#and yet... you can't help but want to see it happen

[nikito0x]

You don't know where your significant other disappeared, but you know one thing. You would do anything to bring them back to you or at the very least help them on their quest. All you want is to have them back in your arms, whatever that may mean. Whatever they would like it to be. You just... Just can't imagine life without them.

While looking for them, you get yourself involved in some shady dealings. You see the darker side of the world. You had tried the safe proper way, but it hadn't worked.

A year passes. Then two. Then three.

You are desperate. You have tried everything. Learned everything there is to know. Yet, you can't reach them. You don't give up, however.

After years of trials and tribulations, you have somehow become one of the most powerful people out there. You have money, power, prestige. But you care for none of it. You only want your love back home.

And maybe, maybe when they are back, they would run into your arms and try squeezing the life out if you, while you pepper their face all over with kisses.

They would hold you, comfort you, explain where they had been all this time. You would get to do the same for them and, after all this time, be able to finally provide for their every need and want. You sill kept that little apartment you two had been renting, just in case they come back to it.

Five years have passed.

You are now standing in the middle of that apartment, on your anniversary. With their favorite flowers in your hands you sit at the table before their picture. You have finished telling them all about your day and how things have been. So now you simply sit back in silence, reminiscing.

Suddenly, there is a jingle of keys and the click of a door unlocked.

Could it be..!?

Your partner enters through the door. They look older, tired. They have a new hairstyle and their clothes are nothing like what you remember them wearing. You can see some scars poking through, where fabric doesn't cover.

They're perfect.

They look up in surprise at you, stiffen as if preparing for an attack. You stay still, not wanting to frighten them. After a minute of careful observation, they finally recognize you. But...

In their eyes, there is none of the joy you had hoped for. None of the love you remembered.

Half an hour later, you have been sat down and explained everything in a summary that barely made any sense to you. But you accept it. Because it's them and you love them, and they wouldn't lie to you.

Finally, you are told, tentatively, carefully, ashamedly, that your lover? Your spouse? They had become someone else's.

The war had changed them. You understand. Things just... Happened. You understand. They are sorry things were like this. You understand. They no longer held feelings for you. You...

You are politely asked to leave as your... Your ex recuperates from what happened.

You go back to your empty manner (not home, never home, nothing will be ever again), you lie in your cold bed. You don't eat the expensive food made by your private chef.

You die inside.

...

What now?

For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey, you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face asking to speak to you.

[ssentimentals]

hellloooo can u please do idol!coups x reader for sleep deprivation on cheol’s part with reader taking care of him xx

helloooo anonie, sure i can, thank you for requesting! 💜

prompt: sleep deprivation

you try not to hover. you try not to act like mother hen in fear of being annoying. you try but it's so god damn hard when seungcheol looks like a dead man standing. your boyfriend has always been a hard worker, that's one of the qualities you admire about him, but his work ethic is also your biggest worry. seungcheol is present but just barely - you are sure that he didn't hear majority of the things you said with his mind being very, very far from here, buried in new dance routines or lyrics that had to be finished. it's amazing to see how work energizes seungcheol and gives him purpose, but it's horrible to watch him crumble under pressure. slowly you reach out for his hand, giving it a light squeeze: 'cheollie, baby. you're with me?'

seungcheol blinks at your touch and it takes him few moments to sit up straighter on the seat and send you a fake smile. 'yeah, baby, sorry, i'm here. what did you say?'

god, you can't believe this man wanted to pick you up after your work. seungcheol can't be trusted with a car now, not when he can barely focus. 'i asked if yuo're sure that we should go out tonight. you look really tired, cheol.'

he stubbornly shakes his head. 'no-no, i'm good. i'm so caught up at work that we haven't seen each other much lately.'

you kind of want to strangle and kiss him at the same time. he is so good for trying to make time for you amidst his hectic workload but he is so bad for not taking care of himself properly - you sigh loudly. 'when did you sleep last time?' you ask straight to the point. thank god for traffic at this hour, so you can fully turn to your boyfriend without paying attention to the road. 'you look like a zombie, baby.' seungcheol purses his lips and you instantly understand what's the problem. 'cheollie... you can't fall asleep?'

seungcheol sags in the passenger seat, looking embarrassed and done with himself. 'yeah,' he admits quietly. 'i- it's so fucking stupid. i don't know, i'm trying everything but it's just not working.' he sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly. 'i don't think i actually slept properly in the last 4-5 days.'

this admission breaks your heart. seungcheol is running on fumes and yet despite it all, he still is here, with you, because he doesn't want you to feel neglected. without thinking you enter new address to the gps, knowing full well what can help him this time. 'instead of the restaurant, let's have a picnic,' you announce in an overly enthusiastic tone.

'at eight pm?' seungcheol asks, confused. 'i mean if that's what you want then i don't mind but-'

'that's exactly what i want.' you squeeze his hand, sending him a small smile. 'no worries, baby. we are very close.'

it doesn't happen often, but it did happen before. sleep deprivation is, unfortunately, a part of seungcheol's life as an idol and you learned hard way how to deal with it. familiar scenes of home or studio don't calm him mind down, but fresh air and water always help. you park the close as close you can to the river and roll down all windows, letting cool evening breeze in. 'alrighty,' you turn to him with a gentle smile and snatch small blanket from the backseat. 'you take this and get comfortable. i'll order us some food.'

seungcheol grabs the blanket, frowning. 'what is happening?'

'we are having a picnic in the car,' you explain, opening food delivery app. 'and you are sleeping until the food arrives, getting much needed rest.' seungcheol opens his mouth to protest and you cut him off: 'this is a date. this is our date that i want to have.'

the thing is, you don't really care about specifics of date as long as seungcheol is close. he doesn't look convinced at first, but when you start talking about your date with a quiet music on the background, he relaxes. it doesn't take him long to fall asleep - adjusted seat, warm blanket, fresh air and your hand in his do their magic. you watch quietly as his breathing slows; in sleep seungcheol doesn't look as tired. still holding his hand you adjust your own seat and lower the radio volume. seungcheol going out of his way to be with you makes you want to do the same; and if date is about you letting him finally sleep and guarding his sleep then you're not complaining, not at all.

a/n: writing this made me so soft :') pls give cheollie all the hugs and sleep he deserves!! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Brat by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Spanking, Choking, Dom!Terry Richmond, BDE, Bisexual Female Partner, Compersion Fetish, BDSM Play, Urophilia/Watersports.

Summary: Sasha is a brat. On purpose. Now Terry is mad. Big mad.

Word Count: 6.7K

"I'm still, I'm still wet here tonight

So I will make you cum through the night

Will you touch me? Will you go deep in me?

I will in the sheets

I will, I will, I-I-I will"

Teyana Taylor – "WTP"

The cops were called to his home

Terry worked overnight duty on base, and his desk phone rang at ten-twenty. His neighbor Roderick, a fellow marine, hit him up with news that a noise complaint about his apartment brought out the local police. It was the second one that month.

"Your girlfriend has a bunch of women in your place again…the music is blasting and the cops are talking to her right now."

Terry rubbed his forehead. His jawline tightened. Sasha knew better than to have a bunch of people in his place when he wasn't there without letting him know about it ahead of time. He'd recently given her keys to his apartment six months ago as a reward for being a good girl. Here she was, fucking up the privilege already.

You see, Sasha is a brat.

On purpose.

It's a quality that titillates Terry, and yet it frustrates him, too. Sasha can't help it. Her nature is to be desirable, a supreme fuck, and well…a rule breaker.

Terry met Sasha at a wedding in Bayagoula Parrish, Louisiana. Both were part of the wedding party, he as a groomsman and she as a bridesmaid. He wore his military dress blues to match the groom. Sasha's beauty angered the bride who felt she eclipsed all the other women in the wedding party. He appreciated it because they'd been paired with different people to walk down the aisle, and he had the opportunity to watch her stroll in after him. Sasha displayed her shapely figure, which could be quite distracting. Her legs were fantastic, especially in heels and a high slit dress. She was top heavy too, and the off-the-shoulder dress made every attracted eye dart back and forth between thigh meat and the big juicy melons bouncing as she approached the altar. The tangerine orange of her dress enhanced the warm cognac color of her skin. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her. She was pure fap material for guys who couldn't pull her, which happened to be many at the reception. Samuel, who partnered walking down the aisle with her, strutted around thinking he was the shit with her displayed on his arm. But it was a wrap once Sasha lined her gaze with Terry's at the altar. Fireworks.

The two of them together oozed sex appeal and thoughts of sex. They complimented each other's energy. He had an assertive, domineering personality shaped by his years in the marines. Equal parts controlling and nurturing, he could overwhelm the ladies within seconds of meeting them. He already had the women there swooning over his voice. A gaze from his alluring eyes in any direction set hearts fluttering. Even the older women tee-heed with girlish enthusiasm interacting with him. He knew his power to attract and weaponized it as needed.

Sasha was a natural pleaser. Not to be mixed up with an overall people-pleaser, or a tiresome PickMe, her desire was to satisfy her lover, and they in turn would naturally gift her the moon, with a necklace of stars to match. She came off bubbly, warm, and endearing…the type of woman receptive to romance from an Alpha type. Male or female. He sensed she needed a little bit of spoiling with firm discipline to keep her in check. Pleasure and punishment. A heady combination he wanted to offer.

One bridesmaid joked about Terry and Sasha looking like human versions of Scar and Nala from The Lion King. His devilish green eyes and her equally cat-like eye shape gave testament to it. Their instant chemistry was like an electric current running through a socket. Everyone around them sensed the incredible magnetism they carried in proximity, like static electricity zapping them.

She sat down at the same table and immediately started flirting with Terry. After a few drinks, a deeper connection blossomed. Her voice turned him on. Everything sounded erotic the way she enunciated certain words, as if she wanted to make love to his ears. They chatted each other up, lightly touching hands and arms, whispering in each other's ears. Her breasts kept brushing against his arm, turning him on further as he fantasized about sucking on them with her sexy legs thrown over his shoulders. She brought out a feral competition in a lot of the men who interacted with her on the dance floor. What impressed him the most was how she complimented women there constantly, hyping them on their clothes and make-up. She was a girl's girl and danced with some who men passed over by streaking to the dance floor because the DJ was excellent. Sasha rallied a group of women into doing the YaYa, a Creole line-dance making a resurgence in those parts because of Beyonce's Cowboy Carter album.

He didn't want to get sweaty in his military uniform, but Terry couldn't resist a good, soulful line dance with a bunch of Black people. Bayagoula had some slim pickings for Black women since it was a majority white town, but since the bride was Black, Terry and a host of other Black soldiers hoped she had enough Black female friends coming to town available for some good times. He silently thanked the wedding planner for placing Sasha next to him. They shared a slow dance, and he loved having her breasts resting against his chest.

As the evening continued, they cozied up even more.

Sasha kissed him first right at the table. The lights in the venue had lowered for after-dinner partying, so Terry took advantage, purposely grazing his fingers against her right breast where he'd thrown his arm around her shoulder. Their table was empty and the dance floor was full tilt boogie. Nibbling on her earlobe, he whispered filthy things he wanted to do to her. He lowered his hand and slipped them up the slit in her dress, sliding her panties aside, fingering her with shallow thrusts. She let him finger fuck her, begging for him to go deeper.

Sasha started playing with Terry's dick under the tablecloth. Everyone else was too drunk and too occupied with dancing. No one paid attention to them. She got his dick so stiff that he dragged her to the nearest restroom and fucked her. Lifted her onto the sink, hiked up her dress, unfastened the upper part of her dress and released tits he now adored. It didn't take long for him to spill into the condom. Their foreplay at the table had them rearing to go.

His dick was too big and heavy to fit all the way inside her pussy. The last two inches, visible at the root, moved up and down as he ejaculated. He loved how she handled his meat. He packed so much length that her pussy squirted from the pressure of being stretched to capacity. She peed on him, too. He pinched her big nipples, obsessing over them already.

"I'm taking you home with me," he said.

His dick kept pulsing cum, and he shivered as the last orgasmic surge pushed through his dick. Even his nut sack jumped at the pleasure of release. Sasha gave off soft babygirl energy, and he wanted a woman like that. He'd only known her for five hours and already claimed her as his.

"Okay," she said, with her legs draped over his arms.

Terry turned her around and lifted her breasts. He watched his reflection in the mirror bounce them in his hands, getting off on the weight and size. His dick finally started going down, and Sasha peeled the condom off. He turned to urinate in the toilet and she held his dick for him, guiding the stream into the bowl.

"You like watching me do that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Hmmm, into watersports?"

Her sloe eyes twinkled with delight.

"I used to watch my brother's college friends pee in our backyard when they were drunk. The sight of dicks out in the open like that…squirting everywhere…yummy. I get wet just thinking about it."

"What if I pissed on you? Would you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy…I would play with my pussy while you did it."

He grinned. She already understood his expectations. He whispered in her ear that he wanted a good girl, an obedient one, and she knew exactly what he meant. A submissive that catered to her man.

She shook his dick and used one of the soft paper towels to clean his tip. Then she dropped to her knees and sucked him off for a final cleaning. He wanted to bust a load on her face, but they'd been in the restroom long enough.

He scooped her up and drove back to his apartment.

They began a committed relationship soon after.

Terry dominated her life. Told her what to wear, what to cook for them when he worked hard all day supporting them both. Sasha flitted from part-time job to job like a bee gathering pollen whenever she was bored, not in a rush to find a career like Terry had done. He was a big bad marine with a jacked body, a tatted sleeve down one arm, and a sculpted face. He liked her being home, and she liked being there spoiled by him. His pay grade and rank allowed him to provide a comfortable life for her.

There were other rules, of course.

The apartment had to be pristine clean and her pussy had to be ready when he came home. He dealt with loud, tense, funky, gritty, and abrasive men all day. His home had to reflect the opposite vibe, and he needed to sink into her softness in the evening.

She greeted him at the door after work, looking dreamy in heels and clothes he liked to see her in, like short skirts and sexy dresses to show off those legs. With a cocktail in hand and deep welcoming tongue kisses, Sasha played her role. He brought home flowers every Friday, and at least once a week he bought her presents. She liked bracelets and expensive perfumes in fancy little bottles. He bought her books on whatever new hyper-fixation she had. One month it was soap-making. Another month it was origami, and he suffered through an apartment full of little flying cranes and odd-shaped butterflies. It made him feel good to bring her something special just to witness the sparkle in her eye and the squeal she let out each time. That was often more arousing than foreplay.

On the weekends, when he had to stay on base or travel out of state for additional work-related training, they agreed that she could have a female lover over for girl time. They'd brought other women into their bedroom on various occasions, and Terry sat next to Sasha as she had sex on the king-sized bed. He never indulged in the other women with her, preferring to watch and jerk off. Some might say he was a cuck, but that wasn't it. He had a compersion fetish. Sasha's happiness at having him as a boyfriend and still indulging in sex with another woman gave him pleasure mentally. It stimulated him, no doubt, to watch his woman go at it with another beautiful woman, but he never did a threesome by sticking his dick in someone else. Sasha was enough woman for him, plus, not every outsider was into the things that he liked to do to her. Like breath play with choking, and of course, the golden showers.

