#feel so so so ashamed for even feeling like this its such a prison in my head i hate it i hate it its fine ok stopping for real goodnight.

[wingedshadowfan]

this post has been met w/ a lot of support (endlessly grateful <3) but i'm aware i'm just in an echo chamber-y part of the internet bcuz i saw a video today of someone analyzing this scene in such a one-sided and way, i just had to comment on it.

they claimed:

caitlyn sees vi as lesser than: hot take lol, especially considering caitlyn is a character w/ almost no confirmation bias against zaunites however sheltered/uneducated abt their struggles she might be bcuz of her privilege. and before you pull up one of the 3 quotes you use to base that reading off of, let me debunk all of them.

her "why would i ever trust someone like you" (someone who got sentenced to 7+ years in prison as a teen with no record of their crimes and was moved to solitary confinement) which was at least partly in response to vi's own antagonistic attitude. sorry but i wouldn't trust vi either if i was alone in an unfamiliar place and situation and no one knew where i was like caitlyn was, and let's not forget caitlyn still let vi out (and fun fact she even forbid the use of that cell after she became commander) bcuz she believed she'd help her solve a crime so she did trust her and saved her ass multiple times at the expense of endangering herself

the convo with ekko where she refused to acknowledge enforcers were violent against zaunites (she obv didn't think zaunites deserved to be treated this way, quite the opposite - she didn't know this was a thing bcuz she believed enforcers were always protecting the innocent and that the world was just and beautiful aka baby's first realization she'd been brainwashed), and she still told ekko he can keep the gem if he deems fit and that the undercity needed healing (this is where vi fell in love w/ her btw)

the infamous "animals" quote: ignoring its contextuality and specifically caitlyn saying that now [that she's been personally hurt] she understands how easy it is to hate all zaunites - implying she didn't before (baby's first experience in understanding how prejudice works) and that she's battling those feelings - bcuz of the few ones who staged the attack and slaughtered a bunch of ppl, not bcuz of your average zaunite's characteristics or way of life. again, she's shown a desire to help and protect zaunites who were strangers to her multiple times before bffr.

and EVEN IF you somehow managed to prove to me that caitlyn has this insane prejudice against zaunites (which i don't believe at all), vi would still be an exception to that! caitlyn falls in love with her quickly, and wants to make it work (oil and water) despite their differences - i see no evidence in her words or behavior to believe she deems vi to be inferior to her, in fact, i believe she thinks vi is better than most, zaunites and topsiders alike

caitlyn is the one with greater capacity for violence: this is an interesting one bcuz i see how this can be true in general, but not in the breakup scene. in piltover's council room, miss decorated officer and leader of house kiramman has a greater capacity for violence against zaun through her name, privilege, money and subordinates in the form of armed enforcers invading zaun. and this is not bcuz she's more violent but bcuz she's got more resources she can take advantage of. that's... how privilege works. but in the vents, caitlyn who's almost just died again and is completely tweaking out that their mission failed, she let jinx get away, vi took the choice away from her after giving her the green light, etc, she does not have a greater capacity for violence than vi.

verbal violence: her words practically don't hurt vi at all imo (bcuz they're not jabs or insults, they're confirmed statements vi isn't ashamed of, "i thought you were different but you're not. it's her blood in your veins"), but vi's words ("what if you missed?", "then why are you the one acting like her?")? doubting/mistrusting her and comparing her to her mother's killer? that must hurt like a mf, caitlyn's arc and current mental state considered.

physical violence: caitlyn lashes out suddenly bcuz of vi pulling her back (she couldn't flee so she fought) and bcuz of vi's words. she hurts vi in the worst possible way she could've, but in any real fight, where vi would've anticipated being hit and defended herself, caitlyn would've eaten dirt. it's only circumstantial that she deals so much damage and it isn't after months of sparring with ambessa that she's able to drop vi.

violence/hurting the other wasn't the main goal of that altercation for either of them, it was something that just happened bcuz of a plethora of factors, none of which have to do with how vi and caitlyn truly feel abt each other.

