#and kinda under-utilized so far

[pennjammin]

run, rabbit, run

JJK HALLOWEEN! nanamixreader

summary ❥ you babysit for the wealthy single dad who lives across the street. it’s the end of october and his halloween party is the talk of the neighborhood. you’re not invited because the kids are out of town, but you decide to pop up on him anyway, and he shows you just how badly he’s been dying to get you alone without the children.

CONTENT: age gap, 86’d sorcery, dilf!nanami, toys, smut, alcohol, dom!nanami, cunnilingus, afab!reader, fluff, friends to lovers kinda, bossxworker, aftercare, slowwwww burn, reader wears animal ears during sex, breeding kink, spit kink, masochism.

word count. 10k

soundtrack 💿: eating - madeintyo

p.s. there’s a joke in here involving the color of 🐱; i know everyone’s is not the same color so , fill in the blank for the color that fits yours if u have one LOL

✩

You give your ass a good shake.

You’re making sure the long, fluffy tail poking out of your blue shorts isn’t going to fall out. It doesn’t.

You’re dressed as a fox, but not just any fox. A fox cop. You have on a short blue collared top, matching shorts, and of course you’d be no real cop without your utility belt housing fake handcuffs and a plastic baton. To top it all off, you’re wearing fuzzy fox ears on your head, and sheer tights to cover your legs.

You nod in the mirror, satisfied. But the real test, to you, is if Mr. Nanami will like it just as much.

Mr. Nanami is your employer, but more importantly, your neighbor. You watch his two young children five days a week; sometimes even overnight when he has a particularly busy work day. You consider yourself close with them, but your feelings about Nanami are a little deeper than that.

You’d seen him the first time a little under a year ago, when he’d been out on an early morning jog. From then, on you’d become disgustingly obsessed ever since.

Your schoolgirl pining only gets worse every time you see him, and recently you've even gone as far as trying to shamelessly flirt - but he seems to have absolutely no idea. That is the less painful explanation, the other being that he’s just not interested.

But you’re planning to see if you can get that to change tonight. You always dress sensible in front of his children; this will be the first time he's seeing so much skin. It has to work, right?

Tonight, Nanami is throwing the party of the century. He has house workers of all kinds who serve towers of food and delicious mixed drinks. The cherry is that his entire gated lawn has been decorated to the perimeter of fun inflatables and spooky decorations. You know it's mostly for his kids, whom he goes nothing short of above and beyond for.

However, he had informed you days ago that they would be out of town this weekend - and, even if they were not, he's off work, so he doesn’t need you. This means he also had not invited you to his party.

You clearly still intend to show up unannounced, a bold move on your part.

You lock up your house - a small, co-owned property that truly looks out of place across from Nanami's home - which he technically pays the rent for. You carefully make your away across the overcrowded street full of cars, decorations, and humans who are already half past drunk.

As you walk up the stone steps that lead to his front door, your stomach is keyed up. You shouldn't feel any different than you normally do when coming over for work, but you’ve really let this highly unprofessional crush of yours get out of control.

You make it to the porch. You're unsure if he will even hear the doorbell, but you press it anyway. The door slides open after about ten seconds, as if he has been standing there watching it. You feel your body freeze immediately upon seeing him.

Nanami is towering over you in the threshold. His face lights up almost instantly, but that's not all that has your heart threatening to crack open your rib cage; it's also his delicious white button down, popped open by a few to reveal tiny bits of blond chest hair, and then of course there are the long, white ears on top of his head.

“Why hello, officer, did we get a noise complaint?” He chuckles at his own dad joke before bowing his head in greeting. “Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. I figured you would be thrilled to not have to look at these four walls for a few days while my children are with... their mother.”

You watch his face drop in disgust at the mention of his ex-wife, but he’s never said anything bad about her. Whenever you’d asked why things hadn’t worked out, he’d said "they just didn't." And that was that, but part of you aches to know what had happened.

It shouldn’t matter. He is not interested in you. He gives you a paycheck, and that is all.

"Well," you begin carefully, "Who would want to miss out on the most exclusive Halloween party of the year?"

This coerces a deep laugh out of Nanami, then he steps aside and allows you to walk in. He is holding a short rocks glass of unidentified brown liquor, and you can smell whatever it is in a cloud around him.

Once inside, Nanami’s voice is quite muffled from the clank of dishes and bustle of workers. The two of you stop to stand in the foyer, a grand crystal chandelier winking at you from above.

"Exclusive isn't the word I'd use," he says, following your eyes as he takes a sip. "Everyone and their mother is here. Literally." He tilts his glass towards an elderly woman who stands next to a redhead about Nanami's age.

You should be laughing at his joke but instead, your stomach knots grow tighter at the reminder of how many people his age are here preying on him, the neighborhood catch, with careers and homes of their own.

Nanami is seven years your senior, you think. No wonder he wants nothing to do with a young, non career-oriented thing like you when he has all of these sophisticated people crawling at his feet.

You can't think about that now, or the courage you’ve spent a week building will cease to exist.

"Heh - well, either way," you continue, "it's a big party. I know the kids aren't here, but-"

"But I'm glad you are," Nanami smiles, his eyelids hanging a little low from the liquor in his system. "You look very nice, darling. I like your ears."

He grins and points to his own headband. A grown and very, very large man dressed as something as vulnerable as a little rabbit has your nerves aflame.

"Hmm, I bet you do," you tease. “Like it so much you had to copy me?”

Nanami makes a disapproving sound with his tongue, leaning forward a bit to be eye level with you. "Copy you? I was unaware that rabbits and foxes were the same animal. In fact," he adds, "if I'm not mistaken, foxes are a rabbit's natural predator."

You had been trying to look away from him now that he has moved so close, but as the last sentence rolls out of his mouth, you make the mistake of looking directly into his eyes - and what you see makes your limbs jelly. Maybe it's your delusions, but he seems to be drinking you up equally as much as he is his liquor.

You laugh to pop the bubble of tension, but Nanami's face remains as still as ice.

"Well, I certainly don't think I pose a threat to you, sir," you say, voice unnervingly dry. "You are twice my size."

At this, his intense stare transitions into a soft smile. "You just have to get my guard down. Then, I'm sure a little thing like yourself would be able to have your way with me."

You blink quickly, assuming you've misheard him. Then again, though, he tends to say things that could be flirty - but he is just a naturally charismatic man. Means nothing.

"Ah," you mumble out, shifting your weight from side to side. You have to find a way to change the subject, but most importantly, you need get his attention off of you. You’d wanted it so bad, now you don’t know how to handle it. As you scheme, he sips his drink again, eyes still watching you over the rim of the glass.

"So... the kids always go with their mom on Halloween?" you ask abruptly.

Nanami quickly swallows his sip before shaking his head. "Well I had them for the Fourth of July, you recall."

You do recall. A little too well. Nanami in nothing but tight, black swim shorts and his signature sunglasses as he flipped meat over the grill - and you playing in his pool with the kids. He’d invited you to celebrate the holiday with him after his kids had begged, but your mind was definitely elsewhere. The memory popping into your head almost makes you not hear what he says next.

"We alternate holidays. So I will have them for Thanksgiving, she for Christmas," he shrugs a shoulder. "I would have traded Thanksgiving for Christmas, but alas. Christmas is always the busiest day of the year for me, so they would just miss out on time with their father anyway. I couldn't ask you to ditch your holiday plans for us, again, either."

He sighs. You feel your heart ache; he cares deeply about his kids, but he is definitely a workaholic. That is why you spend every chance you get at his house… well, that’s mostly why. But even then, you sometimes wish you stayed more to help, because Nanami works tireless double shifts, then spends his off days trying to make up for lost time with the kids.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," you say, attempting to comfort him. "You're an amazing father who is doing all he can. They love you so much."

He smiles and bows his head politely, so as to say thank you. "They love you as well. Sometimes, I think more than they do their mother."

You swallow a choke, before rutting out, “Surely not."

Before Nanami has the chance to reply, an older woman who you’d come to known as Agnes walks by with a large tray arraignment of bright green cocktails.

“Nanamin!” she shrieks out. “Where would you like me to put these? Very afraid of them falling. There’s drunkards crawling up the walls! I’ve already swept up sixteen broken glasses! Sixteen!”

You and Nanami turn to look at her with an equally astonished expression.

Nanami leans forward a bit to whisper in your ear, “My apologies in advance for her erratic behavior.”

Agnes is still staring wildly between the two of you as you giggle, awaiting further instructions from Nanami.

“Sit them wherever you think is safest,” he says calmly.

She huffs but ultimately takes his word, speeding off with her kitten heels clacking against the marble floor.

Nanami turns back to you and opens his mouth, but another voice cuts him off.

“Nanami, sir!”

You feel a twinge of irritation in your chest, but you really shouldn’t. He is the host and people need his attention. You should have seen this coming.

“Is everything okay?” he questions politely, turning to face the short brunette in front of him, who bats her eyelashes.

“I… I think that someone is fighting outside,” she says quickly, unable to keep eye contact.

Nanami is a smart man, though. “Oh? Well, what shall we do about that?”

“I thought you could run and stop them,” she says, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m in no mood to be in the middle of a brawl,” he says sternly. “Have the butlers stop it, and remove them. You try not to get involved either.”

She huffs and spins on her heel, walking back through the living room with an angry stomp in her step.

Nanami clicks his tongue, “I really need to have her counseled in compulsive lying. She cries wolf so many times a day.”

You’ve never seen her before, she must be new. This makes you jealous all over again. She’s not quite as old as the rest of the workers, but still older than you. The issue is you see yourself in her, the uncontrollable pining over your shared boss. She just makes hers much more obvious.

Nanami clears his throat, and you notice too late how his hand has slithered to the small of your back.

“Perhaps we should escape somewhere more secluded, hm?” he says. “I really am enjoying our conversation. A shame we keep getting interrupted.”

You swallow thickly. The hair on your spine has raised at his sudden contact, making you shiver.

“Yes, that’s a good idea, sir,” you say, trying to hide how dry your voice has gotten.

Not another word is uttered before Nanami is swiftly whisking you off to another room; his hands now free of his drink and instead gently guiding you by his hand placement.

His gaze is not as focused on you as it is leading you both through the overwhelming crowd of people, and to the hall under the stairs that you know for a fact leads to his workspace. He moves his hands into yours as he gently pushes you ahead of him.

You take the lead and find yourself pushing open the big door to his study. Inside is a complete reflection of Nanami, his wealth and his cleanliness. Even his desk is free of papers, or any indication at all that he works in here.

You recall the days he works from home, in this very study, and he'd still be in his work suit, just minus the blazer. You'd let the kids sneak in on him, only once or twice thoughout the day, just to see his smile; and while you’re already there, you'd drop off a cup of hot coffee to help him plow through the rest of his shift.

He shuts the doors behind you both as you run to make yourself comfortable in his desk chair, spinning around like a child.

As you do so, you fail to see or hear his fingers slyly clicking the lock on the door.

“Much better,” Nanami breathes, moving to flick on a floor lamp in the corner, giving the study a soft, warm glow accompanied by the full Halloween moon. “Now, what were we discussing?”

“You, uh,” you clear your throat as you stop spinning in the chair to face him. “You really didn’t have to come in here just to talk to me. You are the man of the evening, you know.”

Nanami rolls his eyes, an out-of-character action you never thought you'd see, but one that looked so tasty, so sultry. God, you’re a pervert in heat - and your sweet, sweet boss is completely oblivious to the kind of horrible thoughts you have daily about him.

Nanami's now staring at you. His mouth is moving, but you have no idea what he had been saying.

"… to spend time with all of those shallow, insolent creatures,” you register, “when I have someone like you here?" He walks over to the desk and leans against it, right next to you now, as he crosses his arms over his massive chest. "We have never just sat down and talked. We always have little people depending on us or wanting our attention. Tonight, I’d like that to change.”

You let his words simmer for a moment. “What is it you’d like to talk about, Mr. Nanami?” you then question.

“What did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ nonsense?” He frowns. “That makes me feel so old.”

"Sorry, sir," you gulp, not intending to upset him. You just can't help the way 'Mr.' and 'Sir' roll off your tongue, or how bad you enjoy seeing him shift uncomfortably at the use of the names.

"Meanie," he tuts, knocking you playfully with his leg. Another uncharacteristic action.

"What'd I do?" you blink, tilting your head as you look up at him.

"You mean besides drive me insane with your teasing?" he questions, before his eyes widen and he looks as though he's just spilled a secret. "I- wow, I am sorry. That is not what I meant to say."

"I drive you insane?" you echo. "I didn't even think you noticed my… teasing.”

Nanami's face is neutral, but his jaw is working under his skin. "I’m not naive, little fox." He lets out a breath. “This was truly an excellent costume choice.”

He leans forward and flicks the furry ear on your head.

“Thank you,” you smile. “I can’t say the same for yours. You hardly scream innocent bunny.”

“What about me isn’t innocent?” he raises a brow, standing off of the desk.

“I…” you blink as he walks around to the back of the desk chair. “You’re just, um…”

“Fox got your tongue?” he coos, spinning the chair so that you’re forced to face him.

You inhale a deep breath and hold it as heat travels through your stomach and right to the center of your thighs.

“You’re a man who is about his business,” you say. “I imagine you’ve… had a lot of life experiences,” you pause to remind yourself to breathe, but it’s hard because of how ferociously Nanami is staring into your eyes. “So you c-can’t be all that innocent…”

“You seem nervous,” he coos. “Here. Let’s stand up, I’ll sit down. Maybe that will help you to not be so tense, hm?”

Your body obeys before your mind catches on. You’re standing in a beat, and Nanami has replaced you on the chair. Your bottom hits the crease of his large desk, and you slam your hands down on the surface to balance yourself.

“Sorry,” you say, putting a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t mean to imply that you make me uncomfortable, sir.”

Nanami's pupils flash white, but it's gone so quickly, you might have imagined it. "If I do, please let me know immediately.”

“No,” you say, dropping your hand, “I just think we need to get to know each other better, right? Our entire relationship is through the kids. I know that your son’s favorite shade of green is kiwi, but I don’t even know your first name.”

Nanami chuckles at this. “You know, I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He taps your knee. “Kento, silly girl. My first name is Kento.”

"A-And your favorite color?” you continue, trying to ignore how close he’s moved the chair towards you, now that you have fully planted your bottom on his desk.

“Pink,” he says, serious as death.

You giggle. “Why pink?”

“It’s the color of my favorite thing to eat,” he says, slowly placing his arms on either side of your thick thighs, hands planted flat on the surface of the desk.

You think for a moment. “Strawberry ice cream?”

“No,” he cocks his blond head to the side and his eyes fall on your tights. “Try again.”