Sasha played the submissive well, pampering herself during the day in preparation for his coming home. Terry gave strong Daddy energy, and it brought out the softness in her. His father raised him to be a stern patriarch and southern gentleman. Women were to be taken care of and the expectation was for them to please their men like sweet southern belles.

Sasha was sweet and one hundred percent southern…but a brat, nonetheless. And brats don't always do what you tell them.

She'd purposely leave crumbs in the kitchen for him to find after work. Or she'd forget to make the bed the way he liked. Sometimes she ordered take out instead of making him the home-cooked meals he expected. That's when Terry would fume and take off his belt, lifting her up and taking her into the bedroom to get spanked until her ass cheeks were a deeper shade. When he finished striking her backside, he'd rub cooling blue gel all over her rump, simultaneously soothing her and chastising her.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he'd lament. "You know I don't like punishing you. I want to come home and have peace. You're my peace, Sasha."

Those searing green eyes would narrow and his brows stayed furrowed, correcting her behavior.

She loved that shit.

However, on the day he had to leave for a weekend base stay several hours before Roderick called him about the police at his place, Sasha (purposely):

1. Forgot to pick up his dry cleaned dress blues on time the night before when he asked.

2. Tossed his clean clothes in drawers without folding them.

3. And God forbid, mixed his unpaired socks in his underwear drawer.

His jaw grew rigid, and he spoke to her through gritted teeth.

"Didn't we talk about this?" he said with an exasperated tone.

"Who cares? Everything is clean. I'll get your dry cleaning today. Don't have a cow," she said, scrolling through pages of fashion on her tablet, hoping he'd snap.

He always took the bait.

His hand went gently around her throat, and he pushed her against the wall.

"What did I tell you about talking to me like that?"

A dangerous smirk twisted his lips to the side. Sasha pouted.

"It won't kill your clothes to not be perfect. I washed and dried them and put them away. That's good enough. Deal with it."

"You know we have to have order in this home. I tell you this every day, Sasha, an orderly home denotes an orderly mind. Fix it."

"You fix it."

He sighed and glanced over at the clock on the wall. His work day started in thirty minutes. He had to be on base in fifteen or risk being late. That was simply a no-no.

"Go straighten out those drawers," he insisted, with more bass in his voice.

He pushed her toward the dresser and hurriedly went to their walk-in closet to grab and fold his old dress blues. He liked to have them on him in case the upper brass needed him to appear ready at a moment's notice for any occasion. His new uniforms needed cleaning before he would wear them. Sasha strolled past their bureau.

"Sasha, I'm not playing!"

He buttoned up the shirt of his duty uniform. She sashayed toward the bedroom door, switching her hips in her babydoll nightie, big titties bouncing, not having any plans for the day except eating chocolate bon bons and shopping online or doing whatever she wanted at her whim because he wanted her to.

"Sasha!"

She ignored him. He snatched her up, throwing her across his lap on the bed. Yanking her nightie up, he pulled the matching panties down and swatted that ass. He gave an even number of spanks on each cheek, careful to soothe as well as punish so as not to harm her tender skin. She yelped and refused to apologize for back talking, making him more upset…and his dick hard.

He added some harder smacks under the jiggling booty cheeks, and she got the message, jerking on his lap and hissing from the sting of genuine pain settling in. He held her down with one arm and heated that ass up, stopping before she needed their safe word. Her disobedience and disrespect resulted in an unscheduled spanking session today, although they had scheduled sessions for weekdays and weekends.

He refused to use the cooling gel on her. She needed to feel the pain of punishment for at least an hour. He'd give her more after he returned home from work.

Terry looked down at his protruding dick nearly blasting a hole through his work pants. Sasha stared at it too, licking her lips. This was what she wanted. He'd ignored her earlier in bed when she wanted dick at four in the morning. The night before, he'd dragged home exhausted from combat drills. He chose to crash out instead of pleasing her. Her hand rubbed on his muscle-toned thighs and traced lines on his tatted bicep, but he was not in the mood.

She chose to make him late. Just to get back at him. He came harder when he was angry or irritated. Down went his zipper… and her knees. He fished out his dick and stroked hard and fast.

"Selfish little brat," he barked. "Making me fucking late!"

She pulled down her nightie, revealing his weakness, and he stared at her breasts. He moaned out loud when she plucked at her nipples and circled her pretty manicured nails around the edges of her dark areolas, reminding him visually of how big they were, and how much he loved that about her.

Pre-cum spilled out of his deep slit, and she used it as a lubricant to tease around her sizeable nipples that stood out like fat, juicy blueberries. His sack was heavy with cum. Sasha licked her lips. Smacked those big melons together, and he blew his load all over her pretty face. She brushed back her wild, wavy hair and continued shaking her titties for him.

He panted and shot another hot rope across her tongue. She jumped up and placed herself on the bed, spreading open her labia for him to see the wet pink of her dripping pussy.

"Fucking slut!"

His eyes became mere slits of angry jade. He grabbed his cell and called his boss while shaking off his pants. A credible lie fell out of his mouth as he plunged into her. He bought an hour pretending to have a dead battery in his car. Tossing the phone on the bed, he fucked Sasha as deep as she could take unsheathed. He grunted, and she threw her arms across his shoulders, satisfied that she got what she wanted.

Anger guided his thrusts. When he started getting too aggressive, he switched to eating her pussy. That helped calm him down. She was insatiable. He should've paid more attention to that quality about her after the first night he fucked her. Sasha loved his dick and craved it at all hours.

Terry sucked and licked her clit, forcing breathy moans out of his woman. She rocked and rolled her hips, her vulva laid out like a summer nectarine: smooth, juicy and sweet. Sasha soaked his lips and chin. His facial hair became a sticky mess with her excess.

He spooned her on his side and parted her cheeks with his dick alone, sliding in and stretching her properly. Terry fondled a breast and pounded her down until that juicy pussy clenched around him. He kept fucking because he knew she needed more.

"Oh, Daddy! I'm sorry! Don't punish me like this!" she screamed, clutching onto the covers.

She wasn't sorry. She wanted that deep Daddy dick.

Sasha said it like a mantra over and over, "Oh Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…"

He groaned and hit the side of her walls to really make her feel it, and spurt a geyser of cum, still angry that he was late. But busting a nut that hard was worth it in the end. She gasped, her legs jerking wildly at the intensity.

Rising from the bed, he looked down at his brat. She took her fingers and peeled back her labia, letting him see the big creamy mess he made inside of her.

"Wait until I get home Sunday!" he snapped, lifting his pants from the floor.

She pissed him off.

And he let her.

He grabbed his small work duffle, and the garment bag he stuffed his old uniform in and slapped her thigh.

"Fix those clothes in the drawers," he grumbled.

After he left, she teased him mercilessly with several bathroom selfies of her voluptuous breasts and pancake areolas. Her big nipples stuck out hard, and she knew he would suffer at work seeing them all weekend and unable to touch them. During his lunch break, he went into a restroom stall and recorded himself urinating. Using his pelvic muscles, he made his dick twitch and spill urine on the seat. His penis was still big while flaccid, and moving it as he splashed into the toilet would excite her. He shot off the clip to her and later, during another break in his car, she sent him video clips from her smartphone of herself fingering her wet pussy and sucking on her nipples while she watched his video on her tablet. Sex was their shared passion. Their best form of communication.

"You were mean to me today," she texted afterward.

He jerked off in the car, re-watching her squirt all over herself. His dick was the object of her affection when she watched him piss. To her, it was just as sexy as watching him ejaculate semen. It came from inside of him, therefore it was precious to her.

She sent more photos of herself looking down at the phone with her breasts hanging with her tongue partially sticking out. He fucking loved her, and immediately sent her a sweating face emoji with hearts, and couldn't wait to fuck her like a goddamn wild man.

Back at work, he did some emergency drills and then took his place at the duty station, overseeing lower ranked soldiers.

Roderick's phone call shattered the routine of his evening. He couldn't leave work to deal with her, so he had to suffer the entire weekend.

Sasha didn't know that Roderick notified him of the cops. She kept sending him loving texts. Asked him what he wanted for supper on his return home.

"I picked up your uniform, and I organized the drawers properly, Daddy," she texted.

He ignored it, pretending to be busy.

She never mentioned having a gathering at his place that weekend. Technically, it was their shared residence, but his name was the only one on the lease. That meant any problems that occurred with the cops reflected on him in the complex. It wasn't a rarity to have the police called around there for noise ordinances. It was predominately military living there, so close to the base. Lots of parties occurred. But he'd never had them called on him until Sasha moved in. He didn't want that reputation, and he didn't want to dump her like he did his last girlfriend, who stayed out of pocket with him until he had enough. She was disobedient in other ways, but not enough to bring the authorities his way. His reputation and moral character around town was everything to him. He'd hate to let go of amazing pussy and fat titties. Terry was already thinking of putting a ring on Sasha's finger after only six months of being together. Babygirl was that perfect.

Except for when she acted out in ways he didn't like.

Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

He'd have Monday and Tuesday off. Plenty of time to course correct Sasha.

After showering and shaving on base, he drove to his complex in the early evening without telling her the exact time he was coming back.

He crept up the stairs to his second floor. The onsite apartment manager taped another yellow noise complaint notice to his door. He pulled it down and read the warning while sliding his key in. Stepping inside, the living room lights were off, but the bedroom and hall lights were on. She'd cooked something because the odor of something good still wafted in the apartment. He kicked off his shoes, already upset that she wasn't there to greet him.

Dropping his bags and the warning notice on the couch, he padded to their master bedroom.

Sasha was sucking down another woman's box on his bed.

Jasmine.

Both women were oblivious to him being there.

Terry sat down on the side chair in the room facing the bed and watched them go at it. Sasha had a small vibrator inserted into her vagina that also stimulated her clit. It was a cute little pink toy that hummed along to their sex play. His irritation from the notice simmered in the back of his mind. It took him a few minutes to settle into watching his woman and her side piece. Their moans and soft murmurings lulled him into arousal.

He started playing with his dick, pulled it out all the way along with his balls. Smearing pre-cum all around the bulbous head, he took slow strokes up and down, staying underneath the thick ridge. Sasha's pussy looked so pretty, with the pink toy snug inside of her. Her lover thrashed her head back and forth. He fisted his dick faster, smacking on his balls, wishing her pussy could go all the way down on him.

Jasmine came in Sasha's mouth and his lady love's pussy throbbed with a powerful orgasm. Sasha smacked her lips and moaned as her pussy took the internal vibrations. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Daddy," she sputtered, shocked to see him sitting in the room.

Jasmine lifted on her elbows and grinned.

Terry stood and dragged Sasha by her foot to the end of the bed. He pulled out the small vibrator from her pussy and jammed the tip of his dick against her vulva and nutted all over it. Sasha squealed with delight at the man-handling and Jasmine stared with envy. She longed to suck and fuck him, but that would never happen.

"Come lick up his cum," Sasha said.

She smeared it all over her clit and Jasmine settled between her thighs, lowering her head to lick like a cat lapping up milk.

Terry pulled off the rest of his clothes. Sasha kept her eyes locked on his, ignoring Jasmine licking her way to glory. When most of his semen went down Jasmine's throat, he climbed onto the bed. Jasmine scooted over, giving his large body precedence. His dick bobbed and Sasha whimpered in expectation.

"So glad you're home," Sasha said.

Terry carefully placed his thumb and fingers on the sides of her neck. She relaxed under him.

"Jasmine, I think it's time for you to go home," he said.

Sasha blinked twice and her eyes darted over to Jasmine, disappointed that he didn't want their favorite voyeur staying for their lovemaking.

"Now, Jasmine."

Jasmine quickly left the room. They heard her scramble into her clothes and leave the apartment.

"What's wrong?"

He liked the hesitant tone in her voice. It threw her off.

"Do you enjoy living here with me, Sasha?"

She tried to sit up. He held her down by the throat. Still gentle, but gripped tight enough to let her know she wasn't getting up. Pushing his tip into her, she sucked in a breath and he squeezed the sides of her neck, careful to count out the seconds she could handle before easing the pressure. The opening of her pussy throbbed around him. He slowly pushed in, each inch parting her slippery walls. Jasmine made Sasha frothy and wide open for him. He stopped and squeezed her neck again, giving shallow thrusts and counting to her limit before releasing the controlled grip.

"Can we keep going? Do you need a break?"

"No Daddy, I can take it a little more. I'll tap you when to stop."

He pushed in to her limit, thick and heavy. Her pussy lips looked like a swollen vise around his girth, with the last of his inches unable to go in. Each time he pushed forward or pulled back, she gripped him with her walls, giving him the friction he dreamed about all weekend waiting to come home.

He began fucking her slowly, his hand clamped on her neck.

"Ready?"

She nodded and he pressed his fingers in again with gentle pressure, heightening her pleasure. Her eyes went glassy with lust. Although he choked her with their breath play, her pussy choked his dick and he released her neck to rock his hips into her with a steady rhythm.

"You feel so fucking good…taking care of Daddy's dick…"

He started kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, letting hers slide against his until the erotic sensation of their lips feeling raw and sensitive to the connection overtook him. Kissing her was life itself. He pulled back from her, still stretching her pussy, but not pumping into her.

"Roderick called me about the cops being here again. There was a warning notice on the door. What do you have to say about that?"

Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip.

"How come you didn't tell me before I left about having people over here?"

"It was impromptu. A few friends, and then…a few more friends of friends…it was a wine and cheese thing and then…the cops showed up."

Terry pulled all the way out of her and left the bed.

"Do we have to talk about this now? Can we finish this and talk later?"

She breathed heavily, upset that his dick wasn't plowing her.

"What do you think will happen if I get another notice?"

She pressed her lips together for a second.

"It won't happen again. I promise."

"You said that last time two weeks ago."

"You won't have to worry. If I want to have a gathering again, I'll do it at Jasmine's. Please, Terry, don't be upset."

"What do I like more than anything at home?"

His hard dick pointed toward her and Sasha's eyes kept losing track of his face by focusing on his erection she wanted back in her guts.

"Peace and calm."

"My neighbor shouldn't be calling me about you. That means it disturbed him, too, and probably a lot of other people. If I get a third notice, the manager will break my lease. You know what that means? He can ask me to move. I picked this complex because it's close to my job. The job that takes care of you, and allows you to be my good girl. You've put our housing in jeopardy. Before I left for work, you were acting out and I didn't have time to really put you in your place. I've been super busy this past month and I think I've been letting you get away with too much. But I'm going to get back to proper discipline. No physical contact at all."

Her mouth dropped open.

"What?" she said.

"Spanking won't do this time. You don't get to have me until I think you get your behavior together."

He walked to his side of the bureau and pulled out lounging pants and a t-shirt. He strolled into the bathroom. She followed with panic in her eyes. He stretched his back and stood in front of the toilet. She reached for his dick to help him urinate, but he slapped her hand away.

"No," he said. "You don't even get to watch."

He arched an angry eyebrow, and she pouted. He ignored her breasts and the fat pussy he'd just been inside of that enticed him to cave.

"Out!"

She scuttled away like a little crab who sensed danger on sand.

He relieved himself and changed into his house clothes.

"I would like my dinner in half an hour," he called out.