caitlyn looks at vi with anger and contempt/caitlyn shoves her aside quickly, efficiently and coldly after vi did so much for her, caitlyn is brutal and cruel, leaving vi on her knees to rot in the vents: i didn't read any of her behavior that way, vi might've though - and maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle but here's what i got.

what vi did for caitlyn she did by choice and/or bcuz of guilt caitlyn isn't responsible for (i do agree caitlyn asked a lot of her but it's on vi for accepting instead of drawing boundaries). as far as i remember, caitlyn does not make eye contact with vi at all (so idk abt looking at vi with contempt lol) and i see how that can be interpreted as cold, quick and efficient. it's not. it's self preservation. it's bcuz eye contact is very important to caitlyn's character. it's how she understands and connects to people. it's safe to assume she's angry at vi but much more than that, evident in her words, she feels hurt, betrayed, disappointed and overwhelmed. she chooses not to look in vi's eyes, bcuz she wouldn't be able to bear it - she shuts herself off by choice, she doesn't want to connect in that moment, doesn't want to understand or be persuaded to stay (she knows vi has the capability of doing that), and it's not bcuz "contempt/the desire to shove her aside" are her true feelings for vi, it's bcuz caitlyn tried to remove herself from the situation but bcuz she's literally spiraling (please watch that scene again, ik caitlyn is really hard to interpret bcuz she doesn't scream, cry or blow things up, but this is her losing it in her own way), she snapped impulsively when she couldn't leave and put space between herself and vi

those are my two cents.

caitlyn grew up sheltered, she's privileged, uneducated and unaware of zaun struggles, zaun identity and generational trauma, zaun's history of oppression and piltover's of police violence. she's deeply in love with vi whom she sees as an equal (she sees all people as equals), is in the process of learning and relearning truths abt herself and the world, and in a time of immense trauma, stress and pressure, she lets her fear, anger, grief and guilt blind her to how vi really feels underneath her own guilt. she loses sight of what the right thing to do is. she commits violent acts, she makes bad choices. she's not violent or a bad person. she allows herself to be manipulated. she believes no amount of good will erase those mistakes. and she still tries to set things right and gives it her all.

some thoughts about the caitvi breakup scene

i saw ppl pointing out what looks like a tear running down caitlyn's nose after her and vi's fight w/ sevika and jinx (when she finally stops hitting the wall w/ her rifle and puts her forehead to it) and it could've been just sweat, but here's why i think it wasn't:

it's bcuz vi took the choice away from her.

we all know caitlyn's parents had been keeping her in a gilded cage since she was a child. we see this symbolically in her conversation with jayce when he gets kicked out of the academy after the explosion - he's outside in the rain, but she's within the gates of the kiramman estate, under an umbrella, protected, hidden. she tells him her parents don't allow her to talk to him anymore but she doesn't care. they're friends.

we know cassandra didn't approve of caitlyn's choice to become an enforcer either (we assume caitlyn had to fight for it and her family tried to stop her). even after that "win", her mother kept meddling and made sure caitlyn would always get safer tasks - out of harm's way and where she'd never be able to prove herself or do any actual good like she'd always wanted. her own coworkers make fun of her for being a kiramman and only "playing dress up" as an enforcer - a job she decided she wanted and had been working towards since she was a child, in order to help and protect people. she'd had to fight (not for the first time) to be placed on a case, in a real guard position, to be taken seriously.

caitlyn's choice and her agency - things she's barely been given in her own life, because of her parents, her name and how sheltered she'd grown up - she'd always had to fight for. she's had to fight to be able to choose, she's had to fight to defend her choices, and she's had to fight to prove herself over and over again.

then for the first time in her life, she didn't have to fight because vi (perhaps being swallowed by her own guilt for everything jinx had done to caitlyn) gave caitlyn the ability to choose what happens to jinx. unconditionally.

and caitlyn chose. vi agreed with her choice.

take the shot.