You pretend to think, though you fear you may be catching on now. “Hmm, dragonfruit?”

“Nah,” Nanami says, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His pupils have been dilated from the alcohol, but there is an unrelated darkness in his eye now. “Something I don’t even have to swallow.”

You gulp. “Oh,” your suspicions have been confirmed.

“Get it now, little fox?” he coos.

“Mhmm,” you taunt back. “Well, I suppose I came prepared with your favorite dish, then.”

“Did you?” His hands boldly make their way to the top of your thighs, barely hovering over the skin but enough to make the flesh there light on fire. “Prepared it all nice and pretty for me?”

“Yes sir,” you nod eagerly, feeling your own boldness appear as your knees slide further away from one another. “How do you like it?”

“Extra moist,” he grits hungrily, fingernails curving into your tights and shredding a thick rip! through the material.

You gasp, entire torso lurching forward as he drags the hole bigger and bigger.

“Sorry, little fox. They were in the way,” he shrugs an innocent shoulder. “And what should we do about these shorts? They’re in the way, too.”

“Then let’s get them off,” you whisper, hardly registering that such filth had been uttered.

This truly can’t be happening. Is Nanami… Kento Nanami actually going to eat you out? Are his hands really slithering up your waist and fumbling with the button on your shorts, or are you in some kind of sick daydream?

"Mr. Nanami-"

"Please," he holds up a hand, one still remaining on the button of your shorts. "Kento. Call me Kento."

"Kento," you echo softly, and his eyelashes flutter. “You really want to do this?”

Nanami sucks in a breath. Several moments of silence pass, then his fingers are gently pressing against your chin, and he has risen to tower above you. "Maybe it's the liquid courage in me that's pushing me," he says, "but I’m okay with that. I dream about you on my tongue, night after night. I need you, Y/N.”

Instead of allowing you to reply, Nanami's lips are assaulting yours in a flash. A harsh, irrational kiss from a man who's lost his battle of self control.

Your hands fly up to his face to balance yourself at the sheer force the shock of the kiss has on you. He groans softly into you as your lips mold together, getting used to the shapes of each other’s mouths.

You want to begin deepening the kiss, but Nanami is suddenly pulling away.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. You look at his face; for a man who is always so calm and composed, he is flushed and even shaking a little. “I should have asked if that was okay.”

"Did you hear me complaining?" you ask sternly.

“No-”

“Then shut up and kiss me, Kento.”

He wastes no time obeying your command; this time as he kisses you, his hands find the soft skin where your hips crease into your thighs. You’re aware of your thighs rubbing against his stomach as he crawls further on top of you.

You slide your arms up around the back of his neck to hold onto him as his lips work pure ecstasy into your mouth.

You sigh against him and he digs his fingers into your sides to get you to do it again. Now his tongue is in your mouth, softly swirling your own, smacking fiercely on your lips as he does so.

You're panting now, but Nanami is swallowing your breath with every second. He's leaning his weight on his palm, so his body isn't quite attached to yours, but you want to make him lose his balance so he can crash down on top of you. Every moment that you stay like this, your cunt drips wetter and wetter, seeping through your shorts onto his desk.

"So perfect," Nanami utters into your mouth, "s'much sweeter than I deserve."

You frown at his self deprecation but don't comment, instead your hands start sliding down his chiseled back, exploring the deep ridges and shapes of pure, hard muscle.

Then, plop! You blink in shock as his bunny ears have fallen plum onto your face, nearly gauging out your eye.

"Oh," he gasps, breaking away from you. "Forgot about these."

He pulls away from you, standing upright but staying between your legs. You swallow a needy whine at his absence, before sitting up with him, staring expectantly.

"Think they'll look better on you though, huh, darling?" he coos, reaching over your head and plucking your fuzzy ears off. Then, he’s replacing them with his bunny ears. "There, that's more fitting. I feel much more like the hunter than the hunted.”

You tilt your chin defiantly. "Mm, so I'm just an innocent rabbit in the sights of a dangerous hunter?"

“Clever bunny,” Nanami murmurs, leaning forward and catching you by surprise with a wet kiss at the nape of your neck. You shudder. “Time for me to eat my latest catch, hm?”

“I-I guess so-”

“Oh, don't get shy now, bunny,” he mewls against your ear. “Do you want to do this?”

You pretend to consider it, but your dripping hole has already answered for you. "Yes, sir."

Nanami purrs in response and taps your earlobe with his perfect teeth - before you're being shoved back on the flat surface. Three quick beats occur. Beat, shorts off. Beat, tights off. Beat, panties sliding slowly down your legs.

"God," he says, hooking his fingers over the trim of the panties, which are light blue in color, accented by an adorable pink bow in the front. "All this time, I could've had you like this, if only-” he cuts himself off to lean down and place a kiss to your inner knee.

Your nerves send repeated quivers over you. You dig your nails into the desk, but your palms are so sweaty that your hand slips. Nanami catches you, a heavy hand on your lower back, the other hand entangling in your panties and proceeding to rip them all the way off. Your clothes are now in a discarded pile to the right of you, fuzzy tail and ears a reminder of what got you into this position in the first place.

“Well we can make up for lost time now,” you whisper, sliding your feet farther apart until your knees are angled into the air - gaping pussy winking up at Nanami.

His eyes nearly jump from his body as he watches you open up for him, glistening cunt all in his face. He's sinking back down into the chair before either of you really processes it, and his heavy palms fall flat on your inner thighs.

"She's s'pretty, sweetheart," he coos, the breath from his words tickling your clit and making you writhe pathetically. "Haven't even touched you yet. Why are you shaking?”

You whine out in embarrassment. Something about your most perverted fantasies coming alive before you, Nanami talking to you like this, and him staring directly at the forbidden parts you'd never thought he'd see, is depleting your confidence.

"What's wrong, bunny?" he asks, reading your expression. "You look like you are second guessing this."

"N-No!" you cry out, making him jump, before you sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. No, I want to. I'm just embarrassed."

"Why?" he perks a brow, astonished.

"Because you're so..." you huff uncomfortably, "fine, and here I am, of course anyone would be embarrassed of their own genitals, y'know I just kind of never expected this and-”

"Y/N," Nanami interrupts. "I've seen plenty of these before; all different types, sizes and colors. I am going to devour you regardless of what you think.”

You swallow thickly. Your head nods like a puppet, though you're unsure if that's you saying you understand, or telling him to go ahead.

While you're deciding, Nanami plants a kiss to your bikini line, then slides his hands to wrap his arms around your thighs so that it's now impossible for you to close them. Your stomach is on fire, and you're on the verge of gyrating your pelvis right into his stupidly perfect face.

"Tell me you want this, bunny," Nanami rasps, placing another loud kiss to your inner thigh.

"I want this," you confirm again, "want you."

You don't have to say anything else because his mouth has already found your clit. Warm breath travels between your folds as he keeps his tongue narrowed out to swirl agonizingly slow circles over the bulb.

Your hips convulse against his strength. It does nothing except prompt Nanami to flatten his whole mouth over your heat and pick up speed with his tongue.

"Oh, ohh," you drawl, your hands leaving the desk surface and going right through his fine hair. His hold on you ensures you can’t fall backwards, but you’re gripping his roots for dear life.

He grumbles against your cunt and you feel it all the way up to your ovulating uterus. The desire to have your womb house more of his children starts to enter your brain and you have to remind yourself that this is just sex.

Oh, but it's so much more than that. Nanami's taking his time to work your body, to know exactly which pace makes you cry out like a pathetic fucktoy, noting when you wriggle under his grip, as he pushes his fingertips into the flesh on your legs.

His warm tongue keeps your puffy lips parted effortlessly; lathering you up with his saliva, drinking in the fluid your body creates more of each second.

You sit up farther to look down at him; his eyebrows are furrowed and focused, his cheeks hollowed as he treats your twitching clit like his tongue’s dance partner.

He swirls, flicks, slurps - each variation unlocking a new noise from you as you fight back your orgasm.

As you watch him, your fucked-out, needy brain begins to tell you would give him whatever he wanted in this moment; six children and a house from scratch if that's what he requested. Because he deserves it; the way his tongue’s now dipping slightly into your desperate hole, making your hips jerk from the desk until he counter-forces them with his hands.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snaps, grazing his teeth over your clit.

You can’t even speak; he’s eaten your voice right out of you. His head shakes side to side as he plants his mouth back on you and peers up through his blond lashes, daring you to pull that stunt a second time.

Your hands are still deeply entangled in his roots, but at this point you can't keep your eyes in the front of your head. Your head lolls back on your neck as your hips twitch with an unholy amount of momentum. Your moans are growing dangerously loud; knowing full well there's an entire party nearby, as well as the possibility of nosy maids. Not that either of you care.

"Kento, s-so good," you lament, bucking your hips into his chin as if you could chase more pleasure than he's already giving you. The heat in your stomach is the first indication that your pleasure is morphing into an orgasm, but you don’t want to cum yet.

You want to try and run again, just to give yourself a little time to catch up…

The minute Nanami feels your hip bones sliding away from him, he pulls his mouth off of you; your orgasm slipping away. You take a deep breath in regret.

“Someone must not want to cum,” he taunts, keeping his mouth close to your trickling cunt. “Need you to stay still.”

“I can’t,” you breathe, trembling.

“Try for me?” Nanami requests softly, lifting your thighs into the air before plopping your feet flat on his shoulders.

He plants a heavy kiss to your clit after the adjustment in your position and you dig your toes into his back.

“F-For you,” you repeat mindlessly, brain officially scrambled like a breakfast platter.

“Mmh-” Nanami grunts, planting his fat tongue back between your slick folds, working his jaw intensely to finish pulling the orgasm out of you. He sticks the narrow tip back at your hole, flicking the rim of the inside as if it’s his purpose for living.

Your toes lift into the air as Nanami tests your flexibility, pushing your knees next to your ears. With the pressure built up in your stomach, you barely have time to mutter out the announcement of your orgasm before you're cumming all over his tongue and clenching your walls around the wet muscle.

"Give it to me, bunny," he moans, words muffled because of the way you're gripping his tongue with your pussy.

You keep shaking for a solid thirty seconds, because he is refusing to take his tongue out of you. When finally you’ve calmed to a slight twitch, he removes his face from between your thighs and the entire lower half of his face glistens in the light.

"That's one," he murmurs to himself, crawling back over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. "You did so well. You taste so sweet, bun.”

"Can I return the favor?" you ask needily, dragging your palm down his chest.

He grinds his pelvis across your lower half, so that you can feel the sheer length of his bulge beneath his pants. "What for?"

Your eyes widen at just how large it feels; surely it's smaller than it appears.

"Wanna please you, sir," you babble out, watching his eyebrows furrow at the self-proclaimed pet name.

"Hm, think that ship sailed long ago,” he chuckles, rubbing his clothed dick against your inner thigh this time, and now, you take notice of the warm trail of precum that’s leaked through his pants onto your skin.

You dig your nails into his chest instead of replying. He bites back a groan and kisses your neck.

“I’m going to have to restrain you if you want’a keep being so touchy," he whispers sternly.

"I do have handcuffs," you say, following it with a giggle. Though you’re only half joking.

"That's cute," he mewls. "You think I need handcuffs to restrain you?" He pauses. "What's that you said? That I'm twice your size?"

You swallow thickly, remembering that you had, in fact, said that.

"So I can, and will easily pin you down, bun," he continues. "Don't act up, and I won't have to, yeah?"

You wish you can say you won’t, but if he thinks you dislike the idea of being pinned down, he must not be faking his innocence, like you’d thought.

A moment later, he's standing away from you, and his hands expertly unbutton his shirt. You watch him with desire, and he smiles a little shyly at you as he shrugs off the garment and tosses it to the floor.

“Funny, you’ve seen me shirtless before,” he says suddenly. “Why do I feel a bit nervous about it this time?”

You giggle and cock your head to the side, legs still spread wide. “Should’ve always felt nervous. I’m a huge pervert, y’know.”

Nanami dips his head before coming back to be close to your body again, his fingers mindlessly tugging on the hem of your shirt now.

“I know,” he whispers. “A little minx, you are.”

“Took you long enough to realize it, hm?” you tease as you lift your arms to assist him in removing the shirt. But you are caught off guard when he doesn’t continue.

"You're still sure you want to do this?" he questions, changing the subject. “I'm sorry. I'm going to ask a hundred times, it’s just a habit.”

"Yes, Kento," you rasp frustratingly. "Do I have to get on my knees and beg to be fucked for you to get it?"

He blinks, stunned, as if that is not something he ever considered; but does sound appealing to him.

"No," he says quickly, slowly lifting your shirt further over your body. "How did we end up here, hm? Was this your plan from the moment you crashed my Halloween party?"

"Uh-uh," you say innocently, as he pulls the shirt over your head. Now you sit completely naked in front of him - save for the bunny ears on your head.

"I get the feeling you're a big, fat liar," he teases, leaning back over you, now your stomachs are touching and everywhere your skin meets is tingling. "Didn't I tell you to be a good girl? Good girls don't lie."

“‘M not lying," you argue. "Admit you were over here waiting for me to show up all night."

"Maybe I was," he murmurs, dragging his top teeth over the connection between your neck and your shoulder before planting a wet kiss on your collar bone. "And you came for me, like always."

A gasp erupts from your throat and Nanami cuts it off by sliding his hand there. He uses his fingers to apply the gentlest amount of pressure to the sides of your neck and your body arches against him.

"Tell me if anything I do is too much for you, little fox," he coos in your ear before dropping his hand from your neck and standing back straight to quickly unbuckle his belt.

He slides the garment out of his belt loops, and discards it to the side, on top of your clothes. So in other words: close by.

"Kento," you pant, "please."

"Please what?" he questions, raising a brow innocently as he pops open the button to his tight pants - visibly taking a deep breath as his bulge pokes free.

"You're dragging this out," you whine. "I've needed you for so long. This is torture."

"So what?" he shrugs, allowing his pants to fall to the floor, where he steps out of them.

"I..." you cut yourself off with a frustrated grunt.

"You said please, but you aren't using your words, little fox.” He slides his body back over yours - his boxers now being the only barrier between you. "What do you want?"

"You, your cock, your mouth," you pant all of it out in one quick sentence. "I... I just need you inside of me, Mr. Nanami."

Your breasts rub against his hard chest, teasing your achingly hard nipples. Just so pathetic. Can’t control yourself. Your brain's swirling with desire and ecstasy for him. If he can't read your mind, you're sure he can see it in your face.

"Okay, sweetheart," he says, voice returning to its usual softness, "you got me. All yours."