He went into the spare bedroom where he set up a mini-gym and desktop computer. He checked sports updates before opening a porn app. His balls ached wanting to cum inside Sasha, but he searched for Black women masturbating and found one using a vibrator with large pussy lips that excited him. Fisting himself, he left the door open so Sasha could hear him and seethe. She slammed the kitchen cabinet doors and let some silverware clatter onto the table to show her anger at not getting his dick. He chuckled.

"Fix that attitude. This is your fault for being irresponsible," he called out.

His porn play pal had nice tits and a soft belly. He came into his hand.

"Your dinner is ready," Sasha called out.

He cleaned his hands in the bathroom and walked into the dining area with his mouth salivating. Smothered chicken and rice with French green beans drenched in garlic butter. Homemade and piping hot.

"This looks good, baby. Thank you."

He sat down and she sat across from him. They said grace together, and he stuffed his face, licking his fingers and complimenting her cooking. That perked her up, and yet she still stared at his chest in the tight T-shirt, and admired the sleeve tats.

He punished her for a month.

Sasha stayed on her A-game. Clean house. Clothes put away properly. Bed made so perfect that he could bounce a quarter on it. Uniforms pressed and already placed in his garment bag. She'd gone to the apartment manager and explained the situation with the loud party. Sasha claimed to be his house sitter who didn't know the rules about no loud noises after nine at night. Terry was pretty sure she jiggled her tits and flirted with the male manager. Her legs in some stiletto heels would do the trick easy. The manager actually ignored the second noise warning…and the first, clearing Terry's apartment record.

In bed, she suffered from wanting to curl under or around him, but he stayed on his side with his back to her. She knew better than to seek out Jasmine for respite. It wouldn't be a satisfying, playful romp when she yearned only for her man's affections. She thought it best to accept the dry spell.

Meals…impeccable.

Cocktails at the door…refreshing.

Terry slowly started showing her physical affection with a kiss on the cheek goodbye in the morning. He brought home flowers and gifts again with kisses on the forehead.

He ended her punishment by walking into the bathroom as she smoothed unscented body butter all over her naked body after a shower. She stared at him in the mirror as he stood behind her. He circled his hand around her throat, forcing her to turn her face to the side so he could kiss her.

Sasha moaned into his mouth and broke into tears of joy.

"I won't disappoint you gain," she whispered into his mouth.

"That's all I want from you, baby. Follow my rules."

He continued kissing her, lifting those glorious breasts.

"Will you fuck me now?" she pleaded.

"Of course."

Sasha whimpered at the deep rasp of his morning voice. She leaned forward, and he entered her. Cupping her breasts, he fucked her hard and fast. Her pussy squelched, and she cried, her tears of happiness wetting her face.

"I'm sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…!"

"Pussy so fucking good…I missed these big titties…tight pussy…oh babygirl…fuck Daddy's dick!"

He studied her expression in the mirror.

"Want Daddy to punish this pussy?"

"Yes!"

"Take this dick then…take it…take it babygirl…oh you're taking it deep…oh shit! Oh, shit!"

She still couldn't take him in all the way, but it truly felt like he got in deeper than he'd been before. Her eyes looked up to the ceiling, then rolled back. She squirted everywhere, soaking his dick.

He ejaculated hard enough to make him lift onto his toes. He dropped to his knees to smother his face in her ass and pussy, wanting to feel the back rush of his cum dripping out of her.

His bladder poked at him. He drank an extra glass of water for the occasion.

"Get in the tub, baby," he said.

Sasha yelped with excited anticipation. She climbed into the tub and he handed her a towel that she folded as a knee cushion. Once she was comfortable, he rested his balls on her mouth and she sucked them while playing with her clit and pussy lips.

"Let me hear that wet pussy, Sasha."

She flicked her clit and used her three middle fingers. He stared down at her, reaching for a heavy breast.

"You ready, baby?"

She hummed with his nuts in her mouth.

"You'll be my dirty little slut? Huh, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy…yes, I'll be your dirty little slut…"

"Oh, let me hear that pussy talk, Sasha!"

Sasha whimpered, and her tone was on the edge.

"Daddy's 'bout to give you what you want…get ready…oh…get ready…"

"I'm still your good girl!"

Her tongue slid up and down the underside of his dick, her words warm on his skin.

"Sasha…baby…fuck…dirty little slut letting me do whatever I want!"

Terry took a step back, and Sasha kept pleasuring her pussy. She tilted her head back. A hot stream of urine flew out of him and splashed all over her breasts. Holding his release for a longer period made the sensation of voiding his bladder sweeter. It felt almost as good as an orgasm soaking her.

Sasha's glassy eyes looked far away. She was in her pleasure zone, cumming so hard she couldn't even speak anymore. He drained himself all over her tits, and she slumped back with loud pants.

"Goddamn, that was fucking good!" he shouted to the ceiling.

His aftercare was tender with her.

He used the shower nozzle to rinse her off first before he cleaned her with honeysuckle body wash. Helping her stand up, he rubbed her vulva, thighs and backside, then lathered up her tits. He rinsed her off, then stuck the nozzle back up high and joined her in the shower for a long rinse with hotter water. They kissed as heat steamed around them, his arms cradling her.

"I don't like punishing you like that. It hurt me not to touch you for a month, baby," he hummed in her ear.

She hugged him tight.

Back in their bedroom, they made slow love on the bed. She rode him and he praised her…worshipped her body.

"I love you, Sasha."

"I love you, too, Terry. I want to make you happy."

"I want to make you happy every day. You're really the boss of me. Everything I do is for you."

"I know. I'm yours, Daddy. Let me take care of this dick."

He held his legs wide open, and she rode him backward, perched between his thighs at an angle. He let her slide up and down to the depths she could take and watched her pussy work his length. She slid back to sit on his face, where he slathered her folds with a wide, wet tongue.

They finished with him on top of her, declaring his undying love. He came all over her breasts, and hugged her tight under the covers, playing with her nipples and making plans for their future.

Terry cooked them a late brunch and cleaned the kitchen himself. Sasha washed clothes and looked up a movie for them to go see. All was well until he went to his sock drawer and found unmatched pairs with underwear mixed in.

"Sasha!"

She sauntered in, carrying one of his belts folded in her hand.

"Shall I assume the position?" she teased.

"Once a brat, always a brat," he said.

He chased Sasha around the room until he caught her, snatching the belt away and pushing her down on his lap.

Terry taught her a new lesson.

And, of course, she loved it.

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[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

The Doctors and their Pokémon

Fugitive Doctor

Zorua

Stoutland

She got the Zorua first; standard issue from Division, carefully trained and maintained like the gun they also gave her, except she named it and talked to it and by the end of the first mission she refused to give it back, and it refused to leave.

Not that she remembered, of course. Not once she had to hide. Its power is partly what made that happen, what let her hide so long; a Zorua and a fobwatch, and a new mundane life of taxes and takeaways and time passing in order. It couldn't stay with her. Once she was squirrelled safely away, the Zorua changed form to an Ampharos, living alone on the coast, faithfully guarding her TARDIS.

She thinks about that sometimes, about the incredible loyalty and love that must have taken; hiding itself for her, yet staying far away, hoping and trusting it could protect and keep safe a trainer that it would never see again. She can't think about it for too long. It overwhelms her.

She loves the Stoutland, but she can't remember why.

First Doctor

Persian

Polteageist

He's trying to be all old and important, like you do when you're young, and so he's drawn to the Pokémon with gravitas; the ones that suggest wealth and sophistication. Susan wants to stay on Earth in the UK in the 60s (something about the music, apparently), and it seems as safe a place as any; and if many of the men in this period conduct themselves in an eerily similar way to the Time Lords, well. It's nothing to do with homesickness. Absolute nonsense. It'll just help him blend in, that's all.

The Persian is elegant and dignified, snooty and superior in a way he likes. It's disdainful of the roster of new companions that Susan somehow brings home, and continue to arrive even after she leaves, and he likes that too (although it does like Barbara, the three of them often sunbathing while Susan and Chesterton go off exploring on new planets, and he likes that best of all.)

The Polteageist has the aura of old and classy, and yet also has an impish, mischievous streak, sometimes trying to trick Chesterfield into drinking from it. The Doctor approves of this jape. Although he really can't be having with any of them, of course, Pokémon OR companions. Things were much simpler when it was just him and Susan.

(He secretly lets the Persian on his bed at night. Barbara pretends she doesn't know, and discreetly brushes the fur off his coat.)

Second Doctor

Chatot

Neither of them will shut the fuck up. This includes when the recorder comes out, and the Chatot tries to harmonise. Zoe finds it charming, and often talks to it, but Jamie finds it noisy and obnoxious. He swore at it in Scots once, but it repeated it to the Doctor, and so Jamie got a row.

It almost gets eaten by a Cyber-mat on Telos, though, and Jamie beats the offending Cyber-mat to death with a brick with surprising verve and venom. After that, he and the Chatot take great delight in lovingly insulting each other.

After the War Games, and the arrival of the Time Lords, the Doctor is forced to part with it. It goes with Jamie, and lives out its days screaming Scots insults at English soldiers in the Highlands, and sometimes singing strange, whistling tunes that Jamie feels he heard somewhere before.

Third Doctor

Aegislash

Porygon Z

The Doctor trained up the Aegislash with the express aim of being able to fence the Master if needed, because he thought it would be more stylish. He's right, too, but Liz swore to herself that she'd rather die than admit that out loud. Of course, the Master then did exactly the same thing, but with a shiny Aegislash. The Doctor sulked for days.

She loved creating the Porygon with him, though (a synthetic Pokémon! What an incredible scientific creation), and she was the one to train it up to a Porygon Z. When Jo comes along, she loves the Porygon Z with her whole heart and soul, but it's always skittish around her clumsy ways. Eventually, they go back to UNIT for a visit, and it leaves to be with Liz. Probably best for everyone.

It makes Jo sad, though. It feels like maybe it was her fault - if she could have befriended it properly, could have been less ditzy, less her, then maybe it would have been happy. The Doctor tells her it was simply better off with its first trainer, that she shouldn't blame herself, but she can't help it. It eats at her, until one evening she's sitting in her room moping and feels a nudge, and when she looks down the Aegislash is gazing up at her, its clumsy sword body incapable of offering proper comfort yet trying anyway. It makes her laugh, touched beyond measure, and it locks eyes with her, spins its back to her, and morphs into defence form, a shield against the world all for her.

After that, she is best friends with it. It spends most of its time on their adventures leaping defensively between Jo and certain doom; the Doctor is only half joking when he tells her it's probably why she survives.

When she meets Cliff and falls in love, leaving the perils of space for the perils of social justice, it goes with her.

The next time the Doctor meets the Master, he uses Venusian aikido. It's more stylish than sword fighting, anyway.

Fourth Doctor

Psyduck

Beeheeyem

Alcremie

It's actually Sarah Jane who brings the Beeheeyem aboard, and Harry who brings the Psyduck; both are accidental acquisitions, with the former being responsible for a mystery that Sarah Jane was investigating and the latter being treated by Harry for a headache, and both just... follow these humans when they try to leave, and refuse to stop doing so even when they enter the TARDIS.

But you wouldn't know it. Beeheeyem and Psyduck both prove to be off-putting weirdos, and keep staring at people unsettlingly; Sarah has to keep her bedroom door locked shut to stop either from getting in after she woke up one morning to find both next to her bed, staring at her while she slept. She'd screamed so loud that Harry had come stumbling in still in his night shirt, blearily looking for an invading alien or something. He'd laughed when he realised, and shooed them out, and helped her install a lock.

And yet... the Doctor apparently enjoys staring unsettlingly back.

Sarah and Harry start keeping a secret spreadsheet; which Pokémon, for how long, who seems to win the staring contest. Sometimes they last for hours. It seems almost meditative. It causes deep bonds to form; fascinatingly, he even seems to understand Beeheeyem's weird finger flashing, which Sarah is fairly certain is unheard of.

The Alcremie was a deliberate acquisition, though. He does have a sweet tooth.

Fifth Doctor

Farfetchd

Hirsuian Voltorb

Tegan mocks him viciously for it, but he's a vain creature with eccentric and rigid aesthetic choices, and the Pokémon help with it. Farfetch'd is very good at accessorising with his celery. And Voltorb is the only thing that ever lets him relax - it is so much easier to play cricket with a ball that bowls itself at you! Nyssa and Tegan approve at first; the Doctor can be abrasive, and neither of them has any interest in cricket.

It also lets him play alone. After Adric, he locks himself into the TARDIS sports hall, and plays and plays and plays.

Sixth Doctor

Bruxish

Galarian Linoone

Eiscue

He bonds with the Bruxish instantly, love at first sight; they share the flashy coat, warning stripes to the world, and the smirking, vicious temperament. It takes Peri weeks to warm to it, and it snaps and strikes every time she gets near; until one day she doesn't move fast enough, and she discovers that the teeth that fully closed about the meat of her upper arm barely grazed across her skin, leaving no mark. It acts positively affronted when she announces it's not so bad after all; but she's no longer fooled.

The Linoone is, not to put too fine a point on it, a little shit. The Doctor spends half his time loudly decrying it as conniving and ungrateful; it waggles its tongue back, making an odd sniggering sound before stealing his socks and other items. But Peri sees him slipping it treats sometimes, sees the little ear scratches, sees the answering hand licks. Like Barbara before her, she pretends not to see.

The Eiscue is called Frobisher. The Doctor names it a companion.

Seventh Doctor

Mimikyu

Mr Rime

Liepard

Ace wonders afterwards, in the years to come, how she didn't see the lies, the manipulation, the depths of his scheming sooner; it was right there in the Doctor's Pokémon, if she'd cared to look. Except she did, actually - that's the worst part, in a way. She did know.

But she never thought it would apply to her. Not... like that. Not that personally.

And that's also down to the Pokémon, probably. The Mr Rime is too knowing in its gaze, a Psychic type that sees right through her; but whenever it sees her unhappy it twirls its cane and hat in an impression of the Doctor to make her laugh. The Liepard is vicious and deceptive, sneaky and shrewd, and yet it curls around her whenever she sits in the chair in her room, purring and rubbing against her. The Mimikyu is more obvious, admittedly - a little nightmare beast in a Pikachu costume, hiding its true nature under an unassuming mask - but, is that more the Doctor, or her?

Perhaps it's both.

Perhaps it's all true. He went too far, with Fenric. Even he knows he did. But like the Pokémon, he still loves her. She's both pawn and daughter to him; a playing piece to use, but also a companion to love. And he does use her, yes.

But he does love her, too.

(It takes too long to realise it. When she leaves, the Mimikyu and the Liepard come with her. The Mr Rime does not, the resemblance too much; and the Doctor understands.)

Eighth Doctor

Slowpoke

Cherrim

It's probably the difficult regeneration; he gets amnesia like humans get colds, the memories slipping away like sand through a fist and leaving him hollow, without an identity to fill the void. It's a lonely thing, amnesia. Oddly, though, it's the times that he does remember that feel the loneliest.

Odder still, it always feels so familiar.

But the Pokémon keep him sane. The Slowpoke is his constant friend, as forgetful as him, its vacant, constant state of mild confusion nonetheless living proof that even without the memories, he can still be him, whoever that may be. Amnesia is lonely, yes; but here is a creature going through the same thing, and ultimately, they are in it together at least.

