#cool as powers! yes please!

[rustyelias]

I think being a vampire would solve like twenty of my problems

[gascreates]

a new star

[possamble]

in your fic you mention how falin has torn doors off their hinges accidentally and now i’m wondering how the others reacted lol 😭

i think she's like. reflexively gentle enough that she wouldn't actually end up breaking anything unless she was really putting her weight into it.

so the first time it happened it was probably when she was helping everyone clear out the castle. she's downstairs in the cellar while everyone's just upstairs poking around. she comes across a rusted door that won't budge on her first try, so she really heaves it and then just

Marcille: Falin?? Is everything okay?? Falin: Everything's fine! [knocks over 20 different dusty barrels and boxes and shit trying to swing the door back into the frame]

Everyone comes downstairs to see her like. Frantically trying to fix it before giving up like a guilty puppy. Reactions are what you'd expect. Marcille is freaking out trying to figure out if this is a symptom of something really bad or some complication with her resurrection. Laios immediately experiences childlike wonder and jealousy and wants to start testing just how strong she is by getting her to break different things. Yaad and Kabru are just kind of like "huh! i hope we don't need that door."

meanwhile Falin's just dying bc "oh shit i broke something aaa" + "marcille is just grabbing me everywhere again and she smells nice" + "this is too much attention"

[wikitpowers]

One thing I kind of wish Cassie gave Kit is pointed ears!!!

“Rosemary was regarded as an extremely beautiful young woman. She had long blond hair, blue eyes, red lips, and—as a result of her faerie heritage—pointed ears.”

I know it would’ve made it so painfully obvious he was the first heir but I would’ve absolutely loved it!! He would’ve been the only one of Cassie’s protags with pointed ears!!

Not to mention how cute they are on Helen and Mark!😭😭😭

awww i love that!!! but honestly i think it was important to show that he was just a regular mundane, u know?,,, although i did see someone post a theory on here a while ago about how his ears (and maybe golden wings too if he has them) might be activated once he reaches his full powers!!! -> so there’s something to think about ;)

[snackugaki-jestsjapesjokes]

In commemoration of this

Let us remember what Frida can do canonically

gave her the ol' Shikamaru's Kagemane no Jutsu treatment for ninpo which is fitting really since

And what's more ninja than shadow manipulation?

Just y'know, from a 90s weeb standpoint who saw how fucking obsessed U.S media was with ninja in the 80s and 90s, the earlier TMNT could have stood to be MORE ninja. The newer iterations kinda sorta have gotten "more ninja" instead of generic milk chocolate martial arts with a shiny ninja candy coating

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

Just finished the show a few days ago, so that's why I'm only just posting this now.

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Sometimes I wonder about worms. Like where the fuck do they come from. You can dig and find them but it isn't like there are tunnels, they are just there, snails pace serpentine through the dirt and granules. At a depth shallow enough the dirt above doesn't crush them, yet deep enough you gotta dig a bit to really find them down there.

Just squirming and waiting to get hooked in some fish on a time waxing off the full moon.

[tuxxydo]

okay so ppl on youtube are using the confidential documents to make guesses on the next dlc fighters (menat being a common guess cus of the egypt POI) and someone said the mexico POI could've been elena since they (the mexico POI) was seen reviving a dead horse and we know that elena has healing powers.

i would think that would be a nice shake-up. we already know elena has met lily so her visiting lily wouldn't be out of the question. it also mentioned that the mexico POI's set off a psycho-powered base. the (possible) implications that elena has soul/psycho power would be fucking insane if this ends up being the case.

[chialattea]

OH. OHHHHHHH. OOOOIHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ODAAAAAAAAAAAA ODAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THIS IS LITERALLY THE COOLEDT FUCKING SHIT EVER OH MY FUCKING GOD HOLY SHIT HOLSY SHIT HOLY SHIT

[live-from-flaturn]

And they never saw the tag of those pants again...

[mantisgodsdomain]

Today's reminder that the block button is a free resource that can be used on anyone and anything that you don't care to find on your dashboard.

[firawren]

Which of these would you rather see on your dash?

Hey @staff. This is a perfect example of why collapsed reblogs is such a bad idea. Seeing the full thread, you go like this: 😮 ooh, that's cool 😀 "they're free," hehe! 🤣 "16 cents," perfection!!