He tugs his boxers down quickly, desperately. Now your hips are aligned to each other's. He's still hovering, his cock not even touching you yet. He slides a hand between your legs as his other keeps you steady, gripping harshly on your hip which is sure to leave a delicious bruise.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he drags his mouth across your jaw before attaching his lips to your neck. His fingers gather the drip from your hole, and then he slides them up through your folds and to your clit. He swirls the fingers softly, keeping his ear right next to your mouth so that he can hear exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your legs shake against his ribs while you moan for him, and he grunts as he takes in all of your body's reactions to his touch.

He goes to try and put a finger in your cunt but you grab his wrist. He does not argue with you, which should be a red flag, but you think you’ve won until he takes the hand he had been using to play with you and grips your wrist, yanking it back, and your entire body goes falling against the desk.

Somehow, both of your wrists are being pinned to the wood in one large hand now. You whine and squirm under him, but he doesn't care. His free hand grabs his cock.

He takes the heavy tip and taps it against your clit several times, each time causing you to gasp and arch against him.

"That's right," he whispers above you. "No escaping now, bun."

You blink up at him, lifting your hips to grind your pussy on him, which causes his lips to part and his eyebrows to furrow.

You open your mouth, tongue flying out, wanting to appeal to another twisted fantasy. “Need your spit,” you mumble shyly.

He seems to ponder for a moment before he realizes what exactly it is you are asking, and a moment later he is leaning forward, dripping a warm glop of saliva from his mouth down your throat.

“Mmh-” you moan as you swallow happily, before looking down between your legs where he is finally done lubricating himself on your juice. He's staring at you hopelessly, as if he’s thinking that putting his cock in you isn't going to be enough.

“So nasty,” he coos, “ready for me, sweetheart?”

"Hngh- please," you beg.

Not a second later, hot pressure is at your hole. Nanami slides his hips upward to push himself deeper, deeper, deeper - the girth feeling like it's going to simply rip you in half.

You shriek and shut your eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to pass. It doesn't.

You feel so embarrassed as he takes his free hand to lift up your left thigh, because pain shoots up through your stomach - and not the good kind.

"Ah- wait," you cry out, eyes falling open.

Nanami stops immediately. "What's the matter?"

"It... it hurts," you admit shyly, biting your lip. "Wh-Why d'you have to be so big?"

"Why d'you have to be so tight?" he chuckles back, but carefully slides out of you. "Hang on. I know what will help, little fox."

He pulls away from you, letting go of your wrists to lean over and dig into a random drawer in his desk. You have no idea what he could possibly be doing until he stands back straight, a hand still holding up your leg, while the other holds a small, light pink, bullet-shaped rubber object.

"Brand new," he says, eyeing it as he rotates it between his fingers. "Just put batteries in it."

You swallow as you realize what this implies. He knew he was going to fuck you - or at least, that he was going to use this toy on you at some point. Or, a third worse thing: it hadn't been for you at all.

You don’t want to think about that possibility, though.

He hands the little toy to you, a small buzz coming from it already.

"Hold it for me," he instructs. "I need my hands to keep my prey from running."

You gulp and do as he says, and again he is taking his cock head and pushing it against you, before it slides through the gummy entrance and you cry out again.

You hold the toy to your clit and the feeling travels straight through your veins. You focus on the vibrations and before you can even inhale again, your insides are completely full.

"Deep breaths, bun," he grunts, "feel her o-opening up… now.”

Did he just stutter? Kento Nanami, who's always so composed. You'd made him lose his wording. You.

Nanami takes his hands and pulls your knees up, holding them to his sides, while you keep your hand occupied on the little bullet between your legs.

The combination of the toy plus his cock filling you up and molding your walls against it has you aching to spill over, already.

Now that the searing has begun to dissolve, his cock is gliding effortlessly inside of you - feeling as though the organ was crafted to fit you perfectly. Your juices cover every inch of him, delicious squelches creating a symphony with your moans as Nanami's pace quickens.

He has his hands still pressed on your thighs but he leans forward and gently pulls a nipple into his warm mouth. You don't know what to do with your free hand, so it ends up on his back, nails mercilessly breaking open his skin. He hisses and nips your nipple between his teeth.

"Fuck. Me," he groans, pulling away from your chest to look down at you. You want to make a comment about how you already are, but he just looks so fucked out - so vulnerable. Lips puffy and wet, eyes shut tight, hair dangling over his forehead.

He’s ruined.

He claws his fingers into your outer thighs. His fingers dig so hopelessly into you as his cock swirls your insides, his hips now moving in a rhythmic wave motion.

Your hand falls away from your clit with the toy and you hardly notice that it's gone because now, his pelvis is brushing over it, sweat practically gluing the two of you together.

"Aw," he purrs, and you look up to see that his eyes are staring directly between your legs. "You’re creaming all over me. Shit - your cunt looks so good, swallowing me up.”

Your face heats and you take your hands to grip his arms, as he's now drilling into you so torturously that you're gliding up the desk - the sweat on your back making your skin slick. He notices you're moving away and shifts his hands to grab your hips, holding you down onto him, and now his fat tip is violating your cervix.

"H-Hah Kento, ngh - God," is all you can manage to say, but there’s nothing holy about what his cock is doing to you, as he angles himself upward, attacking your uterus from a new direction.

You shriek, so horribly loud. It sounds like a horror movie - which is fitting. You’ve nearly forgotten that it’s Halloween night; the moon full, your passions like the tides, being pulled to their peak.

You desperately feel a needy confession on your lips but you know that now isn't the time. You can't love a man you don't date... right? But you definitely love the way he's tearing up your insides, sure to leave you swollen and limping.

"I don't remember telling you that you could remove your hand," he snaps, realizing you’ve removed the bullet, "put it back. Now."

You shake your head, begging for mercy. "Was too much, c-can't take it."

"Yes you can," he whispers, leaning forward and hovering his mouth over yours, cognac-scented breath teasing your parted lips. "Put it back, or I stop."

You whine and obey, the vibration revisiting your clit making your body convulse against him.

"Mhmm, like that sweetheart," Nanami coos, staring at you as your face twists every couple of seconds from the introduction of new kinds of pleasure. "Stick that tongue back out for me."

Your mouth is open, drool practically spilling out of the sides in a millisecond. He's spitting another alcoholic saliva drop into your mouth the next.

His breath is ragged as he drags out, "Thought I knew everything. But y’teaching - hah - me new things. Like how I can never live without your pretty pussy, ever again."

You quiver your lip and dig your nails into his back again, ready to cum on his cock.

"S-Stop talking like that," you grit out. "G-Gonna cum if you don't stop."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" he questions harshly. "You can cum over and over. I’m not finished with you."

You shake your head, but before you can fire back, Nanami is suddenly sliding himself out of you. You panic and sit up, staring at him with wide eyes as he drops to sit on the chair.

His hands come up to grab your hips roughly, and he's effortlessly pulling you down off of the desk. Your stomach makes contact with his thighs as he lays you over his lap like a disobedient child.

"Nanami?" you breathe, but he doesn't seem to hear you at all.

"We just needed to pause for a second," he says softly, running a hand down your spine and over the hill of your ass. His voice is very misleading, as are his gentle gestures; you have no idea what's coming.

"N-No," you whine, "I was so close."

"But, naughty bunny, didn’t you tell me to stop?" he questions, distracting you from the fact that his fingers are sliding between your asscheeks and down to your swollen hole.

You jerk in his lap as two of his fingers glide down your slick, parting your thick lips, repeating the process several times just to watch you squirm.

“Y-Yes, but-”

“What’d I tell you about lying?” he grits, and a blink later his fingers have parted from your skin.

You turn to scold him and his hand cracks down on the back of your thighs.

You yelp, but the action exhilarates you in some kind of disgusting way.

“Oh, and here’s another for calling me Nanami,” he spits, another crack landing on your backside but this time - higher, and harder.

“K-Kento, I’m sorry,” you whine, but you truly don’t want it to stop. Your fingers dig into his leg and he hisses, his cock jerking against your stomach as his body responds.

“How sorry, bun?” he coos, voice faking softness before another pop! of his palm stings your skin.

“I’ll be good, promise,” you whisper, arching your hips up to encourage another smack.

“You like this, don’t you, naughty bunny?” he realizes suddenly, and you try to shake your head in denial - but he’s caught on. “Hm. I’ll only accept your apology if you give me two more orgasms. Deal?”

“Two?” you cry. “I-I’ve already had one!”

“Good things always cum in threes, baby,” he murmurs, running his hand over the pretty hand-shaped welps he’s left on your skin. “You can give it to me. You want to be good, don’t you?”

You don’t know when the shift happened, but you loved it. You loved how he was letting his soft facade crumble to the ground so that he could truly slap you around like you were just a hole. Truthfully, that’s all you wanted to be. Wanted to let him take out the stress of being a single father on your guts, fill you up with more babies to care for, and then kiss you on the forehead when it was all done.

Pathetic. This is still your employer, your boss. And not to mention how much older he is. You don’t care, but you’re unsure if he does.

“I wanna cum again, please,” you beg, wriggling your ass up to show him you still needed punishment.

He groans before his two thick fingers are pressing between your lips and then, shoving through the soft ring at your center.

Your body shamelessly arches, but he allows your arms to stay free, clawing into his skin wherever you can get a grip.

Nanami is making his own noises above you but you’re on the verge of tears, wailing and carrying on as he fucks you with his fingers, curling the tips into your squishy ridges to try and drive the cum out of you faster.

“Maybe we should get one of those tails with a plug,” he comments, tone implying he’s thinking out loud. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to see you in your cute little tail while I fuck you.”

“Hngh - no, mmh…” you don’t even know what noises to make anymore. Words escape your brain.

Nothing but mush and the burning of your approaching orgasm are on your mind.

“Hold it in for me,” Nanami requests suddenly, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready for it, sweetheart.”

“God,” you shake your head and clench your thighs, but Nanami’s strong hand forces them back apart.

Your toes curl on the other side of the chair, your head falling forward. The pulse in Nanami’s cock is still drumming against your abdomen, as if knocking on your tummy to threaten you to hold your orgasm.

“I-I can’t,” you say, “Please, can I-”

“Cum.”

Nasty, wet squelches don’t stop as your body sends you over the edge. Your vision blacks and you shake so hard that you nearly roll right to the floor.

He hums approvingly, slowing his fingers down as you clench around them. “Good job, bun. Only one more to go.”

“I can’t take another,” you shake your head, as he gently guides you up into a sitting position on his lap.

“You’re so strong,” he says, “the perfect person for me. The way you always take care of me and the kids, how you fit so effortlessly into our little family. I know you can do this for me, sweetheart. Let me repay you for all that you do for us. Make you feel good.”

You hadn’t expected this little speech. It almost brings you to tears as Nanami gently rubs your back, sliding his free arm underneath your legs to lift you princess-style back onto the desk.

“Say something,” he begs, his voice hoarse.

“I wanted to be good for you,” you grin softly, and he smiles back as he runs his hands gently over the top of your legs. “But you want to be good for me. Which is it?”

“Both,” Nanami whispers. “I told you that you already do everything that keeps me content. Now, I want to please you.”

You realize that he is passing his power off to you. Letting his dominance slip through his fingers and right into the palm of your hand. You think you can handle being in control for your final orgasm, so you grip him harshly by his cock and scoot your ass to the edge of the desk.

He moans so softly that it could have been a whimper. You take his curvy length and drag it up to be aligned with your hole.

“Is your cock alone gonna please me, hm?” you purr, swirling your hips to tease his cock head, salty precum spreading across your hole.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he mutters, body lurching forward as if he’s the overstimulated one.

“Prove it,” you quip, shoving him back inside of you before pushing your hips down onto him.

You furrow your eyebrows to try and pretend the pain of him entering isn’t still intense. You lift yourself off of your palms and feet, using them to fuck down onto his twitching cock.

“Hah - Y/N,” he speaks your name in two sultry syllables, putting his hands on the desk to fully release his control as you use him.

“Baby, I need to fill you up,” he continues, “b-but if you don’t want me to…”

“Yes,” you say, “want me to have your babies, Mr. Nanami?”

“Oh,” he whimpers, “shit. Shit, don’t say stuff like that.”

You whirl your hips on him in the shape of an ‘O.’

“Want to breed me?” you continue. “Make me all big and pregnant?”

“That’s enough,” he snaps suddenly, hand clamoring down on the belt that is to your side, before he grips the garment in his hand. He sits up from where he’d been leaning on you, before taking the leather and slithering it around your neck, pulling it through the buckle, and yanking it towards him like you’re just a pathetic bitch on a leash.

“You had your fun,” he grits, “now you need to remember your place, bunny. I’m going to fill you to the brim until your cunt can’t take anymore and it drips back out of you, got it?”

“Mmh,” you pull against his belt as your hips are no longer the once controlling the pace. “Nanami, n-nooo…”

Your voice tapers off as he fucks you, fucks you so good and hard and mean until you’re drooling and crying and shaking and hissing and-

“Cumming!” you scream, but Nanami shows no signs of slowing down.

“That’s it,” he says. “Number three. What about four?”

“Y-You said…”

“Oh, you’re the only one who gets to lie around here?” he chuckles, a deep hypnotic sound that vibrates against your chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m gonna - ngh” and one viscid moment later, Nanami begins to shudder, and it is the beginning of the end.

You cannot tell if you are mourning or rejoicing the conclusion of this insane chain of events, but you forget all about it when Nanami is spurting hot semen all over your taut, spongey walls - that are now sore and quivering from the excessive abuse.

Your name leaves his lips in between the sultry noises he makes, and his body jerks on top of you until he’s finished spewing his load. Now, he stands in front of you with his head dipped down as he pants for several seconds.

“Do you understand how addicting you are?” are the first words that leave his lips after he is able to drag his head up to look at you.

You’re focused on your own huffing as you try to come up with a witty response, but with your brain so fucked out, the only thing you can mutter is “Oh, Kento.”

He nestles his sweaty face into your neck and plants a feathery kiss there, reminding you that he is still the same gentle Nanami that tucks his children in bed at night and drinks green tea in the garden.

He is everything you have dreamed of, but the sex had truly sealed it. Now, as he slips out of you and his cum follows soon after, you feel your post-high clarity morphing into embarrassment at the fact that all you’d been feeling is lust; Nanami deserves so much more than that, including his recognition as a father.

“Why are you staring at me? Have I still got your nectar on my face?” he jokes, and you admire his ability to loosen the tension.

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, “I just think you are amazing. I don’t want you to think I really did just come for some cock.”

At this, he laughs so hard that his torso shakes. You smile, as it is rare to hear, and you are the cause of it.

He grabs his shirt and begins to use it to wipe himself off, then does the same for you, his movements intentional and gentle as he cleans you up, rubbing all of the puffy, red reminders on your body softly.

“I don’t think that,” he says with a crooked smile. “But whatever the case, I do hope that things have… changed between us.”