The Cherrim is different. It cloaks itself often, hunkering down against the darkness of a non-existent storm, and he knows that sensation. But then the sun shines, and the Cherrim opens up into its delighted cheerful dance, and the Doctor thinks, yes. This too shall pass. And there is joy when it does.

War Doctor

Yveltal

It's wrong. He knows it's wrong.

He doesn't have any others. No family, no companions, no Pokémon. None left now; and if there were, he's about to sacrifice them anyway. Best to keep it simple.

He thinks of Ace. He thinks of Susan. He thinks of keeping it simple and of I went too far and of a thousand other things; Sarah Jane, and Barbara brushing his coat, and playing cricket endlessly with a Voltorb in lieu of thinking of anything at all, and if he doesn't do this wrong thing, this awful thing now, none of them will have ever lived.

On a broken planet at the end of existence, there are Dalek ships in the sky.

They are hidden by the unfurling wings of Yveltal.

Ninth Doctor

Trubbish

Cubone

He's a nine hundred year old alien and Rose is aware that she herself is a teenager who still can't quite get her brain to accept 'woman' instead of 'girl'; and yet, within minutes of meeting the Doctor, all she can see is a broken child.

He hides it, almost. The face he shows the world is definitely stern and moral and hardened. He's sharp tongued even while actually sympathising with abused and downtrodden aliens and young Welsh psychics. But his trauma responses are totally off, he's far too quick to risk his life, and the day he has her at gun point, telling her to move so he can murder a Dalek and she says no, he shatters at her feet like glass.

But it's in his Pokémon too. The Trubbish is a surprise, until she thinks about it - you don't need to know him for more than... oh, five minutes tops before you realise that he will see the value and worth of every lifeform to exist, even - especially - ones that others don't. It's the Trubbish, it's the Gelth, it's a lonely Slitheen fugitive, a bio-engineered woman in a machine; for lack of a better word, the Doctor sees humanity even where you couldn't imagine it.

The Cubone weeps, mourning a loss it simply cannot heal alone. Rose catches them sometimes, sitting in the console room at 'night', the Cubone on the Doctor's lap and both crying silently as they stare at things she cannot see.

The day it evolves is a turning point. She sees the cracks begin to seal.

Tenth Doctor

Luvdisc

Goodra

Wobbuffet

Oricorio (pom pom)

He gets the Luvdisc for Rose, of course.

It's a silly thing, caught from the beach on Woman Wept; it was there, and the locals told them it was good luck, and it had made her eyes light up and he'd thought in that moment that he'd do anything to see that look in her eyes.

And then he loses Rose, and the grief leaves him breathless. There are days he cannot get his lungs to move quite right, and he lies in bed with his hands on his hearts, trying to find a stable pace to breathe. He knows he has to move on. Rose showed him that.

(He cannot even look at the Luvdisc now.)

So he's back to work, and then there's Martha; clever, wonderful Martha, quick witted and whip-smart and resourceful. She's the one who brings the Goodra aboard, actually. It was being neglected by its trainer, fed and trained and put to battle but never given the affection the species needs, and he'd beamed and said it was a good job it had her, then.

Fuck, he was so stupid with Martha. So blinded by his own grief, so trapped in his own head, so stupid. It was all right in front of him. But he'd been so alone for so long, had believed himself so unworthy, and then Rose came along and he'd dared to believe he could be loved, could be happy, could be so unfathomably lucky, and then suddenly it was gone, and he simply couldn't conceive of anyone else seeing what Rose saw.

The guilt had struck right in the solar plexus as Martha spelled out her departure. But his admiration for her, for her strength of character, could not possibly have been higher. She took the Goodra; he expected that.

But she also took the Luvdisc. "It deserves better, too," she told him, with a gentleness he didn't deserve.

The Wobbuffet came the day he re-met Donna. It was unclear why Kovarian had it, but as soon as they reunited, miming a conversation through two windows on opposite sides of a room, the Wobbuffet had slowly rotated to stare at each of them, transfixed. By the time the Doctor and Donna had made it into the same window basket, the Wobbuffet was somehow also there. After that, it came with them.

Between the three of them, they have a single braincell. On some days, it appears none of them are using it. But the Wobbuffet proves extremely useful, especially when protecting Donna from giant Beedrills.

They get the Oricorio as a giveaway from Ood Operations at the corporate open day; it keeps dancing to the Ood Song. It also hype dances every time Donna goes shopping, so she falls in love.

He leaves her with both in the end. If he can't be with her, at least they can.

Eleventh Doctor

Rowlet

Smoochum

Drifloon

Amy gets him the Rowlet. She says they have the same stupid dress sense, so maybe they can cry for help together. The Doctor is delighted, and takes great care of Rowlet's little bow tie.

The Drifloon, though, he tries not to think about. He's aware that he's seeing a lot of his companions and his wife as children. He's aware that it's weird, okay? He knows. He's also heard the old wives tale of Drifloons wanting to steal children, and how they Just Know who to follow sometimes to make that happen. But that way madness lies, so... don't think about it? Don't even think about it. Old wives tale. Anyway, it's too light to actually carry off a child, it's fine.

The Smoochum is on the nose, though. Of course it's River who gets it for him. "I thought a baby Pokémon would suit you," she coos. "See you next time, sweetie! Smooches!"

He wants to kill her.

Twelfth Doctor

Noctowl

Metagross

As ever, the Noctowl is Clara's idea. She tells him it looks like him. He hisses back that she's trying to look like a Gardevoir, but it's ineffective and stupidly mean and then the Noctowl follows him anyway. He catches sight of them in a mirror, and is even more annoyed when he realises she's right - the damn thing is even mirroring his expressions.

But the Metagross is his. It's clever, is the thing - four brains mean it's practically a super computer, and it's vicious in a way he relates to, and also, it has a St Andrews Cross over its face that makes him think of the accent that came with this face.

Bill asks him about that once.

"Lots of planets have a Scotland," he says.

Thirteenth Doctor

Stufful

Altaria

Maushold

She was too closed off last time, she thinks. She can tell; she hasn't been this clingy, this desperate for companionship, in a long time. And it's not a conscious choice, of course, that was more Romana's thing, but... Sometimes, the regenerations give you what you need.

That's how she gets the Stufful, a cuddly creature that just wants love. It's also how the Maushold evolves, she's pretty sure - it happens not long after Ryan calls Graham his Granddad, and the Doctor feels like her hearts could burst, she's so happy for them, and then when she goes to feed the Pokémon there are too many mice gazing up at her.

But the Altaria evolves not long after she and Yaz... realise.

She's not surprised. Attachment terrifies her now. She can't even think about Rose, about the Luvdisc, about Donna, about River. She's terrified of losing Yaz like that.

The Altaria sails serenely up in the sky, high and carefree, and the Doctor dreams of flying.

Fourteenth Doctor

Wishiwashi

Oricorio (sensu)

Klefi

The Wishiwashi happens immediately. He has rarely identified with something more; it battles with its armour, all the bodies and souls of its companions, and it uses them up until they're all gone and what's left is weak and useless and weeping at the horror of the world -

And then Donna's back, and she remembers. Fuck, she remembers. He's dreamed and dreamed and here it is.

The Oricorio is different now. It once flapped yellow wings like pom poms, joy and delight. Now lilac feathers like fans dance a mournful dance, a reminder of all that's lost. And yet...

Donna remembers.

"You're staggering, Doctor," she whispers. "Come home."

And finally... he does.

It can't be forever. He'll outlive them all, eventually. He knows this. But for now, this is what he needs.

A home with a family. His best friend, platonic soulmate, safe and sound; Wilf and the moles out the back; Mel at his side, finding their feet together; his vibrant and beautiful niece, the new and perfect owner of the old Wobbuffet.

The night he moves into the house that is now his, he takes out the keys to his new home, and discovers they are harbouring a tiny Klefki.

Fifteenth Doctor

Gardevoir (male)

Oricorio (baile)

It's a brand new life, a brand new universe, full of possibilities and wonder and so much to explore, and the Doctor does not know where to begin.

He brought one thing from his bi-generated self. The Oricorio is much happier now, its feathers a fabulous red and ready to party. The night he meets Ruby in the club it's him and the Oricorio in the press of bodies, somehow making space as they twirl round and round on the dark dancefloor, feathers and kilt flaring around them both in the heat and euphoria of the moment.

The Gardevoir was Rogue's. He'd been on Rogue's spaceship, and had immediately started dancing to Kylie, much to the Doctor's amusement and Rogue's irritation. Afterwards, the Doctor hadn't been able to leave him. Hadn't wanted to - the Gardevoir is gloriously stylish, with a sort of gender-bending aesthetic that the Doctor adores these days.

And he remembers. "It deserves better too," Martha had told him once, several lifetimes ago. He does not want to repeat those mistakes.

He keeps the Gardevoir, and the Oricorio too; and he chooses to remember what he once tried to forget.

[theyluvivi]

OVER THAT, OR TRYING TO BE. client!chris.

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ: angst. a shit ton.

You're smart.

You have the brain and the grades to prove it... just whatever has been in the air these past two weeks is making you feel like you're the stupidest person on earth. You don't do guys, hookups, or relationships, period for that matter. Yet here you are, sobbing hysterically into your pillow over a guy you barely know.

That's the most embarrassing part about this whole thing. You've talked at most five times, and now tears are pouring down your cheeks, and you can barely breathe.

You've tried to act like you don't care, tried open your laptop and the many assignments that are that stacking up but you can't—Every moment you don't spend thinking about him just brings you back to him. The way he looked at you, his hands on you, the way he talked to you. Nothing works or helps.

Happy music doesn't help. Weed is a temporary fix. Eating takes too much energy—And god forbid you talk to your friends about this. They warned you about him, how he makes girls fall for him and leaves them like they're nothing, but you still kissed him like it was your honeymoon.

Chris didn't leave you like you were nothing. He was nice about it, which is what makes it hurt more. You clutch at your chest, god it feels like you're fucking dying.

The only person you've told is Matt, because you physically can't tell anyone else. And for someone who plays with people's feelings, he accepted yours with open arms.

"....s' not your fault, y'know? The heart wants what it wants....and all that stuff." You let out a sad giggle. "Yeah, but it's definitely not happening, and I've heard how he is to girls, so I shouldn't even try to make it happen." You sniffle and rub at your eyes. "Kid..." He searches for anything in his thoughts to make you feel better but can't find anything. He knows how Chris is.

"Cmere." He opens his arms, far and wide for you. You don't get Matt hugs often, so immediately run into his arms. "You'll get through this... you're strong." You can tell he doesn't what he's saying, but you appreciate the effort. You nuzzle into his chest. "Thank you, Matt."

You haven't taken your shirt off since then, hoping the reminder of Matt's hug will help you calm down. It hasn't, but you can still hope.

Even over your loud cries, you can hear someone knocking at the door. You're not selling... unless it's to friends. You sit up slowly, trying to avoid upsetting the pounding headache you have already from crying even more. You run your hands through your hair. If it's a friend, they would've at least texted you so then....

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Matt knows you're not anyway near in a suitable condition to see Chris, and he still sent him over. You bury your face in your hands as the knocking persists. You haven't looked in the mirror in days, and your eyes are probably all red and puffy... why couldn't he have come earlier when you were acting like you didn't care?

You let a soft breath, trying to breathe normally after all the hyperventilating you've been doing. You finally get up from your bed and head to the door. Pretend you don't care, pretend you don't care, pretend you don't care—Is what you repeat to yourself as you twist the knob.

You crack the door open. "M' not selling." Chris tilts his head. "Thought we got over this whole you hating me thing?" He smirks, "I also just saw Quen walking out of here."

You huff, opening the door. "Come in." You're doing better than you thought. You thought you'd see him and immediately crumble to the floor. Chris takes in your colorful apartment as you close the door behind him. "What?"

"Looks like a unicorn threw up in here." You narrow your eyes at him. " 'S a compliment...it's so... you." Your heart jumps. "I live here." You sigh, rolling your eyes. "What do you need?"

"What I always need." You don't miss the way he steps closer to you. You feel bile rising in your throat. "Can't sleep again. I need one of your fairy joints to help me." You groan. He knows it pisses you off when you he calls them that. "Quen bought the last one, sit." You gesture to the couch, "No tour?"

You scoff. "You're lucky I even let you in."

Chris is like a toddler. He refused to leave you alone, in the comfort of your own room for five minutes, so you're sitting across from him on the couch as you roll him what he apparently came for.

You're finding it harder and harder to believe that he's staring you down like you're a piece of steak, and he's starving. His hand creeps up your thigh. You want to let him get away with it, "Chris?"

"Yeah?" You finally finish rolling, your acrylics giving you a break. "You didn't just come here for this, did you?" You wave the joint in his face, a smile finding its way onto your face for the first time in days. It's a sad one.

"You sayin' something?" He smirks, you begin to crawl towards him after the placing the joint behind your ear. "And if I am?" He pulls you into his lap, and you missed that, dearly. The feeling of his hands roaming over your body. You can feel tears beginning to weal up in your eyes. This is the most pathetic you've ever felt.

It's terrible. He's terrible.. But you want it, so bad. "Mhn...then you're right." And his lips are on yours, and you expect to be rough—you want it to be rough, but it's slow and sensual just the way you need. Tears trickle down your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away before Chris opens his eyes.

His hands find their way under your shirt, slipping up to the clip of your bra. "You want this?" He asks, and you nod immediately.

It's okay if he sees you as nothing more than a quick fuck, if he doesn't care about you and only wants you for weed, if he doesn't want a relationship and just needs another girl to run to. You need this.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizmez @sosasturns @drewswife @strnilolover @cvnts4demi

a/n: .... :(

[towasdandelion]

Asking Vagastrom and Sinostra ghouls "Do you know what bees make?"

Old but gold, let's see how the ghouls would react! For this one, this is the stage where you both have a crush on each other but neither of you confessed yet.

Leo just rolls his eyes. He can't believe you got him so easily. He needs to remember not to let his guard around you too much. If you want to embarrass him, he'll just have to return the favor sorry I don't make the rules. And you don't know how many compromising pics of you he actually has..

Alan just sits there, staring at the screen. It takes him a whole minute to process what just happened. And when he does, he simply congratulates your wit. He never really used any petnames before but somehow it didn't feel as bad, even if he got tricked into it. But that's just mainly due to the fact that he likes you a lot.

As corny as it is, the realization makes Sho smile. But he's not going to let you embarrass him like that. Two can play this game, and that's exactly what he intends to do. He can't help but wonder when you will notice him in a way he'd want to.

Congratulations, you flustered him! Ritsu is so glad you can't see his face right now, because his usual stoicism is crumbling at your silly joke. He tries to maintain his composure but eventually just makes up an excuse, just so he can be left alone and process the impact you have on him..

I'm afraid it takes a moment for Taiga.. but honestly, you're lucky he even replies to your silly texts. If not for the fact he actually really likes you he'd most likely just block your number. He does find it amusing when he finally gets it, but he already has the perfect petname for you. And it's not changing.

Oh, Romeo. He fights so hard with himself, he really does. Not like you affected him with a stupid joke, not at all. Well that's what he says to himself, but it's not true in the slightest. The fact you can get under his skin so easily doesn't sit right with him. He is the Romeo Scorpius Lucci after all!