I have achieved joy, I feel positive feelings toward Tumblr, I want to engage, I want to stay, my eyeballs land on more ads, you make more money, everyone wins! 🎉

Seeing the collapsed thread, you go like this:

😮 ooh, that's cool 😐 "16 cents"? yes, that's literally what the pic shows, not sure why you felt the need to say that

There is no motivation for me to uncollapse the reblog chain—it looks like a boring conversation about the denominations of coins. And even if I do uncollapse it, you've ruined the joke by showing me the punchline before the setup. I am sad, Tumblr is boring, I go elsewhere to entertain myself, I see less ads, you make less money, everyone loses. 😥

Reblog chains are the best thing about Tumblr. They are your unique super power. They are the thing that makes people screenshot Tumblr and share it around. Why on earth would you kneecap them??

I don't know exactly how you plan to implement this. Give people the option to keep them collapsed if there truly are people who are annoyed by how long they can get (you already have a version of this feature), but don't collapse them for everyone or new users by default. Please. It will make Tumblr so much more boring.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt my dupes some more, and it's such a joy imagining them working together to try and invent new stuff for their needs with their limited resources, especially when it comes to the guys anywhere but the main colony where the only actual scientist lives lol

[chaoticwriting]

Part 1

Gotham New Rogue 2

It's been a few weeks since Danny started to become the Trickster. To be honest, it is working very well. His core is expanding fast as ectoplasm is regenerating faster than ever before. He is also slowly developing new abilities and gaining more control and powers to his already established abilities.

For instance, Danny used to struggle making clones, but now he can easily create dozens of them with just a thought. He can also change his clothes to whatever he imagines using ectoplasm now. His ice power is also stronger and easier to control. His superhuman body is developing and slowly getting stronger and faster.

Overall, Danny will say that make a smart decision to become a rogue especially since no one has caught him yet. Danny is currently laying on top of a building watching the sun slowly set in the horizon. His stomach suddenly grumbles and he decides to hit the shack before he gets to "work" tonight.

Jumping off the roof, Danny lands and walks to the nearest Batburger while still wearing his rogue suit. He has a totally funny idea today and it involves him being seen in public. Entering the Batburger is like entering a library for some reason. As soon as he enters, everyone goes deathly quiet.

Danny slowly walks towards the cashier and orders his food.

Danny: 5 sets of set C please.

Cashier: Ermm, that will be 60 bucks.

Danny: Here.

After paying for the food, Danny gets his food and sits at one of the tables alone. It's only after he is through his 3rd set that reality is set in for the people. They begin to move and contrary to Danny's expectations, approach him to ask for pictures. Danny allows them some pictures and unknowingly raises his status as Gotham's friendliest rogue.

Suddenly, a white man that screams rich guy, a woman with blonde hair and a black guy wearing Signal's merch approach him. Danny has learned a lot of things from his 14 years of life and 2 years of half life and Danny knows when a rich guy approaches you, it's never good (Sam doesn't have the rich vibe).

Rich guy: Hello Trickster! May we have a meal with you?

Danny: Sure.

Rich guy: Ah, how rude of me. My name is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. These two are my friends, Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas. You can call me Tim by the way.

Danny: Sure, Tim.

They sit opposite him with their meals and try to make small talks with him while eating. The trio realize that Danny seems to respond a lot better when Steph or Duke is the one to ask the question.

Steph: So, Trickster. Why don't you like my friend here?

Duke: Way to go in being subtle, Steph. Why not ask who is he really next?

Steph: Hey, I can't help it you know. He seems so snarky whenever Tim asks questions. I wanna know if Tim pissed him off or something.

Danny: He is rich, right?

Duke: Err, yes?

Steph: Let's say he is. Why does that matter?

Danny: I hate rich people. And government. But who doesn't hate the government?

Duke: So, eat the rich?

Danny: Yes.

Steph: Cool cool. We are also here just so we could leech him off anyway. We're not really friends.

Tim: Ow, you hurt me by saying that. What happened to our vow of eternal friendships?

Steph: I cross my fingers.

Duke: I lie.

Danny: Hahahaha. You're like my friends.

Tim: You have friends?

Danny: Of course I have friends. And unlike you I don't need money to have friends.

Tim: Sorry sorry. Are your friends also rouges?

Danny: Wouldn't you like to know? Last I need is Batman investigating my friends. I'm sure Batman is part of you rich people group chat or something.

Steph and Duke: *Snickers*

Tim: *Glares at the two* Why would you think Batman is in contact with the rich people?