You scoff. “I should hope so,” you tease, tilting your head as he stops his hands on your body. “I hope you’re not going around making every person who comes near you cum three times in one sitting and expect to just be friends.”

He grins. “Nah, that treatment is reserved for you, bun.” His hands slide up your hair and pat the fuzzy ears on your head. “We should keep these around, though. But I’d like to take you out before we use them again.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring his face to yours, planting a gentle kiss on his nose. “Of course. You did say good things come in threes,” you grin. “The sex was one. The date will be two. What’s three?”

And your question gets answered nine months later, when Nanami proposes to you on a white beach in another country.

…Right before you go into labor.

But of course, once the baby is out, it’s time to start on number 4 the following Halloween.

A/N 2.0

ty all sm for the love on this series so far i’m rlly havin the time of my life writing all these twisted monster-fucker stories ^.^

~ pennjammin

[nouearth]

baby-sitting for miguel o'hara. (part ii)

miguel o'hara x m!reader headcanons.

part i.

warnings: smut, perverted!miguel, top!miguel, soft!miguel at times!!, bottom!male reader, small!male reader, thoughts of sex, fantasy!sex, masturbation, humping, kinda domestic idk.

notes: it's been a long time coming. 💀 i honestly was struggling to find like a plot for the second part, or just how to move forward. lmao. but i hope this turned out okay???

—never again, miguel promised himself that night. 

—it had been a few weeks since he last jerked off to your briefs. the blue undergarment that he came into were thrown somewhere under his bed, far from his reach.

—and as tempting as it was to smell you again, he mustered up the courage to leave the stained fabric alone. 

—for good.

—miguel despised what he had become.

—settling his sex life on a lone piece of fabric, it was pathetic. 

—from dusk til dawn, you participated in a triathlon of his delirious state of mind and competed for several awards that would then be mediated by miguel. 

—had it been a real competition, he would’ve been fired for exhibiting extreme favoritism because you’d win all the trophies and medals.

—a ‘helping hand’ award he would award you a few mornings ago, where he jerked off to the thought of you giving him a handjob during his lunch break.

—multiple ‘most improved’ awards for when you were able to throat his cock a little more than before.

—and another for when your ass was able to take miguel in without needing to pause or adjust for his size, even if the strain of your facial expressions told a different story.

—gagging in between moans, coughing out thick globs of spit, wincing in bittersweet pain when he pushed in, arching in complete pleasure when he pushed out.

—he loved the idea of watching and hearing you struggle because of his cock.

—though, it was only until recently when he began feeling a strong sense of guilt for portraying you in such a manner.

—it was a promotion at work that allowed his hours to be more flexible than before, and miguel utilized that to the fullest by spending every waking second with his daughter.

—and you.

—even when he came home early, he never sent you home.

—maybe it was the perfect opportunity to get one step closer into your pants.

—or maybe he wanted to get to know the babysitter that gabriella had taken an extreme liking to.

—get to know the babysitter that had somehow made miguel feel something more than simply lust.

—you hungry? you haven’t taken your eyes off of your thesis paper since i got here.

—hm...?

—that night, you’d look up at him with those bright eyes, that bright smile that latched onto miguel’s adam apple and made it hard for him to swallow. 

—it was as radiant as the first time he saw you. one wouldn’t be able to tell that you’ve been pulling all-nighters for the past few weeks.

—oh! i guess i’m a little hungry. i haven’t eaten since breakfast—

—breakfast? i told you that you could rummage through the pantries, right? you practically live here at this point.

—i know, i know! once i get in the zone, i kind of forget about everything… except for gabriella! it’s funny. as loud as her cries are, they’re kind of my savior right now.

—hm...

—it’s getting late, so i’ll just whip up something at home—

—no, stay. i’ll cook something.

—sir, you don’t have to—

—miguel’s chest swelled. that word again.

—i’m cooking. stay, or i’m firing you for wasting my ingredients.

—hey, unfair! pretty sure that’s a violation of our contract or something!

—it didn’t take long for it to become a regular occurrence.

—miguel would cook a late dinner for two, and he’d join you on the couch with a plate of what the limit of his culinary skills could whip up. 

—it wasn’t like this every day, but it was often, which was more than what miguel could ask for.

—he would use the little time he had with you to learn about you more. your interests, your background, your passions, your personality, and you’d do the same. 

—on some nights, he’d proof-read your thesis paper and provide some feedback that you would immediately take in consideration and make the changes to your paper.

—on many nights, he’d simply close your laptop and force you to take a break because as alluring as those recent eye bags were, your health was a priority.

—stay for the night. it’s late.

—i’m almost done for the night! i just have a few more—

—nope, you’ve used up all your excuses. i’m confiscating this.

—where am i even supposed to sleep?!

—and on those many nights, you’d end up sleeping on miguel’s couch despite the persistent offers of his comfier bed.

—there would be times where you two would chat into the night while the tv played in the background. 

—you’d ask each other about your day, tell stories about gabriella, bond over shared interests, fueled debates over a quality of a certain movie, until fatigue hit either you or miguel.

—usually you were the first one to fall asleep, and he would watch you silently.

—the flickering lights from the tv would accentuate your features in the night, and he never knew he could find you even more handsome.

—your complete vulnerability was enticing. 

—you would curl into the blanket he’d given you, and miguel would take the time to count the seconds it would take for you to exhale your dreams.

—the longer it was, the deeper you were into your sleep.

—it wouldn’t be until thirty exhales more that miguel would send himself to bed.

—five seconds, miguel would find himself mimicking the pattern of your breath before he drifted off into the night.

—then there would be nights where the subject matter would be more personal, more than miguel would have liked.

—does it get lonely sometimes?

—i’d be lying if i said no. not all the time, though. i have gabriella.

—huh…

—is that why you’re a complete grump all the time?

—watch it.

—i’m kidding! good thing you have me too, right?

—yeah.

—good thing i have you too… miguel sighed heavily at the empty side of his bed, staring into the darkness until the shadows from the night had forged a shape of your body.

—he closed his eyes when he felt a whisper of your lips near his, barely ghosting over his pair, and stroke himself to the possible reality of you becoming his. 

—fuck... he then lied on his stomach and began humping into the bed, against the bed sheets, and held the imagination of your body close to his own, protecting you like his life depended on it.

—i need you… miguel pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling the memory of your shampoo as he polished his hips further into the bed. 

—his cock rubbed in between his body and the soft sheets as he’d imagine unsheathing himself in and out of you at a slow yet steady pace.

—because he needed to savor you.

—he would imagine how you’d respond with every thrust. 

—your words would glue to your throat because you’d be too overwhelmed by his size, by the pleasure that miguel would finally be delivering to you, by the doting hold around you, and with the aid of his hips, your words would like crystallized honey.

—miguel would push his cock into you deeper, taking in the sound of your voice into his with a warm kiss. — i— 

—you would draw out sounds from your throat until they were practically begs when miguel would pull out excruciatingly slow to tease, then a demand as he would doubt your confession by cautiously following the outline of your pucker with the tip of his cock.

— need—

—his hips would lift, then come down onto you like hail. hard and sudden as his cock would ram into your tight fill, knock your breath back into the tight of your throat.

— you— 

—you need him. 

—miguel could tell from the way you completed allowed him to invade your reserve until he was balls-deep inside of you. 

—from the way he’d pull out once more and your hole would memorize the shape of his cock, down to his thick girth. puckering to the recollection of his throbbing veins.

—and he’d be the one to bridge the puzzle pieces together as he would press himself forward and bend your legs back before slamming his cock back into you  with the delirious evocation of lust.

—you would stifle your moans into your forearm as the bed rocked to the strong rhythm of miguel’s thrusts, but he’d pull your arms away and hold your wrists above your head.

—he needed to hear you.

—hear how much you wanted him, how much you needed him.

— i’m going to come—

—you’d grunt in between the heavy and sticky sounds of your skin colliding against one another, into the thick air that you and miguel had mutually forged together. 

—his other hand had been wrapped around your cock, jerking the throbbing muscle to every count of his balls bouncing off your bottom. 

—he would squeeze and stroke, your pre-cum coming down in thick drips, and he would thumb at the slippery wet slip until the pad of his thumb was layered in your thick substance.

—until his fist was covered in a glorious amount of your warm cum, inking him deep with your devotion before feeding you of your own need. 

—he would bring his hand up to you and slip two fingers inside of your mouth. your tongue would slowly roll over his cum-covered digits, sucking the bittersweetness off of him.

—it wouldn’t be long until it would be miguel’s turn. 

—miguel would continue bringing the remaining fingers up to your mouth for you to cleanse him off, and it would be enough for him to have him in shambles.

—imagining you devour your own sweet lust until all five of his fingers were polished clean awakened him to another level of pure ecstasy, and miguel groaned, rocking desperately into his bed.

—your warm hands would all over his toned body, fueling the tension in his stomach as you would prioritize the center of his abdomen.

—fuck, come in me—

—miguel would his weight onto you, his large body practically devouring you in sheer size as the heat and sweat confined you to the parameters, and he’d hold you close once more by slipping his arms around you.

—a cycle of thrusts quickened every round and you held onto him. kissing at the side of his neck. suckling at the round of his shoulder. 

—i’m coming… he muttered to himself, to no one but the wrinkled sheets beneath him, and fucked his cock harder into his bed.

—and when you heard a shudder coming from the depths of miguel’s strained throat, you licked a stripe at the center of his throat to pacify him, making your way to the plush of his lips, and kissed him at the pivot of his climax.

—miguel would exhale hard against your mouth before kissing you and spilling delirious moans into the captivity when he would begin flooding your insides with his thick and warm cum. 

—heavy ropes would ricochet off your violated inside, but miguel would press into you closer, harder, and intimately so, until your foreheads were bruised into one another.

—in occurring reality, miguel painted his bed sheets in thick layers of warmth and musk. layers of cum wetting his bed as he desperately held onto his fantasies with sensitive rolls of his hips.

—his tongue would tangle into yours, practicing a slow, sensitive waltz as his softening cock would sink deep into your hole. 

—and you would moan and suckle around him as you felt every drop of cum warm you from the inside and out, shielding you from the goosebumps that would frost your skin.

—the kiss would remain its passionate dance as you both relaxed into each other. your legs unwrapped to tangle into miguel’s, expertly lifting the blanket over your feet in the process. 

—he would hold you tighter once he broke the kiss, turning you on your side as he lied flat on his back. 

—your head would rest on his chest after pulling the remaining blanket up to your bodies and you would sigh, suddenly feeling drowsier with miguel’s warm caress aiding sleep against your back.

—for the remaining moment, he would gaze at the sheen of sweat that highlighted the flush of your skin. 

—he would listen to the beat your heart, slowly coming to its resting pace as you succumb to sleep under the spell of his doting touch.

—and he would strangely feel a need to hold you, shelter you inside of his arms because he feared something would happen to you.

—fuck.

—miguel quickly rolled back onto his back in the midst of catching his breath, the shadows that had formed the image of you unfurling into obscurity. 

—he felt his heart race, bullets rebounding off the beating surface like a drum, and he placed a hand over his chest to pacify at the sudden swell of his chest. —i think i love you.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[ultimate-marysue]

Cassandra Cain is so funny to me and I think she's under utilized because people like to make the robin they like the coolest one ever and Don't know how to incorporate a character that:

Knows how to read people and fight better than Nightwing

Has died way more times than Jason and takes it better

Figured out the bats identities faster than Tim

Has a really fucked up father like Steph, literally wasn't allowed to communicate

Assassin mother, trained to kill, and struggles to talk normally with people like damian

I feel like if people stop viewing characters as a competition for who can be the poorest mew mew or the coolest baddest bitch we would get way more interesting dynamics with the Batfam. I used Cass as an example because she and Duke are the most overlooked (wonder why), but honestly you could make this list with any batkid if you wanted. The thing about having a canon in which each one has their individual series at some point but also take up big chunks of the Batman run is that they're all the main character.

I'm not yucking your yum if you just want to wax poetically about how [insert name] had it the worst or their angst is just so Chef's kiss to you. I love those fics, I'm a sucker for them even if they're out of character. If DC can't keep their characters consistent fans are allowed to make up even sadder scenarios for them. By all means, make the Drakes abusive, make Batman an even shittier father, ignore other batfam if that's what you want to write, fan spaces are for that.

I'm just saying I would also really like a fic that takes into account how different DC writers trying to make their favorite robin the coolest/saddest/most interesting one leads to all of them being a force to reckon with. I really liked How Far Love Goes by Beatrice Eagle. It actually tries to manage most of the Batfam at the same time giving them equal weight which is something not even DC tries.

I think that's it, I kinda want to acknowledge how having the Batfam together is the single most unbalanced chaotic shit that could happen. Especially considering their personal issues and how they intersect with each other and Batman. If you think about it any given character in the family has fucked over at least two of the others and has been fucked over by some of them and it's besties with the rest. DC are cowards.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

science experiment is my new favorite, dear lord it’s incredible

"We might have a problem, Alfie," Dick sing-songed as he leaned against the wall where Alfred was making sure the outdoor shenanigans that were serving as "training" today didn't get out of hand.

The butler glanced up to where Jason kept watching you, almost hovering near you. But trying to make it look like he wasn't. "So far as I'm concerned, it looks like the opposite of a problem."

"Maybe," Dick mused.

"How much did he see? Last night, I mean?"

"The aftermath," Dick sighed. "Mud, blood, tears, and snot."

"Oh dear," he tutted. "Master Bruce told me that he found Jason tending to the wounds on her hands and feet this morning. And that he seemed... almost like his old self."

Dick nodded to where you'd made your way over to Cass, the newest addition and offered to be on her "team". Cass wasn't a big talker- she could hardly speak at all- but. Thanks to your empathic quirk, neither of you really needed to talk to team up. And it hadn't taken Cass long to figure that out. OR to figure out that you were physically not very durable. Still. The smiles and the fist bump said it all. "Do we have extra hydration packs on hand?" he asked.

"Always," Alfred said. Reasonably, no one expected you to participate. And no one pulled punches when you did. But- watching you laugh with the other girls when Dick jogged over to even it up properly... well. Maybe, you could get a couple nights of decent sleep.

Bruce strode out onto the lawn and dropped into a chair with a grunt. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Swimmingly," Alfred said, pouring cold drinks and making sure that yours had the specific blend of things that had been prescribed to you in your bottle. "Miss Y/N and Miss Cassandra have been working out some things they can utilize in the field and the others have been enjoying creating chaos to facilitate that."

"Hn."

"And Jason has been hovering like a mother hen," Alfred chuckled.

"So much for not having a crush," Bruce hummed. "How is Y/N holding up?"