[tinysheepcrusade]

Violet Times

Short Sevika Smut Blurb

No amount of planning could have prepared you for this. Your hand shakes as it pulls the key out the third lock on the door. You'd been with your wife for so long and she had trained you for this day, yet with her discipline, and unusually gentle nature towards only you, you'd never really expected this to happen. 

The door knob jiggles, a few bangs, and then silence. You're almost worried enough to check, almost. You remember her telling you not to fall for her little tricks. She’d use your empathy against you, whatever it took to get into that room. 

“Angel, it's okay…the shimmers almost worn off. I just want to sleep the rest off.”

You’re still frozen sitting on the floor in complete shock “Then sleep on the couch, there's a blanket and everything…”

It's not clear if she's aware you can hear the feral growl she lets out from the other side. “You know my back doesn't do well out there-”

“Then go find a hotel to stay at, you know as well as I do you weren't supposed to come home this early, and definitely not…like this.” You try to avoid saying anything that could trigger her, yet she's still in the hallway, her deep voice trying to pull you out of safety. 

“How cruel~” 

The doorknob begins to shake again and it takes a second to recognize what she's doing. 

“Sevika no! Stop it, you've got so much shimmer in your system you are acting insane!” You shout in a mild panic. Your hands attempt to stop the handle from shaking back n forth but it's not long before you hear a click. The handle turns successfully but the door doesn't open. Courtesy of the two other locks Sevika installed herself while in her right mid. “Put that damn bobby pin away and get the hell out!” When she notices how close to the door you are her hand shoots underneath it, attempting to grab your ankle, she only narrowly misses and you kick her away. 

“Y/N-” your name falls breathy from her lips. “I just wanna see my sweet wife…wanna make her feel good.” 

“...Should have thought of that when you caught me earlier, if you wanted me that badly you shouldn't have been so easily baited into letting me go.” You can't help but mock the situation. For all the drugs she had in her system, she still couldn't help but listen to your every word when you batted your eyelashes at her. “Now politely piss off until you've calmed down.” 

The door bangs against the frame a few more times and for a second you question if it's going to hold. You didn't think anything could scare you more than the borderline animalistic sounds she was huffing out, until she started laughing like a cartoon villain. 

“Oh doll.” Her metal hand scratches against the wood, slow. A sharp noise hisses into the air. Like nails on a chalkboard. “Either way this ends with you fucked out underneath me, yeah?” She groans. Even through the door the familiar sound of her belt hitting the ground isn't lost on you. “This shimmer in my system doesn't change the fact my fingers belong between your legs, pumping in and out, infact with this running through my veins I bet you I can move my hand faster than those little vibrators of yours. G-gonna make you scream my name sweetheart~”

“Sevika…enough.” The only thing stopping your core from heating up at her words was pure concern for her wellbeing. “Listen to your wife and go get some water and lay down…”

“No.” Another bang of the door. “I already decided the only drink I want is between your legs. Only place I plan to sleep is next to you.” 

“Damnit.” You curse. It almost might be better to ignore her, yet you feel obligated to try to persuade her to make better choices. “Your not fucking me tonight so your just wasting y-” Another jolt of the door befuddles you, it's a rhythmic slam, not as loud as the others but still powerful enough to make you wonder if the door would hold. You may have never even noticed what she was doing until the filthiest groan leaves her throat. “Sevika I know you aren't thrusting against the door!”

Another groan, even deeper than last time. “Gonna shove my cock so deep in you that you feel it in your stomach Y/N~” Sevika punctuates your name with a particular hard thrust. “Keep you pinned down on your back and make you watch me get off to the way you helplessly fall apart-” Thrust “Your mouth can lie but that gorgeous body of yours isn't capable of that sweetheart, just-” The thrusting picks up to a speed your positive you can't handle. “Open. The. Door.”

It's taking everything in your soul to not panic, this wasn't normal behavior from her or anyone for that matter. All responses have long left your mind and you sit in silence, eventually, even she stops and you pray she's given up but her voice picks up through the door once more. 

And God does she sound pissed. 

“For every time I ask and have asked you to open this door is one time I'm going to wring an orgasm from you, let's assume we're at around five now.” She hums. 

“Vika…”

“Baby~”

“Make as many threats as you want, that door ain't opening, for every time you ask adds an hour to your outside timer…let's assume you're at six~” you mock. 

Sevikas fist slams into the door. “Have it your way then but I don't wanna hear any complaints or begging if you start to see heaven, woman.”

You genuinely snort at her frustration. “Okay Vika see you tomorrow!”

No response. 

Finally, you think. She's given up and gone to rest like she should have from the beginning. You wander off to go take a shower, enjoying the loud music blaring in your ears. You finish your nighttime routine and skip back into the bedroom for your peaceful night alone, just you, your soap operas-

And the bright purple eyes staring at you from the darkness, the single window open wide behind them. 

-

Note: Hope you enjoyed and Yes I'm still working on the second chapter for the other Sevika fic but this was stuck in my nogging taking up space so I had to get it out~

[vvifeys]

vi helping the reader learn to fight ! maybe the reader is a little discouraged

eventually.

modern!au vi. no tw, just vi training reader to fight. a/n: i dont know the first thing about fighting, i apologize if this is incorrect or sounds weird in any way.

that was the fourth time you'd fallen on your ass trying to block the same attack vi kept throwing at you, this was hopeless. she had made it her life's mission to teach you how to fight like it was the last thing she'd ever do.

you weren't sure where this sudden obsession had come from, but she kept telling you that she just wanted to make sure you'd be safe if she wasn't around. trying to convince vi otherwise was like trying to convince a brick wall to move out of your way. you decided to just let her try and teach you, despite your assurances you'd never manage to learn anything.

"you need to keep your feet further apart. they're too close together, that's why you keep falling." vi repeated for the fifth time. she didn't sound frustrated yet, but you could see the slight furrow in her brow.

"i'm telling you, it feels weird to stand like that. i can't stay in that position." you insisted, standing back up with the help of your girlfriend.

"okay... lets try something else. you attack me, alright? i want you to grab my hand when i punch, pull me forward, and push me to the ground. do that fast enough and your enemy wont have time to realize what you're doing." vi explained, setting her feet apart. she gestured for you to get in position.

you shook your head, sighing as you mimicked her stance. you hand your hands up, a determined look on your face. you could do this, all you had to do was grab her hand and drag her to the floor. couldn't be that hard, right?

vi threw her punch. it was quicker than you expected, you flinched back. your hands flew to cover your face, eyes squeezing shut, waiting for a blow that never came. whenever you opened your eyes and moved your hands, you were faced with vi's fist just sitting there. you looked past her arm, down at her face that had a mild look of disappointment.

"babe, this is useless. i told you, im not a fighter. we've been doing this for how long? and i still can barely throw a punch and land it, much less with enough force to actually do anything. why are you so determined?" you say, feeling frustrated tears well up in your eyes. vi noticed this too, of course she did- she was always attentive, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

"look, i just want you to be safe. im not always gonna be here if something happens, and i worry about you. especially whenever you go out. im not doing this to make you upset or frustrate you or whatever-" vi's thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping a few stray tears. "i just wanna help. you got this, you just gotta be patient. do you wanna keep going?"

you hesitated a little. you kept your head in her hands as you took a second to think, your eyes tracing all over her face. after getting lost thinking about how much you adored your lover, you'd nodded. "i'll get it eventually."

this was way way shorter than i expected it to be, but as i said... i know nothing about fighting so i didn't wanna prolong this 😭 thank you for the request, i hope i did you justice!!

[bitter-me]

Hello! could you do Asaba Harumasa with A Loid Forger!Male!Reader who is his Fiancé? (For real not for a misson) And could you do like some general headcanons of it please?

Spy X Executive Officer

Harumasa Asaba | M. Reader as Loid Forger [SpyXFamily]

----------

"You gotta be careful. Because there's someone else back home who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to you."

----------

General Headcanons

First of all, the moment you two met Harumasa knew you are a spy. Come on now, he's responsible for Section 6's reconnaissance for a reason. In the main story he literally recognized the mercs are closing in on them by their shooting pattern alone. Are you kidding me.

Secrets out and from then on he'll rub it in your face that the Twilight was caught by an Executive Officer and through this process of endless teasing and "accidental meet ups" you two gotten quite close.

Yet despite making teasing the absolute daylight out of you his main mission. Harumasa would always comes to you for help with some missions of his. Come on! He has Twilight on speed dial! What kind of person would he be if he didn't abused use this power? The amount of times you have to pretend to be him for a meeting... too much to even bother counting..

Harumasa seems to have developed a habit since you two got together. One of which is how he looks like a wounded animal whenever you have to "be in a relationship" with someone. He's joking of course. But always seem to jump at the chance whenever Harumasa saw it.

But then again.. you're also using him for your own work as well. HAND has a lot of useful information and Departments. Having an insider on speed dial just make things ten times easier. In short both of you are using each other.. until it became something more as you two craves more with each interactions.

"You're cheating on me! I know I don't have much time, yet you--" "Darling, I am not seeing someone behind your back, it was a mission. We have this conversation before."

Endless teasing. Just endless.

By the way, are you a cat person? Well it doesn't matter you are a cat person now. Say hello to your son/daughter. Harumasa canonically has a cat, so..

Would jokingly as you to teach him some espionage with the excuse that it'll help him be a "more outstanding scout." You didn't, of course. Espionage is your thing. As if you'll let him steal your thunder like that.

Oh no. Harumasa isn't in the office again. He must have taken a sick leave. But how could he get another one? What? He has a doctor's note?

Yes, he would probably, maybe, say "please" a lot, just to get you to write him a doctor's note. Hey! Not his fault that your public image is a Psychiatrist! That just makes your notes 100% legal! And you are this awesome boyfriend of his right? So.. please~ he promise to give you kisses if you do write it~

Although Harumasa seems to know he can't use this trick a lot and uses it sparingly.

The proposal? It's the grenade proposal. I'm sorry but it's cute and it kinda fits ZZZ's world building. Both of you are running from the Ethereals and have gotten cornered. What a bad day it was. You were just about to propose when Harumasa got a call for a mission, since you don't want to waste any time. You decided to help your lover so that you can finally propose when all of these are done. But no, the universe hates you and decided to do this instead and damnit! You lost the ring! Cornered with nowhere else to go you spotted a grenade not to far away. Acting out of instincts you took it, pulling the pin and saying your vow as you put the "ring" on Harumasa's finger.

He ruthlessly tease you about the proposal though. Saying something like "Took you long enough. And here I thought I would die first before knowing the feeling of a ring on my finger." and, "A grenade pin? Seriously? How come those men and women you "marry" for a mission gets an actual ring while I--you're actual lover--only have this? I'm hurt!"

In the end you did get him an actual ring. As he deserved.

----------

Despite usually being seen slacking off. Harumasa works hard on his missions. After all, there's a reason as to why he's a member of Section 6. Naturally.

Yet he's not invincible. Harumasa knows that better than anyone else. Which is why he is now lying in the hospital bed with a sore throat and a heavy chest. It felt as if he were to somehow lie in a wrong way he'll start coughing out a lung. But he doesn't have to worry. He has [Name}. And that man would go full on doctor on him in a heartbeat.

"You're an idiot sometimes." [Name] sighs, sitting on the chair by his lover's bedside. He can't believe Harumasa had willingly injected that thing. Onto him like that. Sure, he understands. Harumasa can't let that thing exist in the world. But seriously?! Did he even think for one second what could have happened to himself if he weren't this lucky?! What if it's a one time thing?!

"You idiot." He whispers underneath his breath.

Harumasa really has to be careful.. because there's someone else back home who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to him.. and that person, is him. [Name] Forger.

For all of his time as a spy. No one had ever made him feel so.. complete. The thought of settling down never crossed his mind. But with Harumasa.. he might just consider it. But..

How is he supposed to settle when the one he loves is constantly on death's door?

[Name] snapped out of his thoughts the moment he registered the warm feeling on his hand. Harumasa's on top of his. Turning his head towards him, [Name] saw Harumasa giving him a reassuring smile. "I know.. but I'm your idiot."

"Don't worry too much. I'm not going anywhere. After all, no one cares more about my life than me."

[mechanical-sunchild]

I'll not get defensive (again) and admit that yes I think you're right.

It becomes disheartening to see a lot of physical alterhumans speaking in earnest about how outcast they feel and how they do indeed feel like they're being told 'shut up, that's not real, you just can't be that'.

Which by and large I think is because many think that any mention of the physical being different gives them free reign to be as rude and dismissive of the experiences posted as possible and to do things like decide for the community what we're really experiencing and what we should actually call it with no input from physical alterhumans ourselves. And when we give input, the 'impossibility' of our experience and p-shifting is used as the dead horse to beat us with.

So when I saw mentions of the same I had just had enough but this was probably a 'get your own post bub' kind of situation and I apologise.

I'm sure the present company in this post knows the difference between asking deeper questions to determine why someone is saying they are what they are, what their experience is, why they say it is etc just to gain understanding and promote discussion unfortunately it's not a skill many have.

The very same thing did happen for fictionkin and it was equally unpleasant and caused a lot of fictionkin to hide themselves for a long time. I don't want to see that happen again.

For as much as physical alterhumans need to be shown that some doubt, curiosity or want for proof isn't harmful or dismissive I think others need to be taught how to ask questions and what is just plain rude to do. I've yet to see, for example, a non-physical alterhuman defend a physical alterhuman from someone who is just suddenly dismissing their whole experience as false 'because science', which I hope would happen.

So it ends up just feeling like 'us versus them' which as I mentioned is currently taking up so much time that the physical alterhuman community isn't talking amongst itself, working on language, origins, reasons, possibilities and red flag behaviour that shouldn't be encouraged. It's not impossible for others outside of the community to help us find our feet but gosh are many just being plain rude. No wonder it's so easy to feel like we're just being told to shut up!

Ok I'm rambling again, just going to leave by saying I am not against reasonable doubt or people not fully believing what doesn't sit with them right I just think a lot of people are just being rude and dismissive and making physical alterhumans feel hunted right now and that's stopping a lot of progress. Next time I will just get my own post.

If you’re going to assert science in a community full of people discussing their scientifically unverifiable experiences I think you should consider what you’re really trying to say. If you’re not trying to call people liars then there’s probably a better way to go about making your point than enumerating the reasons why you think they’re lying.

[appleblueberry-pie]

currently going insane over the lack of Yandere!Armin x reader, please deliver 😭🙏

I Know You Like You Know Me

In which Armin Arlert is getting ready to confess to his friend that is also his muse and he secretly calls his lover. He was very patient and articulated very carefully how he decided to approach you with his obsession over you for so long, until one day you call him out on his behavior. He tries to cover his tracks, but you aren't one to fool.

Text Breaker by @cafekitsune

wc: 3,703 words. i needed this badly. thanks for the request.

Armin told himself to give it a few days before he confesses. And usually he would take the first chance possible to talk to you if he picked up on something that needed communicating for. But this was bigger than just a simple argument. Bigger than needing help with homework or finding out how you're going to pay off your tuition, because all of these things he knows how to control and handle. He always finds a way to make things right for you. But this...he can't control this. All these years of studying your mind, your actions and little habits, he doesn't know if you'll give a promising yes. He needs a yes from you. He needs you to need him. Just giving basic interest is enough to please him. Fuck, just giving him a chance is all he needs to show you he's everything you'd ever want and need.