Danny: Isn't it obvious? Batman has all these high tech gadgets and is always there fast whenever a Wayne is kidnapped. I would even say Batman is being sponsored by the Wayne.

Danny: I also don't like most heroes in general. They are just the government lapdog doing whatever the government wants.

Tim, Steph and Duke frowned at that statement. From the way Danny speaks, it is clear that he has some history against the government. Him being here also means he is at least confident enough to run away if any of the bats are here. Is it just blind confidence or a truly competent ability will remain to be seen.

Tim is just about to refute him when Danny suddenly stands up. All of them tensed up and ready for battle when Danny turns towards one side of the window, waves and disappears right in front of them. They are very confused and when they turn towards the direction Danny was just looking at, they see Batman and Black Bat right on the rooftop across the building.

Batman and Tim nod to each other and they all return to the caves.

-Batcave-

Tim: So you all hear the conversation right?

Dick: Except at the end where the sound becomes blurred for a moment, we hear everything.

Tim: Good. So what are your thoughts on this?

Damian: It is pretty self explanatory Drake. He has a personal hatred towards the government and that extends to all bodies of government or people he thought is connected to the government.

Tim: But why though? Is the hatred towards the government something as simple because he is a criminal? Or is there something else towards it?

Bruce: There is nothing to find about him currently with our limited resources about him. Return to the manor for today and take some rest. We will investigate it later.

All of them return to the manor and rest for the night.

-2 weeks later-

The Trickster is standing in front of an unconscious and tied up Batman. He is giggling loudly that evolves into full blown laughter.

He takes off Batman's belt and starts to pull out stuff one after another. Soon, he found the item that he needed.

Trickster: Hahahahahahaha. I have finally got it. The strongest weapon in the world!

The batfam that is watching the live broadcast shiver as they watch Trickster holds out the black object high in the sky.

Part 3

[reignpage]

Sweet Revenge

Summary: you get revenge on your cheating husband with Toji who isn't going to let the opportunity pass Word Count: quick read with 720 words Warnings: porn with little plot, unprotected sex, revenge sex, infidelity, cream pie, exhibitionism, single dad!toji, rough, manhandling, dirty talk, praise

Your husband is a cheating, lying bastard. He sucks. He’s ugly and fat and lazy and you hate him. For years, you had put up with the changes in him: he stopped showering frequently, no longer said please and thank you, didn’t ever bother taking you on a date. All of that you could take, even when you haven’t had an orgasm from him for years. 

But the cheating on you…with your own sister!

That demands revenge.

That’s where Single dad!Toji comes in. 

He’s your sister’s crush, the one she loves to see at the kindergarten when she picks up her son. She gushes over him all the time. Talking about how muscular he is, those damn biceps and that godforsaken smirk, the one that makes his scar stretch delectably. 

You always shrugged her off. 

But, well, she's right. 

Single dad!Toji wastes no time in wrangling you against the wall, shoving his huge hand inside your leggings, straight into your panties as he rubs at your clit. Meanwhile, he’s swallowing every whine and moan with a sloppy kiss, gripping your throat with his other hand, making sure you’re pinned to the wall. God, his hands are calloused as fuck but it just makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Finally thought I’m good enough to give a go?” He snarks. “Been eyeing you all year when you pick up your nephew, y’know?”

Single dad!Toji makes you cum on his fingers, curling three fingers inside to press incessantly at your g-spot whilst he thumbs at your little bud. He snorts when you claw at his chest, screaming about how you need more. So with a quick peck to your lips, he shoves your leggings and panties all the way down and spin you around. Your face is squished against the wall and a cool breeze is blowing all over your sloppy pussy. 

“Toji! Fuck, I need you inside! Wanna cum on your cock, pleasepleaseplease,” you squeal when you feel him slide his cock between your legs, coating his long, thick length with your overflowing juices. 

“Yeah, yeah. Relax ma, I’ll fuck ya so good you’ll forget all about your shitty husband.” 

And God, does he?! He shoves his entire length at once, his heavy balls slapping your clit with every thrust, wringing moans and groans out of you. He’s kissing your cervix, branding bruises on your hips and biting your neck. Seriously, his dick game is fucking crazy, stretching you out like you never have been in your entire life. You forget all about your stupid husband and your stupid sister. 