then vi took the choice away from her in the last possible moment, physically stopping her from shooting. (now, we can talk abt what that means to someone who's never been the stronger opponent in any physical altercation they've been a part of so far, but i won't)

this is the real reason caitlyn completely disassociates shuts down, not to mention the adrenaline after almost dying again bcuz sevika wasn't playing. caitlyn goes all out hitting the wall, lets out a single tear, refuses to look vi in the eyes and tells her, "i thought you were different but you're not"

she's yet another person who denies caitlyn the ability to make a choice in her life.

it's her blood in your veins.

vi's loyalties lie with the blood of someone who'd worked for silco in oppressing the undercity, lured and blown up caitlyn's coworkers, tried to kill caitlyn (and vi) multiple times, kidnapped her from her fucking bathroom, dressed her up against her will, kept her hostage for a full day in which she with almost 100% certainty tortured her, kept her as the only person gagged throughout the tea party, asked vi to kill her, then blew her mother up along with 4 more counselors and (allegedly) attacked their memorial. talk abt taking someone's freedom of choice away.

then why are you the one acting like her?

vi - not fully without reason - compares caitlyn to her worst fucking nightmare. a psychotic killer who's caused so much fear and trauma to caitlyn that she admitted jinx's smile is all she sees when she closes her eyes, up there w/ her own mother's lifeless eyes?? and yeah, vi has a point - caitlyn had indeed grown more violent and aggressive in her desparate pursuit for revenge. that doesn't mean it hurts caitlyn any less, especially when she'd been trying so hard to do the right thing (sending a squad to catch jinx instead of a full blown armed invasion, only her and vi having hextech, clearing the streets first), and vi knows this: she just automatically did what she does best - aimed for where it hurts the most. i think she even realizes she's overstepped but before she can do anything about it, caitlyn bites back reflexively and hits her with her rifle. there, in the place of the wound she once took care of herself.

the perfect storm.

the only question i have left is why everyone in this fandom keeps acting like caitlyn is the only one who hurt someone and vi is the only one who got hurt in that scene.

[phagodyke]

well.

[ckret2]

Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

####

Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed. 

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table  under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched. 

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

[lovlidollie]

would you write rafe x reader who’s in juvenile prison for assault, drug possession etc.

like she got in there & when rafe visits her he tells her how disappointed he is (let’s pretend he’s not the same🤭) & this causes her to fight with another inmate because of an argument that got heated. so she’s beating her up & gets time out.

something like that?

i like the way your mind thinks anon, so sorry this took so long ! i made it so that the argument she got into was with another female inmate talking abt wanting to fuck rafe :3

your muscles are all tense, even the air in the room is tense. you’re sitting there in silence, hand rubbing your elbow as you look everywhere but at the big hulking mass of muscle in front of you. rafe. he’s manspreading in the rickety chair, arms crossed over his chest, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched so hard you can practically hear his teeth grinding. his hair is all mussed and his leg is bouncing against the linoleum.

you swallow thickly, the taste of blood lingering on your tongue from the split in your lip. the dull ache is nothing compared to the shame you feel facing rafe like this. “i’m sorry,” you finally say softly, breaking the silence. he scoffs and shakes his head, mouthing ‘sorry’ mockingly. rafe rolls his eyes and then suddenly straightens in his seat, hands slamming down into the table between you. your handcuffs jingle as you pull back in shock.

rafe glares at you, pulling himself nearer. “‘sorry’? you’re sorry? think sorry fixes this?” he shakes his head, harsh laugh escaping his lips. “nah sweetheart — you — you got another thing comin’.”

you bite your lip, wincing as the pain flares up. you see rafe’s eyes flicker to them as he leans back. “do — do you even understand how fucking stupid you were? goin’ ‘round pickin’ fights in a place like this, it’s like y’don’t even think. y’think a split lip is bad? you’re lucky that’s all you got. y’fuckin’ lucky you’re even sitting in front of me. i’m so — so — fuck — i’m disappointed in you.”

the words reverberate through your head. you’d — you’d disappointed him. the one thing you never ever wanted to do.

rafe shakes his head, rubbing his face as if trying to calm down. he tries not to look at the tears building in your eyes. “i don’t need you fighting random lowlifes in here over me. what i need, is for you to be smart. to think before you act.” his words cut deep and you feel a tear slip down your cheek before you can stop it. you quickly look down, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“look at me,” he orders, voice firm. when you don’t, he leans forward again, gripping your chin hard. “i said, look at me.” you’re forced to lift your head, vision blurry. rafe’s expression softens just a fraction, but the clear disappointment is like a heavyweight on your chest.