For the millionth time that day, he fiddles with his fingers, staring at the ground in deep thought. "Armin...?" The sound of a familiar saccharine voice has him pulling his head up to the sight of you. The worry melts off his face and, instead, paint a natural smile. "Y/n....I didn't realize your class was over yet. I would've met you by the door." He stands to offer his seat to you. You accept and go to sit down, feeling him take your backpack from off your shoulders. "Oh, you don't have to." "No, no, it's fine." He puts it on for you and watches you watch him. He shoves his hands in his pocket to not embarrass himself and feels heat on his neck when you don't break eye contact. "Are you alright? I tried texting you a few minutes before my class ended and you didn't respond. You looked worried when I found you." He shakes his head. "No, I'm totally fine. I promise. Just thinking about if you ate anything yet," He lies. You look up in thought. "Oh, okay. Oh...yeah, I didn't eat anything today." Armin's smile drops and he pulls you to your feet to drag you in the direction of the cafeteria. "What? Why not? Didn't you eat the breakfast I packed for you?" He gives you a concerned look and you remember finding the randomly placed hot meal in your dorm room this morning. You meant to ask him about that. "Wait, that was you? How did you even get into my dorm-" "You need to eat at least three meals a day. This is why you have headaches, right?" He takes you through the cafeteria doors and you purse your lips at him dodging the question. His hand went from your arm to your hand, holding it like it was meant to be there.

He's been throwing you off these past few weeks. And you want to drop it because he is your friend and you've known him for so long. But you catch him staring at you. Hard. It's always when you're not looking and he thinks you're unaware of it, but his gaze is too strong to ignore even if you wanted to. You also know he overthinks everything you tell him because when you tell him about your classes(the only time you're NOT together), you watch him think over your words as if he's playing it in his head. Like he was there when it happened and was trying to see if your memory was correct. Not only that, certain problems have been reoccurring. And for some reason, these creepy things keep happening to you and it always seems too conveniently strategized, like it was specifically meant to happen to you, for you, like the person knew you. You don't even like thinking too hard about the details, knowing how you get when you're paranoid. And the only person you can tell about your issues is Armin. But what if.....

There's a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of you. Armin placed it there. He also has a plate, but his doesn't look as good as yours. Gravy sits on top of the mashed potatoes, so beautifully plated. You got a better slice of meatloaf than him. He stares at you, waiting for you to start eating. You pick up your fork and knife, beginning to eat. It's better than you thought and you realize you did need this. He starts eating when you do.

"I know you didn't eat earlier too." "It's not about me." You give him a stern look. He smiles at you. You sink back into your thoughts while you eat and Armin quickly catches onto your silence. He stares at your blank face. He wants to disrupt your peace, but you've already had a long day.

The rest of the day is spent the same way it was yesterday and the day before. Wake up, go to classes, text Armin between classes, meet at the end of your last class, eat, go back to either yours or his dorm to study, talk, go to bed, repeat. If he wasn't so adamant of sticking together all the time, you would probably have more friends and wouldn't be stuck on campus all of the time. As messed up as that sounds, it's true.

The clock on your wall goes twice as slow as you count down the seconds that this "mandatory" study session takes to end. You knew about this chapter already, having studied it over the weekend when you woke up earlier than you usually would. You watch Armin point at the sentence mentioning something important that you don't really care about anymore and you look up at him. He's already looking at you, waiting for you to show that you understood the words coming out of his mouth.

".....Yeah." He smiles and nods, moving onto the next page. You interrupt his focus, calling out to him, "Um...I think I'm ready to take a break now." He doesn't lift his head from the textbook, pointing a finger up, "..Okay, just in a few minutes, it's a little more in this section that I want to make sure you understand." Before you could control it, you heaved a sigh, shoulders slouching. You hated when he made you do things on his terms. It felt way too controlling and you were beginning to get sick of it. His head snaps up at the sound you make, silence filling the room. You don't look at him, focusing your eyes on the desk in front of you.

"We can take a ten minute break."

He closes the textbook and runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I guess I just got a little too deep into the material for a second." He awkwardly smiles, expecting you to respond. But you don't say anything in return. He hesitates, but eventually looks over at you, watching you scroll on your phone. He didn't like your silence. He usually can correctly predict you filling in the silence whenever you feel like you have to. But now, you aren't really responding to anything he's saying and he doesn't know what to do. "Did I do something wrong?"

You put your phone down and look over at him. "You've been pretty controlling lately." His heart drops at your words and he automatically sits up straighter. "W-well, I just....have been trying to make sure that you're on the right track recently. You know, with midterms coming up, responsibilities are-" "Okay, yeah. But you're not my parent or anything. We're both grown adults here." Your face is like stone, unmoving, stern and....intimidating. Armin clenches his jaw. Why are you looking at him like this? Talking to him like this? Is he not being a good lover friend?

More silence between the two of you fills the air. Armin's stomach begins to turn.

"....Sorry. I just want to look out for you. I didn't mean for it to come out any other way. I just...care. That's all." You purse your lips before returning to your phone. Armin averts his gaze and finds himself messing with his fingers. How long has he been doing that? He clenches his hands to attempt to hide his nervousness and stares down at the textbook on the table. This wasn't going to be a good look on him. How is he going to confess when you look at him like that? He's never gotten that from you before. Maybe it's something you two need to discuss later on. Yeah. He'll give this a few days to settle. And if it comes up again, he'll find a way to make it up to you. It just....can't happen now. Not when he's so close to getting you to be his.

The rest of the night passes with the usual routine. By the time you're done getting ready for bed, Armin finished dropping all of his things off at his dorm. He takes a deep breath, sitting on his bed. He needs to go to sleep. He lays down on his bed, on top of the covers, still fully clothed and an arm over his eyes. He's tired and completely drained from today. He needs to go to sleep. Images of you flash in his mind. You eating. Your enticing gaze. Your frown. Your pouting. Your smile. Your smell. He needs to go to sleep. He clenches his jaw, imagining holding you in a tight hug, your body molding perfectly into his, your warmth in his hands and the smell of you imprinting on his brain. Everyday, you remind him of why he's crazy over you and you don't even have to try too hard. He just wants you all to himself.

I need to go to sleep, he tells himself as he speeds towards your room again. He timed it perfectly last time. He knows your full night routine takes about forty minutes. And he surely spent every single one of those minutes thinking to himself how soft your lips taste and how your hands feel on him. His body feels numb, but fully functioning. Blood rushing through his veins, making him sweat at just the thought of you. He hates, absolutely despises, this side of himself. He feels like he lost control of his mind, letting his body tell the story every time he gets this way. He thought he stopped this habit over a month ago, but here he is, ready to see you again. He needs to see you. At least check that you're okay. That's just what he tells himself, but he knows he's only here because he wants a reason to stare at you.

There's a plain of grass behind the dorm building you live in. You're conveniently placed on the first floor, your window at the perfect height for Armin to peek in, and that's exactly where he is, peeking in past your blinds to your sleeping form. His breath fastens, but he tries to stay quiet in case he's too loud. He looks around to make sure no one is out here, but it's just grass and the moon shining down on him.

Fuck, you look so beautiful. That's the big shirt you always wear to sleep. He doesn't know if you have your sleep shorts on underneath the blanket, but that doesn't matter. No...it never took much. His hand sneaks down to the stiff bulge between his legs, eyes stuck on your form. This is wrong. He told himself it's wrong and he knows you'd absolutely hate him for this. But thinking about your eyes on him has him grabbing his hard-on through the pants.

Your hot breath on his neck, telling him he's all you can think about.

Promises of staying together until death tears you apart from each other.

He needs you to want him. He needs you to need him.

Sweat drips down his forehead and his eyebrows are knit together, eyes squeezed shut as he lets himself believe the dream. One hand on the cold wall, the other squeezing his throbbing cock. Fluid leaks from his tip, making the friction a little better than before. He imagines it's you touching him instead of his own hand and it makes his soft pants turn into soft whimpers. He wishes you saw him fucking his own hand just to let him into your room and hold you. He wishes you'd love him and let him love you the way you deserve. He wants nothing more than to just be with you and it aches that you can't see that he loves you.

He opens his eyes and peeks into your window again. Still asleep. But now you're facing his direction. There's those beautiful eyes. Those eyelashes, cheeks, lips and nose that he adores. Open your eyes please, he tells himself in his mind. He wants to see those eyes on him just once, knowing it'd ruin everything between the two of you. He wishes he was in your room again like last time. Being in the closet is so much more intimate than standing outside the window. He misses the smell of you and the sound of your snores. Fuck, he's close.

His knees can't hold up for longer and his thighs are wobbling. His hand tightly grips what it can of the wall and his eyes nearly roll when you shift again. His forehead rests against the wall as he spurts out onto the grass, whatever thought going on in his head melting away entirely. Little gasps leave his mouth as he drains himself, hand slowing down.

He sits there for a second to catch his breath. Silence and a cool breeze brings him back to Earth. He opens his eyes, dizzy. This should be the last time. But he doesn't seem to hold himself to the small promise when worst comes to worst. When he looks into your room again, you're not there anymore. He freezes, body rigid. Did you see him? Did he wake you up? Where did you go? He quickly pulls his pants back up and when he's about to leave, you still don't come back.

He takes his leave.

Today, you complain to him that you didn't really get rest last night. He can't get those words out of his mind. 'Yeah, I don't know, I just couldn't really stay asleep,' you said. It seems too convenient to him. He was paranoid the entire time you two ate. Every time he looks up at your face now, you seem to not really realize how important those words mean to him. The sun was beginning to go down by the time you two reach his dorm room to study. Time felt slow like he was anticipating something shitty to happen, but you didn't really seem to care about how he felt. He hopes it doesn't show on his face.

When you smile up at him, his face relaxes a little. You were talking to him more today. He feels bad because he hasn't really been speaking much. You ask him questions about your homework and he answers. You even cracked a joke, laughing at it yourself. It gets him to loosen up a little. You must've had a bad day yesterday. He hopes it doesn't get like that again.

He offers you a snack during the study break. You accept the granola bar and begins to snack on it. While you eat, he slips out of the room to go to the bathroom.

He walks down the hall, taking his time. His head is low as a few football players pass him, loud and disruptive. He watches them go into a dorm room, not really caring about how annoying they all are to everyone else on the floor. Armin opens the bathroom door, passing his reflection in the mirror. He isn't like them. Isn't as tall as them. Doesn't have their humor. Isn't muscular or anything. He's nerdy, talkative, and doesn't have anything going for him besides his obsession over you. He couldn't fix himself even if he wanted to. But he will do anything if it meant making your life as fulfilling as possible. You're his only hope. His air. His soon to be lover. He's gonna make it right. He has to.

When he comes back, you're back to your work, reading the textbook. He sits down next to you and skims to where he last was. It's silence for a little bit, then he feels your eyes on him. He slowly looks up, meeting your eyes. He gives you a small smile, expecting you to say something. But you just stare at him. His smile stops growing as he watches you stand up.

"Stand up."

He wants to say something, but goes against it, curiosity taking over his will to speak. He stands and looks over at you. You're staring through him. But it's not a stare he's used to. You look like you're looking to humiliate him or something. It makes his neck heat up.

"Is there something that you want to tell me?"

Armin has a million thoughts of all the pervy shit he did not too long ago and settles on shaking his head. "No...? Why? Is something wrong?" A scowl grows on your face at his answer. Does she know? The question flashes through his mind before he can stop it and his heart begins to race. Not now. You walk around to the other side of the desk to lean on his night stand by his bed. "Come over here."

He meets you by his night stand and runs one of his hands through his hair. "I-if something's wrong, please tell me. I don-" "Open this." You point at the top drawer. There's three. You just asked for the first one. His stomach drops at the realization. You looked through his shit. You know about your underwear in his drawer. You saw that he's a nasty fucking stalker that snuck into your room and used your clothes to get off. You hate him. You don't love him anymore.

Your eyebrow raised at his face. Armin is suddenly completely frozen and is staring at you with a disturbing expression you can't describe. You wave a hand in front of his face. It doesn't make him move or blink. You knew he was up to some shady shit. You step forward and that makes him move. "Armin, open it." He opens it. Regular school materials. Pencils. Tape. Sticky notes. A small, hand-sized notebook. You close the drawer.

"Open this one."

Everything he worked so hard for. Years and years of dealing with his own mental state, learning about how to handle himself before he approaches you. Patience got him this far only to ruin it for himself in the end. He doesn't feel so good. He feels sick. His head begins pounding. Armin shakes his head, his eyes glossy.

He sees the anger in your eyes. How long have you known? You go to open the drawer yourself, but his hand clutches yours with a strength you didn't know he had. The grip is too tight and it hurts. You turn your head. His eyes are wide open, veins poking out of his forehead and neck as he pants. "Don't." A surge of energy bursts through you as you snatch your hand away from him.

"I already fucking know what's in there, Armin. You think I'm stupid? All these months of you stalking me. Following me into my class, sitting in the back of a room like a fucking weirdo. Babying me all of the time. Treating me like your wife when I've never even seen you as anything more than a friend. You know, I tried." You begin to rant and Armin shakes his head as if that was going to stop the truth from pouring out of your lips.

"I really wanted this to work between us. But....you don't know how to be normal. I just wanted something normal, I wanted a normal college life, I wanted friends and to party on the weekends.....and do all of these fun things that would...make me feel like me. You just like having someone to control-"

"That's not true! I really do love you! I want you to be happy, just- just tell me whatever-" He gives you a desperate look, reaching his hands out to you even though you back away at every step he takes forward. "No, no, no. Not with you. I can't always be with you. Don't you understand that?" You looked like you were trying to keep piece of your patience and sanity together, and Armin wasn't any better.

"But I love you, Y/n." He closes the gap between you, a distance he dreamed of closing between the two of you. Your eyes widened, hopefully in realization and love, he thinks. His hands hold yours, you stare up at him while he looks down to you just like he always wished to. He ignores your shaking hands. "I've loved you for as long as i've known you. You- you make my heart beat. I think of you when I wake up and go to sleep. I make you meals in the morning, keeping you in mind. I want to wake up with you there and go to sleep with you in my arms. Everything I dream of at night can be with you because you complete me. You're all I need."

His face relaxed into a loving gaze. It looks so true, so real. You never watched a man's face go through emotions so quickly before. Never met someone so obsessed with someone he can't have. His heart skips a beat at every breath you take and you finally realize that the man you've allowed into your life is someone you were told about a million times. He's a stranger. A monster with delusions strong enough to kill reality. This isn't Armin Arlert. You don't know who this man is.

Silence.

It's okay, he thinks. It does take a second to process a love confession. His gaze goes down to your lips, waiting for a yes to come out.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

what wouldve happened if the Saders (especially Marialena) didn't foretell the prophecy? What wouldve happened if Rafal didn't leave?

This has been in my ask box for months. I hope anon is still around if they still wanted the answer.

@fourleafclovxr Feel free to ignore this, but if you're interested, do you have any thoughts about this question—since it deals with seers and Saders?

⸻

If the neither brother had knowledge of the prophecy then there's a slight chance it may not have happened in a self-fulfilling way with their attempts to prevent it from coming true only furthering its completion. They might've been able to maintain peace.