“Yes! Right there! Right there, oh god, Toji! Fuuuuckkk,” you scream. Your voice is growing hoarse and when he pulls your hair to shove his tongue down your throat, you lose your sanity. Everything about him is so big and hard and strong. And whilst he sucks on your bottom lip, he kneads your tits. “God, I fucking love you.”

Single dad!Toji laughs, punctuating his mocking words with deep thrusts. “Ha! Dick so good you fell in love? Marry me then, ma”

“WHAT?!” You screech when he starts pinching your clit, pummelling your pussy with his throbbing cock. “Marriage? Are you crazy?”

Single dad!Toji makes you cum. Your orgasm hits you like a truck. And his soon follows, powerful spurts painting your walls white with hot cum, and you know for a fact the fucking guy has strong swimmers. 

“You’re gonna get me pregnant!”

He chortles, “Then you’ll have to marry me, fucking perfect.”

Single dad!Toji is still thrusting his softening cock inside of you, milking himself for everything he’s worth, really digging his cum inside to make sure it takes. And he’s still groping your tits. “Gonna love drinking from these when they’re all swollen up.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Both of you turn to look at the door. Your sister and your husband are gaping at you. She drops her groceries, oranges rolling on the floor.

Single dad!Toji smirks against your head before pressing a smooch there. Then he spins you around again, this time so he can bend you over to show them the cum leaking from your fluttering pussy. 

“Welcome home, losers. You get to see your nephew’s conception, congrats. We’re expecting a sizeable gift at the baby shower, yeah?”

What the hell, sure.

[dollwrites]

ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs, ɪ…! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sᴜɴᴅᴀʏ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, innocent!reader & manipulative!sunday, religious setting ( confessional ), mildly dark ( suggested mind control and dub con to cnc fantasies ), dub con, humiliation, masturbation ( him! ). all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act seven [ masturbation ]

this was the third time.

the third time you’d found yourself sitting here.

the third time within the Cathedral of Morning Dew, perched and squirming uncomfortably in the claustrophobic cubicle, fumbling with your own fingers against the lace details of your skirt as it splayed across your knees— one of them bouncing as a testament to your anxiety and causing your voice to shake.

the third time you were confessing to Sunday.

“I’m sorry,” you feel like you should apologize, so your voice shyly fills the cool air around you. “You must have so many other important matters to tend to—“

“Nonsense.” Sunday replies with an impossibly soft and alluring purr in his gentle baritone. he’s positioned close enough to the lattice partition that he can almost whisper it to you, like a secret for only you to hear. “Penacony’s sons and daughters and their concerns are of utmost importance to me.” though it was meant as reassurance, your cheeks are aflame with embarrassment. to be coddled by a man with as much power as Sunday did make you feel like a helpless child that cries to her father when she’s upset. “Go on, my dear. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

you glance around the cubicle, eyes landing on the candle that endlessly burns beside you, yet no hot wax trickles down on to the pristine floor, nor does heat emit from the flame. even if you blew on it, you doubted that it would go out. as was the whimsicality of the Dreamscape. “It’s these… fantasies again,” you start, timidly bringing up a topic that had been the prompt for you to seek Sunday out every time. gnawing desires for things you knew you couldn’t have— desires for him. “It’s getting harder for me to tell them apart from, well, what’s really happening. The one’s I’ve had recently seem so… immersive.”

Sunday is a quiet for a moment before calmly asking, “Your condition is getting more severe? These fantasies are worrying you?”

“Well, yes.” you answer, choosing your words carefully. “They’re… very…” for all the words there were that could describe what these daydreams about Sunday were ( vulgar, lustful, depraved ), you could force none to breach your lips.

“Naughty?” Sunday offers, and you can almost hear the fond, ghost of a smile that tickles the corners of his lips. it only makes your blush hotter and more furious.

you bite down in your lower lip, rolling it between your teeth as your eyes look towards the latticework. you can only see the outline of his halo, and the glinting of the candlelight as it reflects off the piercings in his wings. squinting slightly, you attempt to make out more details. the softness of his silvery hair, always just so with not a single tendril out of place. the flawlessness of his supple, milky skin, until he turns his head, just a bit, and a glimmering, golden gaze nearly captures yours. with a soft squeak, realizing you’d been staring— wanting, you quickly avert your gaze. “Mhm…!”

you can feel his eyes on you for several more moments, but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, deciding instead to stare at your bouncing knee.