"Tiring out, I think. But they've been doing what they can to keep her from having to over-exert herself- after all. It's not like we need to know what the upper limits are."

"Fair-" But before he can finish asking for specifics, you waver on your feet halfway through a strategy you'd been working out with Cass. But before you crumple, Jason is right behind you. Picking you up against his chest.

His face burning as he murmured something against your flustered protests. You radiated flustered embarrassment. And he deposited you in a chair carefully. "It probably would have worked," he muttered, "Dick and Steph talk too much."

You nod and accept the proffered water bottle awkwardly and take a drink, "Thanks."

"What were you trying to do?" Bruce asked? He hadn't SEEN Cass, but that didn't mean anything.

"Lead her into the best position for a sneak attack using my location with emotional resonance... since I can make the people feel things we were playing hot and cold. So I was picking up on where she was and kinda leading her to where she needed to be as we were wandering around."

"Hn." Bruce nodded. Considering that. He'd THOUGHT about using that as a strategy before. You did possess the ability to hone in on people you knew well-

"You okay?" Jason asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Fine," you murmur, rolling your water bottle between your hands and looking down. Taking a few deep breaths to shove all your emotions back under control as the others lope back up from the grass for drinks and snacks. Cass sat on the arm of your chair and thudded her head gently on your shoulder. Smiling a little when you lean your head on hers.

Bruce watches the little exchange with bemusement and nods to himself. It made sense. Cass had few words and you could make yourself understood without it. But0 he did wonder, as he watched Jason watch it all happen, how he felt about it.

[nightly-valkyrie]

I feel like bioresonance, as it's shown in Signalis, is pretty interesting.

Despite how little is known about it in universe, the player actually does get told quite a lot when compared to some other vague concepts of key importance (The Empress, The Great Revolutionary, etc...). But the player isn't just told about it, they're also shown alot of cases in which it is used, be it subtly or rather overtly. Some of it requires reading between the lines, but others, the game just kinda just says: "Yeah that's because of bioresonance".

I am curious as to how other people interpret this power, especially because I feel like at first they kind of present it as a nebulous stand in for what a lot of other sci-fi series have in terms of mysterious mind power. Like, Star Wars has the force, the cyberpunk genre tends to dabble in telepathy or other similar powers, Warhammer 40k has its psykers, Locked Tomb series with Necromancy, etc... Where bioresonance feels like it differs from these other powers, though, is in the scale. When cataloging all the things bioresonance has been used for, and is implied to be useful for, it manifests less as a little-understood power that's use spans from telepathy and telekinesis, to enabling Replika creation. Rather it comes off more and more as literal god powers, or more specifically the power to create reality. Spoilers under the cut:

One of the earliest uses of the power that also comes across as it's most obvious use is as essentially mind reading or telepathy.

It's used by the Kolibris as a form of peacekeeping, rooting out dissenting thought, or detecting trouble before it reveals itself. We know that they can use it to communicate with others but is especially useful within the cadre. Through these units we also learn it can be used to create illusions, that it can be used to directly harm people, and that in universe it probably functions on a wavelength in some way as it's affected by the radio. A document on the Kolibris calls them the most bioresonantly capable Replika to be created, and while I don't necessarily doubt that's the case I don't think it's as straight forward as they are "the best" at bioresonance. This is because the of the Falkes. It's worth mentioning that these units as of the events of the game are still considered "prototypes" so it may mean they aren't being considered in what units are most bioresonantly capable, and upon their release would then take on that title from the Kolibris, but for the sake of argument I want to continue as if they are included in the comparison of capability.

According to Yuri Stern, Kolibris are incapable of telekinesis, a power that Falke on the other hand is clearly able to use. But on top of that Falke also appears to have the power to manifest both her spears and her halo at will. Prior to her awakening neither is anywhere to be found, and she also manifests the shields later. This contrasts the Kolibris who are only able to create illusions. (Falke likely can also create illusions, and communicate telepathically through her switching between appearing corrupted and normal, and also her calling corrupted Aras mid-fight, but we also see the Mynah do the same so there's not much proof in that. So if she can it's to a lesser degree). With that in mind it's very possible that Falke isn't so much better at bioresonance than the Kolibris, but rather is a savant in a different field of the power all together, possibly even multiple or all. And where the Kolibris are far more capable of utilizing the full range of power their field of bioresonance they command, Falke only scratches the surface of her own. Hers being the direct creation and manipulation of reality, hence why she is called a regarded as a god. Other feats Falke can be seen doing range from, using blasts of the power, which seem to take the form of orbs of space which appear manipulated in a way that looks similar to gravitational lensing (gravity will come up again later).

I've also seen it implied that the arena changes which occur during her fight are also an expression of her power to shape reality around her. This idea of her power being widely encompassing of the spectrum of bioresonance, but to a lesser degree is furthered by comparing her then to Ariane. She appears to have a far more vast command of the power if it is to be believed she is the reason for the cycle repeating ad infinitum. She even seems to trump the Kolibri's command as her power is attributed to have been the reason Elster's (And her own) memories were placed in Falke's mind. This is likely also the reason that the LSTR-S2301 was never commissioned as the power somehow rewound time (while also implanting the unit with the LSTR-512 memories and remaking her every time she dies in the facility... Sierpinski Elster stuff is weird, she could be a whole post on her own :/). A book found in the Itou bookstore also says that the power has been used to klimaform planets, and even create artificial gravity. In another place its stated that bioresonance is essential to Replika creation and without it the process is likely impossible. While the first two are vague in how the power is used, it is interesting that the power is essential for creating Replikas, as it means that its power of creation isn't limited to non-living things as Replikas are alive, and bioresonance is essential to make them that way. All of this together paints a rather clear picture that the scope of possible applications of bioresonance isn't only unknown in universe, but even speculatively it appears to have no limit at all. A sufficiently skilled bioresonant adept may be unstoppable with a free ticket to change reality however and whenever they like. The only limiting factor being, first their rarity, and two their supposed loyalties. We know these individuals are rare as there is special exception made to their discovery, and even rarer is their ability to use the power.

We know that their supposed loyalties may be a issue as the Nation very likely kills any with the power they don't think that can have perfect control over. As any who can command the power well and decides they don't want to bow to either the Nation or the Empire could very well become a problem for both. Therefore it makes sense why we are told they are arrested even if suspected of being able to control the power

Julia is probably dead btw, not mentioned, but we know somebody with the same last name was trespassing and died in interrogation.

Its possible that those allowed to live are given markings denoting their status, the forehead is clearly visible and would allow them to be kept track of. Something that feels rather fitting, considering the inspiration behind the game.

ANYWAY, that's the post. I definitely got a bit rambly, and probably forgot stuff. I may just add them in edits or by reblogging my own post but I hope this was interesting. It's no surprise that this is a sort of god power, with all the talk of god-like beings and individuals becoming gods, but to see/explore the actual extent of this truth is pretty interesting regardless!

[terrestrialnoob]

Time and Information

She was walked through the halls of Bel Rev Prison by four guards down an unfamiliar passage. She was soon joined by a younger woman with blonde pigtails who was happily chatting to her escort until she saw her fellow prisoner.

“Oh my gosh! A new face!” She cheered in a heavy Brooklyn accent, “Better be careful or it’ll get blown to bits!”

The two were taken into separate rooms and there was a sudden jolt of horror at the chair in the center of the room. It looked far too familiar, straps and gaps for easy access to specific parts of the body – the soft, weak parts. It was similar to something she’d once made when she was younger, dumber, and too scared of the unknown – no, too scared of being wrong about the unknown to see what was right in front of her. She struggled against the guards, but one punched her in the gut and she was forcefully strapped down into the chair. She was warned not to move before there was a sharp pain at the back of her neck. She sat frozen as something was forced under her skin, she could feel it anchoring into bone. After that, she was unstrapped and furiously asked what they’d done to her. “They’ll explain it soon enough.”

She was lead out of the surgical room and into a large concrete room, with 2 metal crates. She spotted the girl from earlier standing next to one of the crates. She looked up at her from pulling on a red and black diamond patterned leotard over fishnet leggings. The girl waved and shouted, “You made it!”

She waved back to the blonde then one of the guards lead her to the other crate and opened it. Her eyes stared to tear at the sight of her old aqua jumpsuit. There were also her goggles, utility belt, respirator mask, and a handful of non-compacted weapons.

She followed the implicit instruction to change into her jumpsuit, and it felt like putting on her real skin on again. It had been so long, she was starting to see silver in her auburn hair that had grown so long her braid went all the way down to her back. But the suit fit, just like it always did.

“Awooga!” The girl cheered and shouted, “I’m not usually a MILF kinda gal, but you look tight.”

She almost laughed at getting catcalled by the other woman and even flexed her arm to show off her prison muscle. The two were soon lead to a new room and she saw three other non-guards in the room, all in their own colorful costume. A large man had on a bear-skin cloak over body armor while another seemed to be dressed up like an airline pilot. A humanoid tiger creature was also there, they were already wearing a sleeveless Chinese-style martial arts uniform.

“Boomer!” The girl shouted and waved at the airline pilot and he smiled and greeted her in turn.

“It’s good to see you Harley,” He said with an Australian accent, “who’s your friend?”

Before she could answer, a door slammed open. A woman entered; thick and sturdy who held herself like a pillar of The Acropolis, like if she fell, the whole of civilization would fall with her. At her side was a man dressed up in his own custom red, silver, and black body armor.

The woman stopped and glared at the prisoners like they were less than human and took time to memorize all their inhumanity before she spoke, “Ladies, gentlemen. For those who don’t know, I am Amanda Waller, head of Task Force X, an off the books strike team of convicts used as expendable agents working for the U.S. Government. You are now members of Task Force X. Succeed in your mission, and you’ll get time off your sentences. Any questions?”

“A few, ma’am,” She rose her hand.

Waller raised her eyebrow and nodded, but before she could ask, the man in the bear skin shouted, “The Bear fight for Mother Russia, not U.S. Pigs!” His accent was thick and he stomped his heavy boots up to Waller, towering over her in an attempt to intimidate. “I will not work for you.”

Waller glared up at him and waved at the door behind her, “Be warned, there’s a small explosive in your neck, and if you do any little thing I don’t like, your head will be blown clean off. Take one step out that door, and you’re dead.”

The Russian growled at her, then pushed past her. He took one confident step through the door - the explosion was bright but quiet, and eviscerated the man’s head in seconds.

Waller turned back to the others, “Did that answer any of your questions?”

“A few yes,” She smiled and gently rubbed her neck where the small lump was indicating which of her questions had been answered. Then she continued, much to the horror of the Australian. “Are the terms of this – arrangement negotiable?”

Waller answered before she even finished, “You can’t refuse.”

She nodded her head, “I assumed as much. But, there’s something I want more than time off my sentence.”

“Oh?” Waller gave her a scrutinizing look, the kind that a woman who’s always looking for a better deal has.

“It’s about my son. Last I saw him, he was being experimented on in a government lab. The thing I want is unredacted copies of the files. I want to know Every. Single. Thing. any research lab anywhere has ever done to my son. And his current location.” Her voice shifted from relatively polite to absolutely deadly; almost like she now blamed everything the government has ever done wrong on Waller as a representative. The man next to Waller seemed to flinch, but the two women didn’t break eye contact.

“Might be difficult, given that most of the facilities that would have that information were destroyed. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” Waller stared her down, or at least tried to. There was silence, and for a moment several people in the room expected a head to explode. But then Waller said, “Do the mission, and I’ll see what I can get from the guys in white.”

The woman who stood up to The Acropolis smiled dangerously as she said, “I’m sure a woman of your standing and reach can get her hands into any government office.”

Waller smiled back, “You flatter me, Ms. Fenton.”

“Doctor Fenton,” She corrected, “One doesn’t lose their education simply because they’re imprisoned.”

[hiddencityhijinksau]

I'm totally gonna create art for this - already have - but in the meantime I should probably explain this concept lol.

So basically, in one way or another, the turtles each stumble upon the Hidden City at around age 8 to 10, and decide to keep it a secret from their bros >:3

Leo is the first one, technically, when he goes out to explore NYC when he's eight, and discovers Run of the Mill Pizza, because I'm obsessed with the Uncle Hueso idea, but he doesn't go to the actual city until much later, though he knows of it's existence.

I actually kinda started writing this starting bit? It's totally unedited and missing bits but whatever, I'll include it under the cut.

Leo peered up at the manhole cover from the bottom of the ladder, imagining what he would see if he climbed up and lifted it. The young turtle mutant didn't get long to think about it, hearing his brothers call for him.

"I'm coming!" The 8 year old ran to catch up with his family, sending one last considering look at the rungs of the ladder.

Later that night, after his brothers were asleep and his father was dozing in front of the TV, the red-eared slider crept out of bed, utilizing all the stealth skills he'd learned from the lessons Splinter thought he hadn't been paying attention to. Once safely out of the Lair, Leo practically sprinted down the route to the manhole cover he'd spotted earlier. There were entrances closer to the Lair, of course, but this way, if he got caught sneaking back in he could say he was just wandering around the sewers.

Reaching the top of the ladder, the slider paused for a moment, savoring the adrenaline of what he was about to do. Splinter never even let them explore the sewers without him, nevermind letting Leo venture out on his own. And now he was about to go Topside!

Shoving at the metal disc with all his strength, Leo cautiously poked his head out, eyes wide to take it all in. Of course, this wasn't his first time on the surface – Splinter had taken all the boys with him once or twice for scavenging trips, especially when they were younger. But now, Leo was here on his own! This was so exciting!!

The slider climbed out of the manhole, tugging the cover almost back into place, but leaving a small gap so he could get in later, as he wasn't sure how to lift it from the top side.

Bouncing in place, Leo looked around the alley he'd surfaced in with a wide grin, wondering what he might find.

Hmm. There wasn't much in this alleyway. In fact, it was pretty much empty. Nothing but a few scraps of cardboard and a colourful graffiti tag decorated the concrete.

Well, Leo didn't come here just to hang out in one measly alleyway! Full of confidence, the eight-year-old marched to the end of the alley, pulling up the hood of his sweater as he rounded the corner.

Even with the late hour, there were still people on the streets, eyes focused on getting to their destination. No one paid attention to the small figure in a battered green hoodie hurrying along, sticking close to the wall.

Leo ducked into the next alley, heart pounding. Okay, so that was a lot more nerve-wracking without Dad or Raph than he'd thought it would be.

Luckily, he realized as he took in his surroundings, this alleyway was much more interesting than the one he'd come out of. There was a huge dumpster on one side, and the walls were covered in graffiti. Even better, the far end of the alley was actually a corner, meaning there was more to explore!

Leo started poking around, kicking at the small piles of trash and inspecting the locked dumpster. Not finding anything cool, he moved on, admiring the graffiti.