Yet, even if the prophecy were not told, well, their world is still governed by fate, and considering how much of an inescapable grip that predestination has over everyone's lives, how fates that can't be circumvented—I'm not sure if the innate genre they lived in could have changed from "tragedy."

Even if fates can be subverted by being fulfilled in unconventional ways (as any room for interpretation could be exploited by participants) I don't see how fratricide and there being just One left standing(?) could contain some kind of exceptional clause.

Regardless, this possibility would mean that some sort of "user-friendly" loopholes could exist in their world, like how Chaddick's blood on the handkerchief allowed Rhian II to pull Excalibur when he otherwise wouldn't have been able to.

That instance of cheating is the best example I have at the moment. The rightful son didn't pull the sword, but the event itself, of the sword being pulled, still was able to happen given situational factors. The rightful heir's blood still came into contact with the sword, the sword was pulled (by someone), and the "right" candidate became king by the end. What happened between seminal events may not have mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Thus, prophecies may well work in a top-down way, only going as small-scale as they need to, to ensure outcomes.

So, from this, we could take away that the endings may be predetermined, but that the path to such endings could be open to interference—only to the degree that the ending wouldn't change as the result of any meddling, even if unanticipated third parties involve themselves.

The parties not affected by the prophecy, outside its bounds, could plausibly do whatever they wanted, and have free will (ostensibly, everyone has free will though), but I could venture to say that the consequences of said, seemingly free actions could be manipulated by the hand of fate, to produce those certain outcomes.

Basically, in the Woods, no matter what you try, since you at least have the freedom to try, you won't change a thing with your actions. All those actions would still snowball to produce the exact outcome that's set to happen. (And, if this were true, trying to change your fate would be futile. E.g., think of how Sophie and Agatha were locked into their true natures. They couldn't switch sides.)

(Keep in mind that this post just represents my view of things. We don't necessarily have canon confirmation of anything I'm speculating about.)

Applied to the prequels, if Midas' or the Pan's presences/roles were never predetermined, then they just helped the inevitable end along. If neither of them had been there, perhaps the prophecy still could have reached the same ending by other equally-as-effective means. (Different potential plot(s), one outcome.)

We could also argue that Adela's wording was vague enough to exploit.

So, the same thing could apply to the twins: the prophecy of the One and Adela's betrayal, war, death could happen, and lead to the same outcomes, but the specifics could unfold differently. Or, the events could all happen in the same way but hold different meaning/implications for the future (no 200 year curse despite fratricide or death of another form for Rafal?). Or, none of the events could happen in the same way, but the final ending would be fixed, like I proposed before. I guess we don't really know how malleable or interpretable prophecies or visions are.

And seeing that it's Marialena, I wouldn't put it past her to use red-herrings or mislead, even without saying a word of prophecy. Lying, other methods, or other dialogue/persuasion could produce the same results.

It's hard to separate out the cause and effect to me. We should ask: did (early) knowledge of the prophecy affect how it played out? Or was it set in stone? Or was it inevitable that Rafal's particular combination of character traits (the extorting, the threats, etc.) and the situation (in Monrovia) would have led him to finding out about the prophecy and that that very moment was also a part of the prophecy in action, happening or beginning?

⸻

Second, if Rafal hadn't left, I think the characterization that would hold true was the bit of internal monologue we saw in Fall, that he intentionally cedes some minor(?) arguments to keep the peace with Rhian.

Rhian might not even realize anything were wrong or that Rafal were (probably) hurt by his side being devalued.

I would suspect if Rhian were aware, not much would change. Rhian is prone to burying conflict and truth after all. But, I couldn't see him dwelling on the conflict Rafal lay to rest, unless he had good reason to, or lasting guilt/shame over it.

Rafal on the other hand holds grudges, and while we know he isn't the Evil brother now, he has Evil tendencies, of course, so he could easily let his resentment accumulate and fester inside until he found it in himself to do something: either leave, like he did, or perhaps, display passive aggression?

Outright anger against his brother would not be productive, but if his resentment became that severe, he could potentially lash out, and Rhian would see Rafal's "unprovoked" response as coming out of nowhere. Then, Rhian could accuse him of being irrationally antagonistic, like a villain without motive, or Evil that "always" (often, as of late) loses and that has to deprive Good of an ending to gain one for itself, as we would see the beginning hints of Evil's losing streak no matter what.

By that point, Rafal might either drop the issue, but secretly continue to hold the grudge for the rest of time, a reasonably moderate and functional if not flawless happy ending for the both of them. (Would it last? I'm doubtful.)

Or, Rafal could argue back, setting off the prophecy, even if it had a delayed start this time since I suspect any major enough argument could have set the brothers down the wrong path, no matter what the argument was about, Aladdin or someone/something else, if their bond had weakened over the decades, like it might've been implied to have done in canon.

[stonedficz]

hi this is it. title is a pun. ENJOYYYYY‼️‼️‼️‼️

Most of my publishes will include music. Music is a HUGE part of writing for me, as it helps me set the tone for my work. If able, please listen as you read!

schlatt x streamer!reader

✰ star shaped ✰

ch. 1 ❛ talk about being roux ❜

you were a whore for him. parasocially, of course.

Spending the past 4 years of your life obsessing over someone online was the most entertainment you could find besides trying to pass your college classes.

You had been a fan for years - literally, since 2020. You weren't there for the start of Schlatt's career, but by God, you wish you could've been. He gave you some inspiration to livestream/vlog stream just for fun. You had seen almost every video as soon as it released, every live, everything. Now, you just wanted to be like the big angry guy you watched videos of on your laptop, but better.

Maybe it was your college aspirations, the lack of support from your family, or something else - no matter what it was, you were here. 5 followers on twitch in.

Despite the lack of viewers, you continued streaming happily. You were meal prepping for the next week of work and school to try and save money. It just so happened to be a good content idea as well.

"So, if you look here," you patiently looked and pointed down at your frying pan, showing the camera and 3 viewers your pov. "- the roux is starting to burn. I'm gonna have to take it off the heat and try to add some more milk to fix the flavor. I don't have any more garlic powder so I can't remake it unfortunately." you frowned as you set the pan on a different eye, gently adding more milk. Your eyes flickered down to the chat on your phone.

"whats a roux"

A heavy sigh left your mouth, you had been at this for 2 hours. Streaming, that is. Now you didn't have the patience to answer questions. Then you saw a notification.

BigGuy is live now! Streaming: fixing my minecraft house

"Alright my friends, I think it's time for me to go." you smiled at the camera and waved. "The roux needs my whole attention, so I'll see you 3 later!" God, you were a terrible liar. You hit end stream pretty abruptly, immediately clicking on the notification.

"Hey guys, thanks for joining in," Schlatt breathed as he sat in his chair, turning side to side. He just looked at his screen blankly for a few minutes, occasionally making comments. TTS hadn't started yet but you were anxious to get your message in first. Anything to get his attention.

"Remember, TTS starts at 25 you broke bitches. I don't wanna hear about it being too expensive. Postcards are 50! Let's see what's in the mailbo-" He was cut off by the normal loud TTS voice.

"hi handsome! good to see you on again! I finished up my stream right when you started. have a good time <3 - cookkizkill" you typed in at light speed. Somehow, someway, the past 5 streams you had made it in as the first TTS donation. Pure luck.

"Oh God, not you again you little fuck. How do you manage to get the FIRST TTS in every damn time??? Competitive ass bitch. But thank you anyways.” he yelled and laughed, opening up his mailbox in the game. It didn't matter that he made fun of you - that was his persona, it didn't mean much. All you cared about was being seen. God, you were obsessed.

It went further than this. You GENUINELY were interested in Schlatt - you didn't even know his name. You were the obsessive, love-at-first-sight type. You still thought about a sweet boy from a coffee shop when you were in your junior year. Once you liked something, you had to have it. Unfortunately, millions of other people felt the same. Yuck. So.. now it was this. You sent donos, dm’ed him, everything you could to kindly, gently, and hopefully get him to put you on his channel. That was the boost you needed. Socially, and egotistically.

The dream: meet schlatt. Didn’t matter if it was in New York, at a meet n greet he would never do, or for media.

You knew you wouldn’t make it big enough to quit your job - you didn’t want to, you just wanted to be able to show the internet your life. You wanted others to find community.

—

You continued to watch the stream, he was playing Minecraft, drinking, the usual. Messages were flooding in. Soon enough though, it was 10 pm, and he was about done.

POV: Schlatt. 7:03 pm

“Ahh fuck,” he sighed, sipping on a glass of whiskey. “What’s up fuckers? Welcome to the stream, welcome,” he nodded and chuckled as he watched the people and chats flood in. “Remember, TTS starts at 25 you broke bitches. I don't wanna hear about it being too expensive. Postcards are 50! Let's see what's in the mailbo-“ he was cut off by the first TTS donation. It was the same person from the past few streams. Somehow, they managed ro get first dono more than twice in a row. “Lucky fuck.” He muttered under his breath.

“hi handsome! good to see you on again! I finished up my stream right when you started. have a good time <3 - cookkizkill"

"Oh God, not you again you little fuck. How do you manage to get the FIRST TTS in every damn time??? Competitive ass bitch. But thank you anyways.” He yelled and chuckled - rubbing the thin beard on his chin and his mutton chops for comedic effect. He knew a lot of people wanted him, lusted over him, loved him - but he couldn’t help but smile when people gave him a normal compliment. It felt good to be talked to like normal. Normal normal normal. He knew he wasn’t that, but it didn’t matter, being a star always had it’s perks.

“Alright, guys, lets get in. Fuck all of you shaming my house. FUCK YOU.” He yelled, furrowing his brows in faux anger.

—

3 hours had passed. Schlatt ended up building a new house, opening letters, and getting spammed with donations. God, that felt good. ‘Money, money, money, bitch.’ He thought to himself.

“Alright guys,” he let his tongue swirl in his jaw. “I’m fucking plastered. I’m done for tonight. Hope you enjoyed!” His cheeky smile flooded thousands of screens as he ended the live.

“Motherfucker.. jambo, i’m so fucking tired.” He complained, letting Jambo jump into his lap. His hands grazed over his fur as he headbutted schlatt. He yawned, sipping the last of his glass of whiskey. Jambo jumped down, awaiting their bedtime routine. “Moowwww!” Schlatt looked down at him.

“Alright, alright. I’m not feeding you again though.” Schlatt shut out all the lights in his office, slowly making his way into his bedroom, then his bathroom. He got onto insta when he was done getting ready for bed.

“Shiit, that’s a nice ass car.” He muttered to himself, scrolling. His thumbs grazed the screen hesitantly.

“I wonder..”

Every now and then, he would look at his message requests to see the ridiculous things people sent him. Family photos, death threats, achievements, etc. Every week though, there was the same username. “cookkizkill” managed to catch his eye. She never harassed him. Belittled him. Judged. Spammed. Begged. Nothing. She was overly normal in how she messaged him - and by God, she did it everywhere. Though, no matter what she sent, she said thank you, and wished him the best. Odd. Peculiar. Weird.

“Hmph.” His brows furrowed. He was intrigued. He looked at her messages frequently, never replying. If he replied to one, everyone would expect him to.

He opened the chat request.

cookkizkill

hi handsome! i finally hit 5 twitch followers. yesterday i hit 200 subs on yt. thank you for being a great influence!! i know i wont be huge, but I’m thankful i get a chance to share my life with people. thank you for your stream today! i hope to be on one with you sometime <3

5 minutes ago

accept request?

Click.

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic yandere Obito with darling who is a member of the Akatsuki concept

I loved researching his character! Hope you enjoy :)

Yandere Obito with Akatsuki! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Isolation, Violence, Blood, Murder, Delusional behavior, Denial, Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced relationship.

Obito is... strange to you.

Well, you never really knew him as Obito.

You first knew him as Tobi, a quirky fellow who adored annoying the team.

Along with... cling around you?

Tobi was a strange persona of is.

Then you knew him as Madara, an Uchiha meant to aid the Akatsuki.

Point is, you never really meet Obito as himself.

You meet his personas that he crafted to continue his plans.

Obito, however, knew pretty much everything about you in Akatsuki.

He took on the role of the true leader in the Akatsuki as you were all sent to hunt Tailed Beasts for a plan to change the world.

You genuinely wished to change the world when you joined Akatsuki.

So... safe to say your goals mostly matched up.

Obito doesn't usually like to think of romantic feelings.

That's understandable considering what happened in his past...

What happened to Rin....

Since that day he's tried to ignore romantic feelings.

Yet when he integrates himself into the Akatsuki and meets you...

It brings up emotions he wished he could suffocate.

Your personality reminds you of Rin at times and it makes him recoil.

Obito, even in his manipulated mind, has always wanted to make the world a safer place.

He's terrified of losing any more people like Rin.

So when he sees you, someone who reminds him of his past love...

He gets obsessive.

Even as Tobi he tries to deny it, but he can't help but feel protective.

As Tobi he often tried to hang around you when he wasn't pestering Deidara.

He always acts excited, asking how you're doing and how you feel about your fellow Akatsuki members.

It hurts him a bit when you call him annoying but that just means he's good at acting... hopefully....

When he has to play the role of Madara, he's much more authoritative.

If anything this benefits him as he can order you to stay on less dangerous jobs.

Obito often tries to ignore his romantic feelings, despite them showing in his protective behavior.

With his abilities it's easy for him to keep track of you.

Despite that he never sends you on Tailed Beast missions, just missions that require spying or planning.

Even then he never sends you alone.

While he doesn't like to admit it, Obito slowly tries to keep you by his side.

Part of him, the one that yearns to be appreciated and loved, wants to give in to his feelings.

You may not know him for who he truly is... but maybe later he can show you.

Just you.

You essentially become his replacement Rin... Which sounds horrible.

At the very least he feels it's fate he met you.

Rin must've led you two together to make him happy....

He really doesn't deserve you.

He knows he doesn't.

Yet he finds himself pursuing you anyways.

Obito is primarily protective of you.

He's using pretty much all of the Akatsuki to his advantage except you.

He doesn't trust any of them with you.

He doesn't think they'll keep you safe like he plans to.

Subconsciously Obito finds himself rushing his plan for your sake.

He's so focused on making you safe that he subconsciously uses you as motivation.

Obito would probably never admit his feelings for you.

But his actions say a lot more than he'd like.

After all, the only person he trusts around you is himself.

You're often stuck with him.

He chats with you so casually when you're alone, like he's more interested in you than the rest of the Akatsuki.

Granted, he needs Nagato's eye, but emotionally he's more invested in you.

He could sacrifice the rest of the Akatsuki for his goal.

But you? Never.

He refuses to lose anyone like you again.

Obito killing for your affection is given.

He's a strong character from a strong clan.

If someone was getting in his way, he's getting rid of them.

He doesn't care how much blood stains his robes or his mask.

You'll understand what he's doing is necessary, right?

You want a better world just like him, don't you?

Then him getting rid of a few nuisances or traitors shouldn't bother you.

Just listen to him...

He'll protect you since he couldn't be there for Rin.

Honestly, if something happened to you...

Obito would probably snap.

Something tells me an Uchiha snapping wouldn't end well.

Like... mass murder won't end well.

It's not too hard to tell you mean a lot to Obito even with the mask on.