“And what happens in these naughty, little daydreams of yours?”

a lump forms in your throat, and your mouth goes dry at the prospect of describing to Sunday the way you yearn for him. so, instead of answering right away, you shrink away from the lattice until you no longer feel him gazing at you. the cathedral is eerily silent, and you can hear the flapping of Charmony Dove wings outside. “My dear,” Sunday begins in a calm, patient tone, “you know that you must confess them to me, no matter how deplorable. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. Now, don’t be shy. You’re safe here with me. You know this, yes?”

you had always felt safe in the warmth of his presence, so you nod again, though you didn’t think he was looking at you anymore. still, you were naive for thinking so. a perfectly gullible, little prey.

Sunday could hear the trepidation in your voice as you began, and he was smiling to himself, imagining the flustered look on your dreamy countenance as you recall how you fantasize about him. with slow, graceful movements, he pinches the very tips of the fingers of one glove, pulling it from his hand. his fingers wiggle once they’re freed from their cloth confinement, which he drapes neatly over his knee.

“In these… dreams, I come to you late at night, when no one else is around…”

“Do you?” he asks, amused, his bare fingers drumming lightly on his thigh silently. “All alone in secret? For what purpose?” he knows why. after all, he’s the culprit behind these eerily realistic fantasies. however, he wants to hear you say it.

“To— um,” you pause, your sheepishness getting the better of you. “Offer myself to you.”

Sunday exhales through his nose to keep a low sound of satisfaction from filling the air, and alerting you to his arousal. hearing how humiliated you are, it tightens the muscles in his lower abdomen, and a tent begins to form in his trousers, which he promptly rubs against his palm. “Oh…?” he asks, almost in a teasing, condescending lilt, murmuring, “In these fantasies of yours, do I accept the offer? Do I take you for myself? Steal your innocence like a wicked thief in the night?” even though his voice remained even, his heart was thumping. his cock jabbed uncomfortably against the fabric of his clothes, and he was busying himself with the task of freeing it.

“Mhm…. Many times,” you answer, and the way your voice breaks, Sunday can practically see your lower lip quivering. it only makes him harder to think about that, and your sparkling eyes welling up with tears. once his cock springs free, standing at attention, he wraps his bare hand around it in a loose fist, and purses his lips together to suppress a grunt. veins throb beneath his skin, the tip twitching as beads of translucent nectar bubbles up from the eager slit. “In many different ways. Sometimes, you— you’re rough with me.”

the tremors that shake your voice when you say this do not go unnoticed by Sunday, who closes his eyes, bringing the fantasy he’d handpicked to implant deep within your mind to the surface of his own. it was one of his favorites, and he was quite pleased that it affected you the most. though his memory wasn’t tampered with, as yours was, and so he couldn’t conjure all the sensations or watch the fantasy like a movie in his mind, he could imagine the sight of you beneath his wandering hands. how they tore at your delicate, little dress. ripping the neckline open to expose your pert breasts for him to grope and squeeze. the way he would imagine you to whimper and wince, perhaps even squirm, and he would have to spare a hand to wrap it around your throat and hold you down— pin you in place so you couldn’t escape him. he would whisper to you that as long as you’re a sweet, obedient darling, he would be gentle. but this was, of course, a lie. the way you would peer up at his figure as he forces his way between your trembling thighs, and the way you would cry out once he finally got his cock inside you, it would be your way of begging him to break you. your mouth could lie, and whine that he was hurting you, or that you want him to be careful with you, but deep down, you wanted him to dominate you. to decimate and own you. he knew this to be fact because he had designed this little dream to convince you of it.

all whilst his imagination ran wild, his thumb runs deftly along his leaking slit, applying enough pressure to milk the swollen, red tip until his precum begins to dribble down the length of his cock, slickening the skin. his palm glides down his needy length, fingers clamping down, until the side of his fist rests against the base, before he slowly drags it back upwards towards the tip, setting a torturously slow tempo for himself. “And in this daydream of yours,” he purrs, only parting his lips wide enough to allow the words to slip through, lest a sound of ecstasy also escape, “You love it when I’m rough with you.” it wasn’t a question. it was a matter of fact. “I can hear it in the way your voice quivers, my dear, you’re ashamed of yourself. Humiliated because, albeit untouched, your little cunt gets so wet when you think about me abusing it.”