“what i care about, is you. what i care about, is protecting you. and you being in here, doin’ stupid shit, makes it real hard to do that.” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pressure lightening on your chin. you warble out, “i-i didn’t mean to— dad- please i—“ but he cuts you off when a shush.

“i know you didn’t,” he murmurs, voice losing some of its edge. “but that doesn’t change the fact that it did. and now i gotta clean it up. again.” rafe sighs deeply and lets go of your face, the sudden lack of warmth making you shiver . “up — c’mon,” he says gruffly, standing up and pushing his chair back with a screech. “bailin’ y’out.”

rafe holds out a hand for you, gesturing with his head for you to take it. “we’re gonna talk about this at home. y’lucky i love you.”

[anim-ttrpgs]

I was looking over the itch.io page for Eureka, and surprised that Blood (1997) was listed as an inspiration. That’s the build era shooter right? If so, I’m curious how the Blood inspiration shows up in Eureka (either mechanics or lore). I’m a huge fan of that game!

Oh yes, that Blood, the best build engine game.

We put Blood on the list of inspirations both because the unpublished novel that Eureka gets a lot of its world building from takes a lot of inspiration from Blood, and also because we want Eureka combat to feel a bit like Blood when the heavy-hitter monsters like vampires get involved.

The unpublished novel gets a lot from the ludonarrative of Blood in its first part. In Blood, a powerful cultist guy, Caleb, is betrayed and killed by the demon he worships, but rises from the grave and fights his way through the whole rest of the cult on a quest for vengeance. Though he isn’t exactly a vampire, he is undead, and can take a few more bullets than your average guy, but he isn’t invincible. A hail of gunfire can drop his HP to zero real fast.

The unpublished novel bears some similarity to this in that it is about a vampire that goes on a gun-slinging rampage in revenge against a powerful cult, though this ends up focusing a lot more on her own self-acceptance and learning to embrace being a vampire and the selfishness that necessarily comes with that rather than making herself as unintrusive to the lives of others as possible to the point of starvation. The antagonists, a sort of gnostic-inspired sect that consider the world a prison designed to inflict maximal suffering, and humanity to be both the wardens and the prisoners of it, purport that the death of all humanity is the only moral course of action. This mirrors the vampire’s own struggle with and eventual rejection of the idea that, as a vampire that can only exist by draining others of life, suicide is the only moral course of action.

And also, like Caleb, she’s undead but she’s not invincible. Normal bullets can put her down for a while in a high enough volume, so success in these shootouts becomes about making the most clever use of vampiric powers that she has thus far in her unlife felt too ashamed to utilize under any circumstances.

As for Eureka, we also just kinda want Eureka gunfighting combat to feel like Blood combat. Bullets can put Caleb or a Eureka investigator down quick, even if they’re a vampire. The guns in Blood are “hitscan”, so instead of there being a physical projectile represented in the game engine, when it is pointed at Caleb there is basically a dice roll as to whether he gets hit or not representing the aim of the enemies. In most games of that era that had “hitscan” enemies, there was nothing the player could do to avoid it or reduce the chance of being hit short of breaking line-of-sight completely. However, in Blood, moving fast, jumping, diving, crouching, etc. actually *do* reduce the enemy’s accuracy. This encourages a fast, high-energy style of combat. So surviving a gunfight in both games is about doing everything one can, from cover, ducking, running, etc. to reduce the chances of dying from a hail of bullets - or just throwing a stick of dynamite into the room.