He ended up turning two more corners while following the trail of graffiti, and found himself facing the street again. The constant something of spray paint broke off at the corner, meaning the skull painting in this alley stood out sharply.

Bla blah blah some yokai open the door to run of the Mill while Leo watches from behind a dumpster or smth

Leo's eyes sparkled. Was that actual magic?! Donnie said magic was impossible, but Donnie also said it was impossible for the two of them to be twins, and Leo knew that wasn't true. The turtle bounced forward with glee, eager to see where those people had gone, only to stop short when the portal closed in his face.

Leo frowned. Clearly, he just hadn't been fast enough. Wait, what was that gesture they used to open it? Leo lifted his hand, trying to mimic the pose he'd seen, and wiggled it with great concentration.

Nothing happened.

Huffing, the boy tried again. And again. And was glaring at the wall, ready to shout at it to let him in, when he heard someone approaching the alleyway. Eyes lighting up with an idea, Leo darted behind the nearest dumpster and peeked out, watching carefully.

Sure enough, another mutant-like person entered the alley, heading for the graffiti tag. Leo stared hard at the gesture they made, but instead of waiting and trying to copy it, he darted in behind them as soon as the portal opened.

As soon as he was inside, Leo stopped. And stared.

There were so many people! And none of them were human.

"This is the coolest place I've ever seen," Leo whispered to himself in awe. He slowly started walking further in, craning his neck to stare at every little detail.

So entranced was he, that he didn't see the bony figure approaching until he nearly face-planted into their suit.

"Where are your parents, little pepino?"

Leo froze and looked up at the sound of the voice. Towering over him, arms crossed, was a frowning... skeleton?!

Instantly forgetting to feel guilty at being caught, Leo blurted out, "are you dead?!" His eyes were wider than they'd been all evening, he was sure. Because, come on, that was a walking, talking, skeleton man!!!

The aforementioned skeleton man, somehow, raised an eyebrow. "No, I am not dead. Have you never seen a skeleton yokai before?"

"No," Leo responded, eyes still wide. "What's a yokai?"

"Que pasa con este niño," the yokai muttered under his breath, then continued in a normal tone, "Yokai is what we are. You, me, and everyone in this restaurant is a yokai."

"Oh. Hey, what was that language you were talking in?"

The yokai looked at him weirdly, but Leo really did want to know! He'd only said one sentence but it sounded so cool! Leo already knew he wanted to learn it.

"Spanish. Why are you here, niño?"

"Uhhhhhh... Dad... sent me?" Leo cringed a little at the blatant lie, and decided to distract him with another question. "Can you say something in Spanish?!"

The yokai sighed. "Tell me your name and I'll consider it."

He beamed. "I'm Leo! What's your name?"

"You can call me Señor Hueso."

"Whoa, is your name in Spanish?! Wait wait wait you gotta say something in Spanish now! I told you my name!"

"Deberías estar en le cama, tortuguita."

"Coooool! What does that mean?"

"It means 'you should be in bed, little turtle'. Let's go, out, time for you to go home." Hueso began pushing at Leo's shoulders, nudging him towards the door.

"Whaaaat? Come on, you can't kick me out! I just got here!" Leo dug his heels in, refusing to be pushed.

"This is a restaurant, not a daycare. I do not have time to be babysitting lost children. Out!" With one final shove, Señor Hueso let go of Leo and prepared to shut the portal.

The turtle mutant stumbled and whirled around as soon he was free. "Wait! You're just gonna let a child wander around New York alone? At night? Isn't that illegal?"

"Well, since you won't tell me where your parents are..." Hueso trailed off with a raise of his eyebrow, waiting to see if Leo would offer any more information.

Leo huffed in defeat. He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting tired, as it was already far past his usual bedtime. "Fine, fine, I'm going! But I'll be back tomorrow!"

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

Leo did in fact come back the next day. Hueso wasn't there when Leo scampered in behind a weird frog yokai, so the slider was quick to scurry off into the restaurant, hoping he could hang out for a little while before Hueso found him and kicked him out again.

To be continued...?

[blond-jerk-tourney]

Champagne Bracket: Round 2, Poll 7

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Vil Shoenheit

He's snobby, a drama queen, kinda mean, expects perfection from everyone and yee :3

Where do I even start??? He's literally if the evil queen from snow white was a bitchy influencer. So like if patrick bateman was an influencer. so like one of those beauty influencers that were in drama but the crime this time was murder. He's vain as fuck and kind of the worst. Has trauma but idk what it is cause I'm not far enough in yet. tried to kill someone probably. amazing at chemistry and making poisons to kill people with.

link to image of quote

Eichi Tenshouin

He is literally the centerpiece of The War in ensemble stars. He more or less rose to student council president position, gutted their entire school and instilled lots of new rules and stuff. He made 5 students public figures, then promptly dragged them through the mud. He gained intel from people close to them and utilized their weaknesses against them to execute them. They all ended up getting severely bullied. He's treated many friendships as transactional relationships. He sabotaged numerous idol units, putting one out of commission for months. All in all, it was brutal. He almost succeeded in shutting down an entire revolution a year later. On another note he is just. a cheeky little guy. Sassy man apocalypse

link to image of quote

both submitters invite you to read this explanation of "the war"

[arthurmorgan-vp]

Hi there!! I was just looking through your awesome screenshots and I was really impressed with how crisp and beautiful the characters look. Whenever I try to take nice screenshots of Arthur, he kinda looks like a hobo :[ I would love to get better at taking screenshots of this game because I love it soooo much, Do you have any tips & trips & mod recommendations for taking nice screenshots? Thank you <3

Hi, thank you for the question! To start, I've actually been planning a thing where I discuss this in a video a bit, but that's going to take some time so here are my easy ones: -FOV (zoom in on the camera, it helps so much) -work with the blur feature. I'm pretty sure you're on pc too bc you mention mods, but for anyone reading, I think all of them have this option. It makes the edges of his face a little less blurry. -lighting! Find a lamp, find a campfire, anything, and mess around with how you position arthur. Certain places/lighting can make or break a shot imo. I actually have a post that shows that a bit and I'll link it in a comment under this post. Even in daytime consider this. -take note of the background. Sometimes, having too much clutter back there can distract from our pretty arthur so I'd look out for that. -as for mods, I use the WhyEM and Eastern Epic outfits/hair. I also have the free camera, but only use that for far away pics and for my videos. -Utilize animations! Have Arthur stand still and then have him turn around. Sometime during that press the cam option; he might be making a decent expression that can turn into a beautiful pic. Many other actions can give a decent result like that too. Anyone with anymore questions is free to ask! I might not know but I love helping where I can.

[ebisul]

Clone Martial Arts HCs!!!

Now that the poll has ended and I’ve done my own further research I wanted to share my headcannons for what Martial Arts I think Commander Cody and by extension the other Clones prefer. Keep in mind Im not an expert by any means so if this shits inaccurate thats my b

Now, The clones as a whole I think would be trained in as many martial arts as possible due to the obvious reasons.

Cody

For my beloved Commander Cody, I genuinely believe, while he utilizes many techniques from different disciplines and also makes shit up as he goes bc he truly is a feral overachiever, in my heart and soul i think Cody favors Muay Thai for personal use.

I know the poll said Taekwondo, however, while i think he has trained in it, he’s way more punchy than we give him credit for and i think he would prefer a more versatile art. While Taekwondo does have a focus on kicks and punches(depending on the ruleset apparently), Muay Thai utilizes punches, kicks, elbows, knees, and more. Muay Thai is also more effective in self defense due to the range being closer in comparison to TKD

I also think clinching, throws, and sweeps are all things Cody would utilize in his preferred art

I’ve always headcanoned Cody as boxing in his freetime for a while now and Muay Thai is just the specific form of boxing ive decided, followed closely by kickboxing.

Im also a sucker for any fic where Jango trains Cody personally so by extension I think Jango also prefers Muay Thai and Cody hangs onto that.

Rex

From here forward I didn’t plan on involving any more of the clones so be warned. I do think Cody is one of the only clones where his hobby is specifically training in a martial art but the rest probably have their favs too.

For Rex, I think japanese Jiu Jitsu is his style being designed for samurai and the battlefield. The specification is important to me. He’s tired of fighting all the time so its purely out of practicality and doesnt really pick up a martial art the way Cody does to blow off steam.

Rex is also a little unhinged, due to working under Anakin and Ahsoka of all people, so i do think he has some unconventionality to his fighting the same as Cody.

Wolffe

Wolffe strikes me as a Krav Maga guy. Thats just his vibe i guess. I think he would have picked it up after his encounter with Ventress becasue of its efficiency for self defense, practically, and because of the weapons defense.

Does this translate well to lightsabers? Idk does any of this translate to star wars? Theyre usually fighting droids so i dont really care. None of these actually exist in a Galaxy Far Far Away.

Fox

Fox I decided was Jeet Kune Do guy. JKD was conceived by Bruce Lee to be simple and direct and free which speaks very Fox to me, yknow?

Its all about intercepting the opponents attacks, responding or countering incoming attacks, and conserving movement and energy. Its a practical self defense technique and the principles are designed to help practitioners to make snap decisions, among other things. It all just screams Fox imo

Bly

Bly is into Hapkido. Specifically the deflecting attacks and using that against the opponent for joint locks and takedowns while also being more aggressive in comparison to Aikido. Im a big fan of fighting styles that use the opponents against themselves and i get the vibe that Bly is the kinda fighter who would favor that in a martial art.

I do think Bly also dabbles in Aikido as well. He definitely shows off to Aayla.

Ponds

Ponds is a hard one but im slapping TKD on him. Is it practical for war? Not really. I think the emphasis on the self discipline, respect, and mentality would make him a great pair to Mace Windu tho. I think he practices for the mental level of it all rather than the physical.

This got longer than i intended it to get but ive spent the past few hours on this. Mostly researching. If you want me to do more of these let me know!

[stu-dyingstudent]

Am I the only one that feels Himawari's power makes no sense?

Ok, so I've been (casually) reading the new Boruto chapters and I honestly hate the way the story is going. I just feel like the power jump in the characters during the time skip is too much. Specifically, Himawari's new powers kinda rub me the wrong way.

I know that it was sort of alluded to when Daemon mentioned something about her chakra being weird or whatever (I can't remember the exact exchange), but this just isn't enough for me. Before the time skip she had almost no ninja training except for some basic Hyuga katas. It makes sense that she would want to take her training more seriously with the dissolution of her family, but I think they made her too strong. We know she has been training with the new ino-shika-cho and is most likely living with the Hyuga clan now. However, when has the new gen ino-shika-cho ever proven themselves to be anything better than average? Even in the new chapters they did practically nothing, which makes sense considering their opponents. It would also make sense for her to be training under Hiashi and Hanabi now too, but we didn't see her utilize ANY Hyuga technique in the recent fights. Then, out of nowhere, she's suddenly able to tap into Kurama's power and apparently she's the "purest" jinchuriki out there or whatever and even goes as far as to use the bijuu bomb (???). The same power that is supposed to be one of the hardest things for a jinchuriki to achieve.

I know that the new generation is always going to be stronger than the old one, but there is no struggle. We see barely any of their training, they are all prodigies. There almost seems as if there are no limits to their abilities and it's frustrating. There is no character development and no build up to back up these advances.

Even Boruto, who is now insanely powerful and skilled, seems a bit too much for my taste. Sasuke tells Boruto that he's "taught [him] almost all" he knows. And this is within one year. I recognize that this is supposed to showcase how great Boruto is, but I can't help but find this as just straight up disrespectful to Sasuke's character. He is supposed to be one of the strongest shinobi of ALL TIME and Boruto comes in and is almost up to par with him after just a year.

Also, why are the jonin doing LITERALLY NOTHING????? Even the outfits, although drippy, are just entirely impractical for being a ninja. Ahhhhh maybe I'll make another post to continue my rant because every time I pick up Boruto again (because apparently I just "have to give it a chance"), I find myself annoyed.

[the-sky-queen]

Waiter!!! Waiter!!!! More phantom rider mind control au please!!!!!

Also do you plan on making a fic out of this? I would love to read it!

Patience young padawan! XD Alright here's a thought I've had today:

So while scrolling through Phantom Rider stuff the other day, I came across a post proposing a scenario where Surge and Phantom Rider get to know each other and become close, with Surge not realizing he's Sonic. I'm thinking I could do something similar in my AU!

But first, I wanna clarify how the mind control actually works here. The devices on the sides of Sonic's head are kinda shutting down his free will and making Eggman the dominant voice in his head. He comes to see Eggman as the ultimate authority and will follow all of his orders without question. Sonic's personality also gets overruled, leading to a very blank slate, no nonsense, focused hedgehog. The way this works, Sonic as Phantom Rider still has a degree of autonomy where he can do things on his own, but is ultimately dictated by Eggman's desires. (That said, there is also a setting on the devices that puts Phantom 100% under Eggman's control. No thoughts. Head empty. He does ONLY what he's commanded to do. But Eggman hasn't utilized this setting yet. The current setting has been enough so far.)

So! With that said, let's talk about Surge. :) I'm not sure yet how this will come to be, but I'm thinking that Surge ends up tracking Phantom down outside of a race. There's a little confrontation and Surge tries to unmask Phantom. This fails. Overall, it's a lot less tense than you would think. Newly mind controlled, Phantom isn't feeding Surge's fire with snarky remarks like he normally would. Surge's tactic switches from trying to fight him to trying to get ANY kind of reaction out of him. In her mind, he's being so guarded for a reason. If she can get him to react to what she says, or talk about himself even just a little bit, she might be able to make some progress. Maybe use context clues to figure out who he really is.

I'm thinking that Surge keeps tracking him down (an impressive feat when you realize that no one else has been able to) and talking to him. They hang out. Surge decides to try a 'hero tactic' and tries to befriend Phantom. If he trusts her, it'll be easier to expose him. She's got her work cut out for her though!

That was a long answer. XD Anyway, your second question! I'm thinking yeah, I'd love to make a fic out of this! All the enthusiasm for this AU is making me really excited to work on it. I make no promises for when it'll happen though. I've got SO MANY different AUs that I'm working on, but I'll give you a firm at some point. XD At the end of the day, it all depends on my motivation. But don't worry, it'll happen! . . . eventually. Don't be afraid to keep asking questions! It really motivates me to continue developing things.

