a participant in kinktober : may the witch and rest of the young man soul be a treasure to your pleasure and hunger ( beware of the witch ).

FIRST WEEK

OCTOBER 1ST. HAIL TO THE GHOST!

feat. rival ghost face! gojo satoru + séx tape / hate sex.

♱ summary. bent over, bent down and said cheese to the camera, click! one, two, three... another, cheese! it was fun, haunting down by a ghost

content. college! au, séx tape, hāte sex, háir-pulling, name-calling, cunnilingūs, slapping, spanking.

OCTOBER 4TH. THERE IS A WITCH IN THE WOODS

feat. loser! geto suguru + public space.

♱ summary. to a witch, there is nothing more appealing than a young man wandering around the wood alone at halloween night. and there is nothing more appealing than a witch, naive, stupid, witch.

content. college! au, public place ( woods ), full-nēlson, breeding-kīnk, mention multiple rounds, rough sèx.

OCTOBER 7TH. ABRACADABRA, POOF! THE D IS GONE

feat. ex-boyfriend! toji + public space.

♱ summary. you and your friends decided it is a good time to go on the haunted house your campus held, and . . . boo! that ’s the vampire, waiting to suck your soul behind the fake tree. . . from between your legs.

content. college! au, public place, ōrgasm control, choking manhandling, cūnnilingus.

SECOND WEEK

OCTOBER 8TH. FILTHY, FILTHIEST, MONKEY?

feat. cultleader! geto suguru + bondage.

♱ summary. a follower should be loyal to their master, don't you think? that ’s what geto thought also, sooo, why are you outside his temple, dressing as a slūtty angel waiting for your boyfriend to go for a halloween party? better looking for a good explanation or geto is going to get madddd.

content. cult leader! au, bondage, exhibitiōnism, mat-pressing, dumbification.

OCTOBER 11TH. THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT

feat. trueform! sukuna + dōuble penetration.

♱ summary. you were drunk and idiot, a stupid, idiot, virgin. it's your first time going to a halloween party and the first thing you did was crashing through a shrine, not just a regular shrine, but a king, giant, curse ’s shrine, and imagine, would you like a cherry popping with double-d?

content. college!au, heian era sukuna, manhandling, he uses his stomach mouth(s), cherry popping, dōuble penetration, creampied, dacryphilia, dumbification, bréeding kink.

OCTOBER 14TH. SCREAM IF YOU ARE MASOCHIST

feat. gojo satoru + masochist.

♱ summary. shibuya was packed, what is the best thing other than meet a stranger? especially, meeting the gojo satoru, your collage well-known fuck boy, will he still be able to fuck around when he's being tied-up?

content. college! au, tied-up, dacryphilia, orgāsm play, tits-fūck, ōral, body-worship.

THIRD WEEK

OCTOBER 15TH. FREAKS COMES OUT AT NIGHT

feat. bully neighbor! geto, gojo, sukuna + foursome.

♱ summary. who said trick or treat is only for a kids? then, pleaseeee, explain, why your neighbor ’s bullies are on your doorstep, and instead of bringing a bucket for their treats, they bring dildōs and handcuffs, and for the treats, instead of candy, they want you.

content. neighbors! au, exhibitiōnism, dōuble penetration, handcuffs, sēx toy, body worshipping.

OCTOBER 18TH. PAINT THE TOWN RED

feat. porn content creator! geto + orgāsm control / exhibitiōnism.

♱ summary. your viewers want you to use little devil ’s costume for halloween edition live. geto, more than happy to oblige. he loves having his little partner squirting and crying on his lap, with little red horn on his lap.

content. content creator! au, fingering, using a sēx toy, nipple-plāy, dōuble-penetration.

OCTOBER 21ST. THE DEVILS WEAR SUITS AND TIES

feat. ex-boyfriends! geto & gojo + threesome.

♱ summary. you thought it was a good idea to show up at a club when you just having a break with your boyfriends and wearing a little too less of clothes? of course not, but maybe, a little too little was meant to be a little too good.

content. brat tamer, angry sēx turns to be makē-up sex, dōuble penetration, body worship, ōral ( m & f receiving ), āss-eating, drugging, pūssy drunk ( gojo & geto ).

FOURTH WEEK

OCTOBER 24TH. MY GIRLFRIEND IS A WITCH

feat. boyfriend! choso, yuki + threesome / voyeurism.

♱ summary. choso and his girlfriend, yuki, need a little girlfriend for her virgin boyfriend to get laid in the middle of halloween night. lucky for him, you are sitting in the bar alone, looking all too pretty with your witch costume and just got dump from your boyfriend.

feat. college! au, sēx with strangers, double penetration, scissoring, voyeurism.

OCTOBER 27TH. MY DADDY'S GOT A GUN

feat. husband! nanami + brat tamer.

♱ summary. playing cat and mouse with nanami was all fun and games, especially when you were being a brat a whole week. so, he dress as a michael myers, chasing you down around the house. run, or hide, i'm gonna fūck you hard! ’ he laughed. you screwed? bet you are but damn.

content. brat tamer, blood mentioned, knife play, masochist, spanking, praise, nāme-calling, very, very rough, manhandling.

OCTOBER 30TH. RUNNING UP THAT HILL

feat. sukuna ryomen + exhibitiōnism.

♱ summary. you? break up with me?! run down the hills to the graveyard, i fucking dare you. one step, two steps, if you reach the graveyard first then you will break up with him, but if he's the one who in the finish line first? well, let's just say you spend the rest of your life with him.

content. college! au, public space, dumbification, breeding-kīnk, praise, slight dacryphilia.

THE WITCH WILL BE SEEN ONCE SHE FIND ANOTHER YOUNG MAN TO SACRIFICE . . .

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