His behavior with the personas he uses says a lot.

Obito would do anything to prevent losing the ones he loves.

He's already done murder quite a few times, isolating you isn't the worst thing he's done.

Hell, kidnapping you in a secret base isn't the worst of it either.

After all, He just wants you safe, right?

He claims you're weak, compared to the rest of your comrades you could easily get yourself killed.

What he's doing is protecting you... preparing you for a new world of his design... hopefully.

You don't trust a word he says.

You barely did when he was Tobi.

When he tries to give you affection, you smack him away.

A shame, really....

He was hoping you'd keep your loyalty.

Not that any of it matters now.

You'll learn Obito cares for you eventually... loves you even.

Not Tobi, not Madara...

Once he has you to himself he'll reveal he's Obito.

You deserve to know that now.

He knows you no longer trust him, how could you trust him?

Despite that... He hopes you understand eventually.

Maybe with a little bit of encouragement, you'll let him hold and cuddle you without fighting him.

Once you see what his plans are... you'll excuse the fact he's a monster, right?

Rin wouldn't want this... Part of himself screams that at him.

Yet Obito also knows this world has corrupted him.

To do the right thing... sometimes you need to do bad things...

You understand that, don't you?

After all... The Akatsuki aren't good people....

Obito knows he just needs to wait.

He's been waiting for a while.

Once his plan is complete... You'll see he was just trying to protect you.

Then you'll love him

He just needs to wait and put up with your resistance a little longer...

Then you'll be all his... safe in his arms... just like he would've done with Rin.

[mia-can-yap-too]

Colors

Who? :- Bachira Meguru x Fem!Reader

Warnings:- Fluff, kinda OOC

♫:- Disco — Surf Curse

Truly appreciating life can mean looking around yourself, noticing the colors that are woven into every moment of your life. Colors in themselves can have a lot of meaning. Orange can mean the color of the sky when the sun sets, it can mean the leaves of trees starting to wither when autumn rolls around or even the cat you see on the way to your morning commute. Blue can mean the sea you swim with your friends in during summer, the blueberries on the muffins you like to treat yourself to or even the violas you see when you pass by the local flower shop every now and then. Life truly is a colorful experience. 

Then why is your canvas still blank?

 You have been sitting in your school's art studio for a while now, staring at your still white canvas. You've been demotivated recently, needing to paint but finding no inspiration, no will to do so. 

Its been like this for a while now, you spending your last few days before summer break glaring at it, hoping that maybe if your stare was intense enough, a painting would appear right in front of you. You have tried almost everything you could think off; taking a stroll through the more scenic areas of your city, painting still life hoping it would light up the spark in you again, but alas, none of them worked. Lady Luck must have been ignoring you lately.

You are on the verge of tears when Miss Bachira, your arts teacher who also happens to be a renowned artist, taps you on the shoulder. Quickly, you gather yourself up before turning to her.

"Y/n," she smiles, "I would like to have a chat with you, if you do not mind." 

"Oh." You blink. "O-of course, Miss." 

She gestures for you to follow and then promptly leads you to her office. 

"Please, take a seat," her friendly tone still present. 

Have I done something? What if I've been hogging the art studio for too long? Am I gonna get in trouble? Or is it my art instead? Is THE Bachira Yu about to tell me how shit of an artist I am? That it was never gonna work out for me? That its so bad it can be deemed an abomina--

"I've noticed that you've been having trouble painting recently", she starts, calmly. 

"Oh, yes, I think I've uh.. hit an art block, probably," you answer, trying not to make your nervousness evident in your tone. 

"I see, it happens to the best of us. Though that is not entirely the reason why I wanted to talk. I've noticed that there is a lot of potential in you, and I would like to help you by guiding you through your difficulties and giving you a nudge in the right direction when needed. In other words, I would like to tutor you over summer break. Of course, you can say no if you already have plans or if you simply wish not to, I would understand," she looks at you with expectation in her eyes. 

You can't believe it. Bachira Yu, one of the most wonderful artists in Japan, wants to tutor you?! 

Your shock must be evident, as her smile turns even warmer than before.

You realize she is still expecting an answer. 

"Yes, I would love it if you tutored me, thank you so much for the opportunity, Miss Bachira!" you beam. 

Maybe, Lady Luck had other plans for you after all. 

-- 

It has been a couple of weeks since summer break started. Your tutoring sessions with Ms.Bachira have been going quite well, too. Seeing her in her element, listening to her talk about her passion as she guides you through her thought processes for her paintings have ignited a spark inside you as well. It makes your fingers itch for a paintbrush, to pick up paint from your palette and smear them onto your canvas until your emotions and thoughts are conveyed on the canvas. Yet, still, your earlier issue persists. Miss Bachira tells you to give it a little more time, to take a moment to live your life so that you may take inspiration from it. Until then, she teaches you various art tips and helps you perfect your style. 

You knock thrice before entering her studio apartment, not bothering to wait for her to answer the door as she now keeps it unlocked for you. You enter her studio, placing your bag in its designated spot. Looking around, you realize Miss Bachira isn't in front of the painting shes been working on, like she usually is.

"Miss Bachira?" you call out. "Are you there?" 

You wait ten minutes before deciding to go look for her. It's not like she would have minded, as she often asked you to go fetch things for her. 

You look in the main bedroom (after knocking, of course) and the living room before heading to the kitchen. 

Inside, you spot an open refrigerator door. Confused, you go to close it when a hand touches your shoulder. Startled, you scream, which in turn, makes the perpetuator scream as well. Turning around to get a better look, you see a boy your age with familiar golden eyes and fluffy, brown hair with yellow highlights. 

He smiles brightly at you. "You scared me, silly," he laughs. 

You eyes are still wide open from the shock. 

"You okay?" He tilts his head at you. 

"Uh, yes?" you say puzzled. "You are...?"

"Bachira Meguru. Buuut you can just call me Meguru, since you probably call my mom Bachira and it must be pretty weird to have to call two people Bachira, right? I mean, I wouldn't know but I don't think tha--" 

You cut him off, because you're sure that if you didn't, he would never shut up.

"I didn't know Miss Bachira had a son." His smile is still as bright as ever. The similarities are undeniable. 

"I get why you wouldn't, I'm usually off at Blue Lock, a football camp. You must be Y/n, the girl my mom's tutoring. She's told me a lot about you!"

You blush, flustered. "She has?"

"Yeah, totally, you're definitely her favorite student," he chuckles. "You were looking for her earlier, right? She's just gone to get some paints she ran out off, she should be back soon, though!" 

You nod, "I see, thank you for telling me, Meguru."

His smile seems to brighten even more as you call him that. "No problemo~! Hey, I was about to eat some ice cream, do you want some, too?"

"Oh, sure, I guess." 

"I only have chocolate though, its the best, my monster agrees," he says pulling out two bowls.

You furrow your brows. "Monster?"

"Yeah, my monster, its my best friend, and its telling me that you have a monster too."

"Oh? Do I need to be exorcised or something?"

"No,no, its a good monster. My monster seems to like yours. I think we're gonna be good friends." 

"Well, as long as I don't get possessed or something, sure," you smile back at him.

It was then, that Meguru realized, that he liked you too.

--

As the days pass by, you and Meguru grow closer. It started with him idly sitting in the studio, sometimes throwing a football against a wall and catching it as it bounces back as you paint with his mother. Smiling whenever you two made eye contact, making faces behind his mother's back in order to make you laugh and the occasional compliment on your art skills.

Soon it turned into you staying at the Bachiras for longer than usual. Playing video games together (you were an undefeated champion), trying not to laugh when you two drew portraits of each other (he named his masterpiece 'hyperpigmentation'), even attempting to bake cookies for his mom (you both ended up burning them). He tries to teach you soccer, and you try to teach him how to paint. You talk about your childhoods, why you chose art and he chose soccer. You listen when he tells you about his monster

He doesn't tell you how much he wants to kiss you all those times. 

You don't tell him how much your'e starting to like him.

It was when you two were playing Uno, he asked you out. 

"Hey, Y/n," he says as he picks up a card. 

You hum in response. 

"Theres a new Attack on Titan movie out, wanna go watch it with me? I'll buy tickets for us both!"

You blink, surprised. "Huh? You wanna go with...me? Are you sure you don't wanna use that ticket on someone else?" 

"Of course I wanna go with you, silly! Its fun when you're around!"

You're blushing, no one has ever said that to you before. "Really? Its quite fun where you are around too, Meguru. Sure, I'll go!" 

"Its a date, then!" 

You both are too consumed by your own heated faces to notice the other's.

--

You both meet up an hour earlier than the starting time of the movie. He holds your hand as he drags you two to a nearby photo-booth. 

He doesn't tell you about how he was panicking to his mother about how to style his hair (she convinced him to do it as he usually does) , whether to wear his overalls or yellow shirt instead (he chooses the shirt) and which pair of shoes to wear (he ends up wearing his usual pair).

You don't tell him how you were pacing in your room, worried if it was only you who were considering this as a date and whether or not this was casual for him. You don't tell him that you used your expensive perfume and spent hours on Pinterest for outfit inspirations. 

He pulls you into the photo-booth after you both grab props from the stall outside. The first picture startles you both, neither being ready for it. Next one is of both of you in cat ears. Then come the mustaches, corny peace signs and heart glasses. When the last picture comes around, you gain a sudden burst of confidence and face Meguru to kiss his cheek. 

His face turned red. "Where did that come from?" he asks, nervously.

"I-I'm so sorry, I should have aske--" you start, ashamed. 

"No,no! Don't be sorry, its okay! I liked it, actually," he interrupts you.

In return, he kisses your cheek as well, even though there is no picture for it. 

You take the pictures, a soft smile on your face as you examine them. 

Meguru doesn't tell you how beautiful he find you then.

You don't tell him how you'll cherish these photos forever. 

-- 

After the movie, you both find yourselves walking side by side, holding a popsicle each. Your free hands brush each other every now and then as you both recount your favorite moments. 

"I really liked today," you say, seemingly out of nowhere. 

"I did too!" His signature grin is on his face. "We should go out together more! Maybe we should go to the arcade next time, I'll win you all the plushies! Or maybe to the park, I could teach you how to play football! Or maybe we could have a picnic! Actually--!"

"Calm down," you laugh. "We'll do all of those one at a time, okay?" 

He intertwines your finger together. He knows it might ruin your relationship, but he needs to do it now, or else he'll never find the chance again. 

It doesn't take long for you notice him looking at you. 

"Yeah?"

"Y/n." His face is more serious now. 

You listen intently. You notice his golden hues shining. You want to tell him.

"I really like you."

A faint blush sits on your face. "I really like you too, Meguru."

"No, not as friends, as something more." He hesitates, trying to find the words. He knew from the start. When you didn't judge him for his monster, when you didn't make fun him when he couldn't stop talking, when you didn't run away when he wanted to hang out. He knew when he constantly wanted your attention on him, wanted you around all the time, wanted you. 

"I don't know how to do this but I want you to know," he looks away as he rubs his neck. "I've liked you for a while now. I want to hold you, kiss you and hang out with you everyday. You make life fun, you make me feel seen, make me feel like I'm worth hanging out with. I know there are other people, people who are normal, who don't have monsters, who aren't weird like me. And it would make sense if you don't feel the same, cuz you can do so much better but--"

"Meguru, don't say that," your tone is stern and you hold his eyes in a glare. "Don't ridicule yourself for being who yourself. You are kinder, funnier and better than most people in every way. I like you too, dummy. I thought the way I was blushing so much was an obvious hint, actually." 

You both laugh. This time when he wants to kiss you, he does. 

-- 

This time when you hold your paintbrush, you actually paint. Because now you know how colorful life can be from experience. Yellow is Meguru's hair when you run your fingers through it, the duck plushie he won for you at the arcade and his shirt that you mended for him. Red is your cheeks, the red velvet cake he likes to eat and the strawberries from the picnic. Golden are his irises, his laugh, the way he makes you feel. Blue is the color of the violas he bought you. Brown is the chocolate ice cream you sneak out to eat together. 

This time when you finish your painting, it becomes the best one yet. He knows that too. 

[mxtantrights]

mob!bucky knows you know

It wasn't a ceremony. It wasn't much of anything. Apparently Sam got ordained and that meant he was legally able to marry you and Bucky. Which, you had no clue was happening today.

But that was only one surprises in store for you.

-

When you got up to answer your door, there was Steve. He grumbled something about your presence being requested at Bucky's estate. His estate which you haven't been to ever--because the whole point of a secret relationship was to keep a secret.

A trist on an estate is hardly a secret.

So you sat passenger side in Steve's Mustang. Neither of you said a word to each other on the ride up there. You kind of wanted to talk to Steve but you knew he was still rightfully holding a bit of a grudge towards you.

It took a very long hour and third minutes to get to the estate.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, you were rushed inside. Steve told you that Bucky was waiting of you but you didn't know what he really meant until you saw him, and all of it.

There were flower petals on the ground, white ones. There was no furniture. Except for a single altar, which he stood at. Sam stood to his right.

"We're doing this now?" you asked.

"Now or never, sweetheart." Bucky said.

You looked down at your clothes. Silently you cursed Steve for not letting you bring something with you to change into. But you stopped yourself right then and there. This wasn't a marriage of love, it was out of necessity. It was a deal.

You walked on over the petals and joined Sam and Bucky.

"Took you both a long time, but here we are. I'm not gonna drag this because we've got a busy schedule today." Sam snickered.

"Thanks." Bucky muttered.

Quickly you looked him over once. He looked a bit--practiced, stone cold. You thought to yourself that was understandable. Based on what Steve told you about how he took the break up.

You were willing to bet that was only a part of it. Bucky never really shared that much about his feelings. Even when you were together. You knew he cared for you deeply with his actions. But he never said it.

To make yourself feel better you always thought you never needed him to say it.

As you stood across from him, hands at your sides as Sam started to speak again, you regretted it. You regretted not ever asking how he felt about you.

Because you know for sure that you were in love with Bucky Barnes.

And a part of you still is.

-

Bucky opens the basement door. And you find the one man you wouldn't want to see any other day. But today is different because you do actually want to see him.

Brock Rumlow is tied to a chair and gagged. You can't help the sigh of relief that comes out of you. He looks at you with wide eyes and starts trying to get out of his restraints.

"You're not gonna get out of that. The kid, Peter, he's got a knack for tying knots. We call him The Spider." Bucky says.

You walk closer into the room. Seeing Brock so helpless gives you a bit of a rush. A rush that a couple of years ago you would have found repulsive. But knowing what you know about Brock now, you find it satisfying.

With a smirk, you lean in close to him.

"You're delusional if you ever thought I would marry you." you speak.

Brock grunts and bangs his chair against the floor.

"And trying to trick my father into it, shows how much of a snake you are." you continue.

"Do you want me to kill him?" Bucky asks.

There it is. The million dollar question. He can't marry you anymore. He can't blackmail your father anymore. Not with you married to Bucky.

You look into Brock's eyes. It's not like you know him well. You've barely talked to the man. And when he's spoken to you, you've always felt that he was more so sizing you up and trying you on.

But looking at him now, you can see it. Fear. Fear is laced into his pupils. He's trying not so show it but it's hard to hide. His breathing is erratic and he won't stop budging against the ropes around his arms and legs.

"Not yet."