[isawken]

clown eggs!

everyone loves ‘em. most notably, i, some random dumbass, have one. but where do they come from? if you say the clowns lay the eggs i'll fucking cut you this is a history lesson. be serious about clowns for once in your life

clowns international is the oldest operating clown organization. it was founded by a dude named Stan Bult allll the way back in the 1940s. this man was not a clown. he was a chemist. i wish i knew more about him but it's been impossible to get anything more than blurbs, all relating to eggs. i don’t even know what sort of chemistry he did! but he grew up with and liked clowns a lot. so he got an organization together- originally called the International Circus Clowns Club. one thing about our boy Stan is he had an almost cartoonishly-niche hobby: he liked painting hollowed out chicken eggs with the faces of some of the great clowns that preceded his clownpatriots. see some of the below Bult originals:

it didn’t take long for his practice to become enmeshed with the organization. like seriously what self-respecting clown wouldn’t appreciate the absurdity of such a practice. Stan started painting the faces of the org’s contemporary members, both for their own enjoyment and to keep a record of their membership far more interesting than a bunch of dusty ol files. over the next few decades and up until his death in 1966, my man Stan painted over 450 eggs! boy, my cloaca’s sore just thinking about it!

the egg-painting practice died with him. but it wouldn’t stay dead. 20 years after his death the organization, now called Clowns International, was under new management, and they knew the importance of the history they had. they hired a new egg-specific artist and offered (now ceramic) painted eggs to all of their members, for a small fee along with their standard membership fee. for a slightly more expensive fee you can get two eggs- one for the registry, and one to keep in your home for all to see and be very confused by, depending on how much your visitors know about your personal life.

now, i’ve seen some very dramatic statements made about the registry. and i would like to dispel them. no, the organization does not litigate their eggs. there is no Clown Lawyer who keeps tabs on every existing egg and every incoming egg and mediates disputes about suspiciously similar-looking face paint between clowns. you won’t get Clown Sued if your submitted face looks kinda like another’s. the record has only ever been utilized as just that, a record, so if any sort of interpersonal dispute between clowns arose they could rely on their egg’s existence/history to defend themselves against accusations of theft, or vice versa. sorry to disappoint you freaks out there who want clowns to be jerks but it’s just not like that.

clowns international is not the only organization that does an egg registry, but it is the org that started it all, so theirs often come with a level of provenance. and for those of you who have followed me for a while you know what time it is, yeah that’s right, it’s time to PLUG MY OWN EGG AGAIN YEAH THAT’S RIGHT LOOK AT MY EGG

i promise i'll take new pictures of it soon

if you don’t know me and for some reason want to know more about me and my dearest egg i’ve got two posts about it. honestly extremely humble of me considering how up my own ass i am about this life achievement of mine

anyways, even with the societal downswing vis a vis the overarching cultural opinion on clowns, the organization is still going, and still making eggs. and i for one hope the practice never dies out, and that more specific organizations adopt similar practices. like can you imagine a woodworking guild that makes little wooden statuettes of all their members? the clowns are tastemakers and it's time we realize that.

and that’s the short of Clown Egg History! clown’s don’t lay eggs they are humans and they have very human history that is so so interesting and worth spreading and if i see anyone tag this as clown husbandry i cannot stress enough i will go scorched earth on your ass! if you have any questions on this or other clown-related stuff my inbox is always open and i love to spread the good word of Clown. also i’m sorry but i have a podcast to plug:

fully-clown-centric episodes are in the works and i am planning to have them release before the end of the year but until then please check out what i do have if ur interested in fool-related history! i don’t make any money off this i just really want to share the knowledge about fools across history i have learned because i’m insane and care a great deal about it :o)

[venus-haze]

Bad Obsession (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: Summer semester comes and goes without much consequence, or so you think, having inadvertently captured the attention of your classmate-turned-stalker, Mickey Altieri.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I had so much fun writing this even though it’s foul as hell, so I kinda left it open to a follow-up. Please look at the warnings before deciding if you want to read this. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Yandere behavior including voyeurism, stalking, blackmail, manipulation, filming without consent. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion (extremely dubious consent), masturbation, phone sex, degradation, choking, some elements of sadomasochism. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The summer semester was always sleepy at Windsor College. Only a few hundred students stuck around for the limited summer course offerings, usually people who wanted to stay in town and utilize campus housing or to catch up on course credits to graduate on time. While Mickey was the former, you were the latter. 

Taking Statistics 1101 during the summer was essentially signing up for hell, a full semester’s worth of material packed into the 8-week session. Mickey figured he’d pass with a B or C, at least. By the third class, wherein you’d established yourself in the next seat over from him, it was clear you weren’t as confident. The two of you didn’t talk much. You were far too absorbed in trying to understand the material to hold a conversation with him for long. Maybe that was a mistake, because it just gave him more of a chance to watch you.

Sure, the way you’d bring your pencil to your lips while you were thinking caught his attention, but sometimes, when you were especially lost on one of the problems you worked on in class, you’d whimper or groan softly. Every time you did, he couldn’t help but glance over at you. On the few occasions you caught him looking over, you always mouthed a silent apology, assuming your expression of frustration had bothered him. 

Instead, you’d inadvertently wormed your way into the darkest recesses of his mind, almost exclusively occupied by his plotting and fantasizing about the killings he’d commit upon the upcoming preview of Stab. He had it all planned out perfectly, and with his friends back home for the summer, the Stab premiere a few weeks away, and no further word from his accomplice, a side project could do him some good.

He didn’t get close to you, not bothering to attempt to become your friend or acquaintance during the short semester. Having to keep up appearances with his existing friend group was exhausting already between pretending to care about everyone’s problems and keeping up with their banal drama. It drove him crazy. He was restless for some action.

So, he remained the guy from your Stats class as far as you were concerned. Meanwhile, he had gone to the library to look up your student profile and followed you back to your dorm at the end of the day. A wicked grin threatened to spread across his face at the revelation that you not only lived in the same residence hall, but also right next door to him. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed before, but he supposed he didn’t have any reason to. It was almost laughably easy from there to memorize your habits and schedule so he could sneak into your room as he pleased. Besides your shared Stats class, you were taking another general education course and worked part-time at a consignment shop in town. Plenty of opportunity for him to sneak around.

On his first visit to your room, he took his time, inspecting your choice of decor and rifling through your belongings. There was no need to familiarize himself with the layout since it was the same as his. Two beds, two closets, two desks—either side of the room a perfect mirror of the other. You’d claimed the side that was next to the window rather than the door. Perfect for a peeping tom, except that was far too tame to describe Mickey and his intentions. Besides, you were smart, closing your blinds whenever you changed. 

The posters on your wall screamed your taste in music at him, all pretty much what he expected except for a few outliers. You owned a small bookshelf which mostly held books for your classes and a few for personal reading, along with some CDs, knick-knacks, and framed photos. A TV and a VCR sat on top of the bookshelf, though he didn’t see any video tapes among your belongings.

Your desk was nothing short of a goldmine. Notes and pencils littered the top of it, and the wall behind it was plastered in post-its and reminders you’d taped up. He found your schedule for the upcoming fall semester in one of the drawers, complete with your own personal notes about student clubs that you’d be busy with outside of class hours. Folding the paper small enough to fit in his pocket, he resolved to take a closer look at it later.

Sometimes he’d take things. Most of the time you didn’t notice, but it sent a bit of a rush through him when you did. He'd watch your brow furrow in confusion as you searched your backpack or closet. He imagined you probably figured you had left your pencil behind in a classroom or a pair of panties in the laundry room. Other times he’d leave things–specifically his camera. After some trial and error, he found the best angle to hide it and record you, concealing it among the books and clutter on your desk.

His first few recordings of you were busts, either out of focus or in an awkward position to where he couldn’t see you, but he figured there was no harm in keeping them for posterity. With his ideal set up figured out, he’d break into your room twice a week while you were out and would either retrieve or leave the camera.

Stalking you became ritualistic, an almost meditative experience with so few moving parts to worry about, no fake best buddy persona to keep up. As he’d watch back the recordings of you studying, talking on the phone, and on occasion talking to yourself, he’d become wrapped up in elaborate and sadistic fantasies. In most of them, he utilized Ghostface to terrorize you, cornering you with a knife to your throat and threatening to slit it if you made a sound. Of course, because you’re you, you’d inevitably let out a moan or whimper in frustration, and usually his mind would run wild from there. 

Once in a while, he’d get really lucky and catch you getting yourself off with the lights on. He nearly came in his pants the first time he watched you wrap your own hand around your throat as you rubbed your clit. The sight nearly made him lose control and storm into your room then and there. He covertly made copies of those in the campus media lab, figuring they’d come in handy. 

The summer semester came to an end, and you looked more than relieved to hand in your final exam and kiss Stats goodbye. He was almost disappointed the game was ending so soon. He would be busier than ever with the Stab premiere coming up, two years of planning finally coming to fruition as he and his predecessor’s mom hacked their way through Windsor College’s student body to get to Sidney Prescott. As he watched you grab your things from your seat, you gave him a smile and a quick “See you around.” He responded with a smile of his own and a wave. Yeah, maybe he would.

Fall semester started unceremoniously, except for the arrival of a new roommate. She seemed nice enough, but you were going to miss having your own space. The two weeks between semesters where you didn’t have to worry about Stats anymore were beautiful. You vowed to never put yourself in a position to take a math course over the summer again. Still, it wasn’t all bad. Your roommate had a lot of night classes so she could work part-time during the day and have the rest of the week off. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from five to nine were all yours until December. 

Wednesday nights were your favorite to spend enjoying the four hours to yourself. After getting something to eat in the dining hall, you would head back to the room and put on a movie. Your small TV didn’t have cable, so you were limited to local channels and movie rentals. It was the biggest reason you bought the VCR in the first place. 

On one particular Wednesday night, you’d finished watching a copy of The Princess Bride you rented from the video store a block over from campus. There was still about two hours to spare before your roommate would be back. While you waited for the tape to rewind, the phone rang. You reached over to your desk to pick up.

“Hello, Y/N,” an unfamiliar man’s voice said.

“Who is this?” you asked, fumbling with the tape a bit as you tried to eject it from the VCR and put it back in the box with one hand. You groaned in frustration.

“Call me a secret admirer.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Easy tiger, I just wanna talk.”

“Look, you’re skeezing me out. Don’t call again,” you said, hanging up. 

Almost as soon as you did, you heard a knock at your door. Phone in hand, you walked over, opening it to find no one on the other side. You looked up and down the hall to no avail, but noticed a small package wrapped in brown paper on the floor in front of you. You frowned, kicking it lightly. There was definitely something in it. Leaning down, you took a closer look at what was written on the paper. In black marker lettering, the package read:

TO: Y/N

FROM: GHOSTFACE

It didn’t seem like Ghostface’s M.O., though. You weren’t all that familiar with the Woodsboro killings, having seen mentions of it on your local news station when it first happened. Even though Sidney and Randy were both students at Windsor, you didn’t run in the same circles as them. They probably wouldn’t want to talk about something so traumatizing anyway. Gale Weathers’ sensationalized book wasn’t exactly at the top of your reading list, and your roommate was still trying to sell you on the movie adaptation. After hearing about the two students who were murdered at the preview screening, you definitely weren’t interested. 

Sighing, you grabbed the package off the floor, tucking it under your arm. At the very least, you could call campus security to come by and take a look at it. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the phone in your hand rang and muttered a curse to yourself when you picked up, hearing that same menacing voice from just a few minutes before.

“Don’t hang up on me again if you know what’s good for you, bitch.”

“Is this some Unabomber type thing?”

“Consider it a gift. Go on, open it.”

Against your better judgment, you shut and locked the door behind you, placing the package on your bed and tearing open the brown paper wrapping with one hand to find–a plain Nike shoebox. You pulled off the lid and saw a VHS inside, Y/N 07-27-98 scrawled on the white label stuck to the spine.

“I don’t–what is this?”

“Why don’t you put it on and see?”

With a shaky breath, you picked up the VHS and brought it over to the TV on the other side of the room, turning it on and putting it in the VHS player. The other end of the line was silent except for faint breathing as the video began to play. 

Dread overwhelmed your senses as your bedroom came into focus, and it looked like the camera had been placed on top of your desk. You glanced over at the desk, not noticing anything immediately standing out as a possible secret camera, which could have only meant that your voyeur had access to your room to plant it. 

You watched as a grainier version of yourself locked the door and then walked over to your CD player, turning it on. Your stomach dropped when the music began to play, soft and not the clearest through the video, but you knew as soon as you heard the opening notes of ‘Call Me’ by Blondie, it was the mix CD you put on to muffle the sounds of—

“I’m not fucking afraid of you, asshole,” you spat into the receiver, tears welling up in your eyes at the sight of your oblivious self shedding your clothing and making yourself comfortable on your bed. “Sidney Prescott got the losers who pulled this shit two years ago. She’ll wipe the floor with a knockoff like you.”

“Would you shut up? You’re gonna miss the good part,” Ghostface said.

The sound of your own moaning mixed with the music began playing over the TV. Fuck, people were gonna think you were watching porn. You kind of were, except you weren’t. Being your most vulnerable, intimate self was never something you wanted anyone else to witness. 

“Fuck you. I’m turning this off,” you said, your voice little more than a whimper as you tried not to cry.

“You sure know how to put on a show. I wonder what everyone else on campus would think? I made plenty of copies to go around.”

“What do you want?”

“An encore.”

“My roommate could be back any minute.” 

“She still has class for another two hours. Now strip.”

You trembled at the realization of just how much he knew about your life, to the point where he even knew your roommate’s schedule too. Suddenly your fall schedule disappearing over the summer, things of yours going missing and sometimes reappearing, even feeling like you were being followed at times all made sense as a chill crawled down your spine. You always considered yourself aware and alert, at least enough to never end up in a situation like this.

Turning off the TV, you looked around the room. Slowly, you walked over to your closet, kicking inside it. Nothing. “Where are you?”

“Why? Feeling lonely?” he taunted.

“I just wanna know how you can see me,” you asked quietly as you approached your bed to look under it.

“You’re about to find out if you don’t stop stalling and fucking do what I say. I won’t be as nice about it.”

Setting the phone down, you dejectedly shed your pajamas. Part of you wanted to say fuck it and hang up. You huffed, figuring he wasn’t bluffing about the copies if he already went to this much trouble. You grabbed the phone, bringing it back to your ear.

“Okay,” you said, your voice shaking. “I’m—I took off my clothes.”

“Get on the bed.”

Your lip trembled as you looked at your bed. The springs seemed to squeak especially loud as you laid down, stiff as a board with a death grip around the phone. There was silence until you spoke again.

“N-Now what should I do?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? So many options, but we can start slow. Play with your tits for me.”

Reluctantly, you brought your free hand to one of your breasts, half-heartedly squeezing it.

“Like you want to,” he snapped.

It felt humiliating to be taking orders from some pervert over the phone, but nevertheless, you kneaded the soft skin beneath your fingers, pinching your nipple for good measure. 

“Shit,” he groaned, “you’d let me fuck your tits if I were there, you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, I’d let you do whatever you wanted.”