“S—Sunday…”

“Mm?” he taunts in a soft voice, as if daring you to challenge the truth. “It’s true, isn’t it? Deplorable, vulgar, and embarrassing to admit, but impossible to deny that you’ve soiled your panties many a time when you imagine how a man like me could use your body all up, and leave you in a state of ruin.”

“Y—yes…” it’s exactly what he’d expected to hear, and yet his core throbs the second he does. he leans back, just enough to brace his back against the wall of his cubicle, and adjust his feet. spreading them further apart. “I—I can't help it…”

“Poor, little thing.” Sunday croons, his slender eyebrows furrowing as he pumps himself harder and faster. “So helpless.” his fist alternates by squeezing and releasing, in the same rhythm that he imagines your virgin pussy would spasm if he was inside, and the sensations were already driving him to the brink. Sunday tilts his head back against the wall, hissing out a soft groan under his breath. part of him even wants you to hear that little sound of pleasure, to realize what he’s doing— getting off on your distress. on your desperate, wanton lust for him. however, if you do hear it, you’re too shy to draw attention to it. too bad, he thinks, if she had only caught me, i would have the innocent, little thing gagging on my cock right here in this booth…

“Wh—what should I do?” your shy question snaps him back to the moment at hand. “About these fantasies. I feel— I feel like they’re only getting more depraved and… scary…”

Sunday has to seal his tiers tightly together, lest a breathy chuckle bubble up from his throat at just how frightened by your own desires ( or, at least, the ones he’s convinced you are yours ) you are. it was cute to him. adorable how eager you are to make these naughty visages go away before they spiral out of control, when that is exactly what he was waiting for. “You needn’t worry, you know this.” he manages to force the words out, even as he stroked himself, coming undone in his own palm to the thought of deceiving you. plucking away the petals of your fragile, little mind until you were compliant and easy enough to do the same deflowering to your body. “I will always be here for you, I will always take care of you.” as he says this, he milks his cock, slowly dragging a tight fist up from the base, coaxing a slowly oozing release from the engorged head. a couple of rogue streamers splatter silently against the floor between his feet, but he pays the mess no mind. instead, he retrieves a handkerchief from his breast pocket and carefully wipes the mess on his lap— cum glazing his bare hand and the length of his shaft, down to where it began to frost his now empty balls, just before reaching the fabric of his trousers. it was unsurprisingly that he looked pristine once he was cleaned and tucked back into his pants. the soiled handkerchief is forgotten on the bench, in exchange for his glove still resting across his knee. he slips it back on before he stands, taking only a moment to smooth his vest and jacket before escaping the now stuffy air of the booth. with a soft knock on the door to your side, he waits for you to come out, too. a gentle smile on his face, and the dusky blush fading into his normal complexion by the time you emerge.

when you open the door, it creaks a bit, and you glance down at the hinges, before looking up to find Sunday incredibly close. the subtle musk from his refined cologne tickling your nostrils, but that wasn’t all. there was another smell that was quite unfamiliar, and yet seemed to spark a low bubble in your belly, but you couldn’t place it. you shrink away from him with a sheepish smile, your back pressing against the door of the booth when he takes a step closer, effectively blocking you from leaving. “Your condition is my concern,” he assures you with a gentle smile, before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little vial of pinkish, glowing liquid. it was familiar to you— the same elixir he’d given you the last two times you’d come to him. to help with the symptoms, he says.

“Th—thank you, Sunday—“ you whisper, reaching a trembling hand for the vial in his, but what he does next surprises you. grasping your wrist with the other, he presses the vial against your palm and covers your fingers with his, wrapping them tightly, and he leans in with a softer whisper.

“Remember to place a single drop on your tongue. Every. Single. Night.” when you nod, flustered by so much physical contact, he smiles fondly, and releases your hand. “Very good girl.” he appraises, before his right hand falls to rest behind his back, yet his left lingers, creeping up to trace the shape of your mouth. piercing, golden eyes for us on your lips, his own curled into a gentle smile.

“P—please don’t tell anyone… about my condition.” you whisper, your eyes big and hopeful. you didn’t believe he would, but it was something you always needed to plead for before you left.

Sunday chuckles softly at this, and presses a gloved thumb to the seam of your lips, applying pressure until your lips open and it nearly slips inside. “You and I have many secrets together,” he murmurs in reply, before his gaze flits back up to your eyes, locking them into an intense contact that has you shifting back and forth on your feet. “But that is why we must trust one another. Unconditionally. Do you trust me, my dear? Unconditionally?”