“Of course you would, slut,” he growled, and despite everything, you let out the faintest whimper at his words. His tone turned mocking, condescending as he caught your slip up. “You like that? You wanna be my slut?”

“I—“

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it.”

You hesitated for a few moments. “I wanna be your slut.”

Fabric rustled on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a zipper. You could hear him utter a curse, his only words that hadn’t been altered by the voice changer. Desperately, you tried to place where you’d heard him before, but to no avail as the modified voice spoke.

“Now, I want you to put the phone on speaker, and lay it right next to your head.”

You did as you were instructed, dreading what he was going to tell you to do next.

“Why don’t you slip your hand between your legs and see how wet you are? A slut like you must be dripping by now.”

Sliding your hand down from your breasts to your pussy, you hesitated before slipping your fingers between your folds.

“You wanted this all along, didn’t you?”

“N-No,” you protested weakly, your stomach dropping upon feeling your wet pussy. You didn’t want to be turned on by the situation, but your body seemed to think otherwise.

“No? You knew something wasn’t right, Y/N. You’ve known for weeks. That didn’t stop you from putting your cunt on display for me, but your fingers aren’t enough, are they?”

Almost as if possessed, your hand moved to your clit, fingers playing with it as you bit your lip.

“You’re such a fucking whore, choking yourself to get off. Yeah, I saw that too. You want it to hurt, huh?

“S-stop,” you whined.

“I bet you’re the type of girl who thinks being tied up and smacked around is foreplay.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, slipping two of your fingers inside your pussy. There was no way he couldn’t hear the sound of your fingering your wet cunt over the phone.

“If I were there—fuck—I’d have you begging for my cock. I wouldn’t hold back. I’d fill you up until all you could do was cry. Maybe I’d gag you with your panties to shut you up, make you taste how fucking wet you are for me while I ruin you.”

“Oh my god—fuck.”

“Now, put your hand around your throat, and squeeze,” your tormentor ordered.

There was no hesitation as you brought your other hand to your throat, your fingers constricting your airway as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and you imagined a black gloved hand in its place, your fucked out gaze met with a pair of black eyes, stony and indifferent to your protests as he pounded into you. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice husky, and you could hear him getting himself off too, fast, mean strokes on what you could only imagine was a cock that’d split you in half. “Harder.”

You squeezed tighter, and at the same time felt your pussy clench around your fingers. There was no way anyone walking by couldn’t hear the sound of you fingering yourself, you wondered if they could hear Ghostface over the speakerphone too. Maybe that was the point.

“Go on, cum. I know you want to,” he groaned. “I’m close too, been picturing your mouth around my cock. You’d probably love to—fuck—choke on that. Fucking slut.”

This time, he moaned, and you could hear him cursing under his breath, his voice unaltered again. You didn’t bother trying to place the sound of his voice, too busy chasing your own orgasm until you gave your throat another squeeze and your hips bucked, cumming all over your fingers as a pained moan tore from your throat.

The phone was silent except for the two of you breathing heavily. You brought your hand from your throat to your forehead. What the fuck did you just do?

“See you around, Y/N,” he said, and you knew it was a promise rather than a suggestion.

The other end of the line went dead. You spent at least fifteen minutes lying there, the dial tone buzzing in your ear. Finally, you willed yourself to get up from the bed, slamming the phone into the receiver before shuffling over to the VCR. 

Taking the video tape, your hands shook as you considered what to do with it. You could bring it to the police, but was there really any way for them to trace who recorded it? Besides, you’d rather die than anyone else see the video. It was bad enough that Ghostface or whatever fucking pervert was getting his rocks off to it. The last thing you wanted was a room full of cops and detectives analyzing a video of you fingering and choking yourself. It was diabolical, really, how well he had planned the whole thing. 

In deciding between shame and justice, you angrily chose shame, throwing the VHS onto the floor and taking out all of your frustration on the damn thing. You stomped on it, jumped, spat, screamed, all the while picturing that stupid mask in its place. You ended up cutting your bare foot on a piece of broken plastic, and finally sunk to the floor in a mess of sobs. 

Insomnia claimed you as a victim following the phone call from Ghostface, especially after you returned from class the next day to find a pair of your panties you’d previously thought were sacrificed to the depths of the dorm laundry room placed at the top of your hamper, dried cum all over it. Gagging, you threw it into the garbage and washed your hands under scalding hot water for no less than three minutes. You almost wished it was the result of your roommate bringing a guy back to the dorm, but you knew better.

Your roommate noticed your skittishness and confronted you about tossing and turning all night, offering to go to the student health center or even the emergency room with you. You declined, deciding to spend your nights in the dorm’s common area to at least let her get some sleep. Despite chugging coffee and applying copious amounts of concealer beneath your eyes to hide how discolored the skin had become in your exhaustion, people were starting to comment. You may as well have been a dead woman walking. 

Jumpy and paranoid, you were seeing cameras out of the corner of your eye wherever you went. It didn’t help that a few of your friends were film majors. Their cameras were practically glued to their palms. Not to mention, just about anyone could be Ghostface. You withdrew socially, no longer attending the clubs you’d been involved in and hardly giving your friends the time of day. You didn’t know who to trust.

After nearly passing out in your Introduction to Eastern Religions class, your professor practically forced you to leave. You shuffled out of the classroom, trying to ignore how much your head was pounding. Except, the pounding noise wasn’t in your head, as you turned around to see Ghostface striding toward you, boots beating against the floor as he approached. 

In your delirious state, you ran into a storage room rather than to the nearest exit. You silently cursed yourself as soon as the door shut behind you, effectively trapping you inside. It wasn’t big by any means, but there were at least a few shelves and boxes you could hide behind and delay the inevitable. You didn’t have much hope in your ability to get the upper hand on him with your sleep deprivation.

Just as you crouched behind a stack of boxes, you heard the door open and promptly slam shut. Your stomach sunk when a lock clicked. Fuck. Why hadn’t you thought to check for a lock? Involuntarily, you let out a whimper in frustration, immediately throwing your hands over your mouth.

A cruel laugh echoed through the room, while not the same low pitch as the phone call, you recognized the tone, the mocking cadence that made you get yourself off to him just days before. 

“Talk about playing hard to get,” Ghostface said, pushing you down as soon as you tried standing up. 

Your skull bounced against the floor beneath you. You were seeing double. Suddenly, as you groaned in pain, the wind was knocked out of you by his boot on your chest. Teary-eyed and delirious, you went limp beneath him. There was nothing you could try, nothing you could do. You were completely at his mercy, or lack thereof was more like it.

“Thought it was about time we got up close and personal,” he mocked, his boot pressing on your chest harder as he leaned down, the stark white mask with its soulless eyes and haunting grimace just a few inches from your face.

Between the pressure making it difficult to breathe and your exhaustion, you could feel yourself losing consciousness. As you began to black out, you thought you finally recognized the voice behind the mask.

[multifunctionalnitroglycerin]

Heaven is not entirely on the wrong – a Hazbin Hotel theory #1 - Adam

Alright fellas, before you start shooting and cursing at my name with the most colorful strings of curses, hear me out.

But first let me get this out of the way, heaven not infallible no, I am not going to paint them as the perfectly good guys, no flaws whatever. And yes, Adam is still an arsehole. A big one. A heartbroken one, but still a royal arsehole. One that is one of the most memorable characters in Hazbin.

I mean imagine being the first man and having two women made for you. The perfect pieces to complete your puzzle. You know, as soulmate-y as it goes. And then both of them, one after the other end up leave you. For the same dude. And said dude is the reason you were cast out from the garden of Eden in the first place. Yup, that hurts. And I can only imagine it creates a bunch of insecurities, a hint of inferiority complex (How can one complete with an ANGEL – fallen or not?) an a very healthy misogynistic view.

Because hey, the first man was created, given a purpose, and given a partner to carry out that purpose with. A partner tailored specifically for him. Made for him, made to complete him in every way. And he is ecstatic.  And she cheats on him. With a fallen angel. His purpose is now null. And when given a second chance, IT HAPPENS AGAIN, WITH THE SAME DUDE.

And allow me to believe that Adam cherished Eve much more than Lilith. After all you don’t fully realize how much you love something, util you lose it. And Adam had lost a wife once. So, it is not difficult to imagine that he was much more devoted and caring to Eve. Consequently, when Lilith “corrupts” her, and Eve cheats on Adam with Lucifer – AGAIN, well he loses it. And here we are 10000 or however many years later, and he is a royal arsehole. Because how can you look at any woman the same way again, when the two women made for you, hurt you that way.  

And the heartbreak kinda bleeds out to his personality. His whole demeanor practically screams “Hey bitches look, I have been through shit, cheated on that way twice – with all the implications that come with it – and I am still here, standing and triumphing like Heaven’s very own Hollywood celebrity. And I have a bunch of badass women under my command that love, admire me and follow my every order, that cherish me like my two wives never did.”

And that last bit, is an important plot point, cause here comes Lute. Lute that was his second in command and cherished him and followed him right to the very end. Lute the only woman that did not betray him. And Adam dies with a smile.

Given all of that, I would think it is safe to assume that Adam is pretty jaded, as far as both women and second chances go. Because he got his second chance, after the first one was squandered – not out of his choice, but Lilith’s – and the second chance as well did not work out, because Eve ended up betraying him as well. For Adam, second chances amount to another chance at failure. We can all see why he wouldn’t be all unicorns and rainbows for Charlie’s plan to rehabilitate sinners and give them a “second” chance, when his own second chance amounted to nothing but a repeat of the first failure.

All in all, Adam is a major pain in the neck, and a misogynistic asshole yes, but he is also someone that has been hurt, and that in his own way conquered his trauma and heartbreak and made something of himself. That is not to say he is an altruistic goody-two-shoes hero, far from it, but he is a bit of an unintentional hero, that while following his own agenda and self-interests, freed many souls of their eternal torment.

And before you come at me for the nonsense that my last sentence is we move on the next part.

#2 – Exterminations

[doyouevenshipbr0]

u know what. im in the mood to piss ppl off. heres my ranking of the 10 strongest waterbenders in atla and lok (not including avatars, and im not including anything from kiyoshi or yangchen’s era. i havent read those hehe. sowwy. strictly going off the shows).

now im doing this bc waterbending is by FAR my fav form of bending. and in MY OPINION!!!!!,,, people overlook some pretty important facts and feats and decide based more on who their favs are. this is my opinion anyways so im sure i inevitably did that too! but anyways. here we go.

10 strongest waterbenders:

honorable mentions: kya- listen. she is my GIRL. and also she is very strong, but at the end of the day, shes a healer. she has very little combat experience, and she was up against some real monsters in tlok. and shes known to be a great healer, but we dont even see that much of that. for this reason, she cant be top 10:/. eska and desna- they are GOOD. and their synchronized waterbending is super interesting. unfortunately i just kinda think everyone else in the top 10 is stronger. and i feel like the reason they are so strong is because they’re a unit. if they were separated, i have doubts.

10. tonraq- right off the bat im wondering if im going off biases LOL. but i love him. i love his style of bending. he is arguably my fav waterbender to watch waterbend. but unfortunately, in most of his fights, he’s kindaaaa getting worked (im on s2 of lok rewatch now. so i may be forgetting some stuff. but the big fights that stick out for me are him vs unalaq where he gets worked and him vs zaheer and korra where again, he gets kinda worked.) very clearly strong, but does not have all that much to show for it in the show. but he fights with all the big shots for a reason, and he led the water tribe army or something like that. so. hes good.

9. huu- i honestly don’t remember a whole lot of him, but swamp style of water bending is super interesting, and he clearly does it the best. i know we dont see a whole lot of him, but i cant overlook that he is THEE swamp bender.

8. pakku- obv. hes a member of the white lotus and was the master waterbender of the northern tribe. a slayer for his time but i do think he is outclassed by most waterbenders we see in tlok. cannot deny his strength tho. he was the goat at one time for a reason!

7. hama- as far as we know, she is the first blood bender. aka the strongest aspect of waterbending. she is a LEGEND. but again, i think she was a master for her time, but would have trouble holding her own in modern day bending esp without a fully moon.

6. ming hua- the way she uses waterbending as an extension of herself is clearly masterful. and i feel like we never see anyone utilize waterbending anything like how she does. unfortunately, she cant be any higher bc we dont see any extraordinary sub-water feats (healing… i think???? don’t remember lol. bloodbending, spirit healing). but clearly, she was an insane threat to everyone around her.

5. unalaq- so like. MAYBE he should be 4, but i really hate him lol. but i cannot deny he is an EXCEPTIONAL waterbender and pretty much no other waterbender (that we see in s2) can even TOUCH him. hes got the spirit healing, and hes got the skill. somethin somethin vaatu vaatu. idk. i hate him and i dont rly like this season lol. moving on.

4. katara- ok. she was the best in atla. no ifs and or buts. HOWEVER. she gets outclassed in lok and i think we know why. BUT. she was a complete prodigy as soon as she started training with pakku. there was no extension of waterbending that she could not do. she clearly thrived learning waterbending how she did, in such a fast paced, high pressure, and high stakes situation, and thats not even HER PRIME! she was waterbending for under a year when we see her. and we still got the greatest waterbender of that time. there was no one like her, and no waterbender could hold a candle to her by the end of atla. and once again, was only 14. only waterbending for a year. whos doing it like my sis?!

3. tarrlok- unfortunately for katara, the bloodbending family, without a doubt, outdoes her. bloodbending without a full moon? done and done. sorry! i believe katara COULD bloodbend outside of a full moon given the extensive training tarrlok and noatak were given but unfortunately, we will never know, so i cannot in good conscience put her any higher than 4. tarrlok was a master waterbender in itself and pretty much a master blood bender.

2. yakone- he bloodbent. a whole courtroom. with his mind. we dont see anything else from him, and we really dont need to. sorry. it is what it is.

1. amon- he bloodbends with his mind. and learned to take away someone’s bending ability with blood bending. katara, the best healer in the world, could not restore korras bending. granted, she was probably going about it wrong, but the point is, she couldnt do it. taking away someones bending with bloodbending just takes the cake. that aside, even in a combat setting, when he wasnt even trying he was wooping on all other benders of all kinds bc he was controling their movements w his mind. imagine him openly using waterbending AND having his mind control technique?! he would be unstoppable. im ngl i dont love how lok handles waterbending/bloodbending in general. i kinda think they made it TOO strong with little reasoning). also we do see him do an awesome lil water tornado at the end. so. not that we needed that, but its a cute lil cherry on top to his waterbending. hes the strongest waterbender. sorry!

want to finish this by saying had katara learnt to bloodbend outside of a full moon, she would be number one. and i do believe she could have learned. but she didnt. so she cant be first.