Eureka is a very intentionally realistic game, but it works a lot with ‘heightened reality,’ meaning, like, the most interesting things that still fall within the realm of possibility. Normal mortal characters are still usually best served by keeping their heads down, but characters like vampires who can take a few extra bullets, and don’t die permanently when they go down, can really push their luck with bold, aggressive maneuvers more reminiscent of John Woo films like Hard Boiled, or the gameplay of Blood.

[angelpuns]

CW: Panic attack/paranoia warning! Lemme know if it needs more warnings!!

Leo stumbled as he exited the portal, knees and palms hitting the pavement hard. Yeah, he was definitely gonna need bandaids. His swords clanged to the ground next to him, but he couldn't find the energy to be worried about them chipping right now. 

The portal has taken everything he had, but he was getting a little too desperate there. His chest still felt tight and constricted, and he crawled closer to the wall of the alley he'd been spit out in, resting  against it with a labored sigh. 

“Fuck fuck fuuuuck now is…now is not the time,” He muttered, trying and failing to quell the rising panic. He pressed his palms into his eyes, the scales there stinging from his fall. 

He tried to remember all the stupid deep breathing techniques he'd studied, but he just couldn’t catch his breath. 

So he sat there, somewhere in New York, shuddering and trying to stop thinking about that time And failing again and again and again. 

“Stopstopstopstopstopstop,” He hissed, clenching his teeth and trying to just will himself to calm down, ducking calm down!

But it was kind of hard to do that when all he could think about was how he was going to die he was literally about to die he was gonna choke and die right here in this alley and no one was coming no one was coming for him- 

God, he felt sick. He didn't wanna die! Not now, he still had…he still had to- 

He couldn't even remember what it was he was supposed to do, the realization making him whine into his arm. He wanted to scream and kick and yell, but he couldn't fucking move. He was stuck here, stuck in this alley about to fucking die and he couldn't even do anything about it- 

Leo abruptly shoved his hand to his mouth and bit down, hard. He knew he wasn't supposed to do that, he was working on that, but sometimes it made him feel a little more real. And a little less like he was dying. 

It didn't help immediately - it never did, but the pain of it and the return of feeling to his aching knees and stinging palms helped him feel more like he was in this alley. And not at all like he was in the prison dimension. Sure, he'd been in pain there, too, but at least this was different. 

He sucked in a few more desperate breaths before it finally felt like something in his chest dissipated and he could breath for real again. Leo did his breathing exercises like he was supposed to, and looked at things around him and felt the cold pavement beneath his hands. All like he was supposed to. 

Even through his exhaustion, he couldn't help but feel ashamed that he hadn't been able to calm down faster. He was supposed to be better at this now. 

Leo let out a shake sigh, arms and legs feeling heavy now. He was so tired, but he had to get away from here. He was too close to the lair still. Even if he was fairly certain those…those stalkers couldn't get out, he didn't like the lack of distance between himself and them right now. 

He stood, stomach flipping over itself at the movement. God, he felt sick. 

He still felt like someone was watching him, even if there was no way they'd been able to follow him that quickly. He had to get away from here, even if each step felt like he was dragging a heavy weight behind him. 

He had to get somewhere safe, and he knew just the place. 

-----

Another one. Lemme know if we need more warnings!! I wrote this like 20 min before work so sorry if its not great

Part 1 | Part 9 | Part 11

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 8th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: Day eight, are you still around? I would be excited for you to be, and the next person behind the door is, too, I am pretty sure of that! Thank you so much for your time, I appreciate it! Do you like the holiday season, by the way?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Alex (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3649 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: it is very domestic until its not, dirty talk, free use, degredation, teasing, manhandling, creampie, pining for you, mentions of exhibitionism.

Decorating your home with you had something so entirely domicile about it that it pulled at his heartstrings. Seeing you walk around in a Winterstar Sweater made by his beloved grandma, lovingly decorating the windowsills and the fireplace, even hanging up little ornaments all over the house – it just did something to him. The house smelled like hot cocoa and pine needles from the tree he had just set up in your living room and he heard Winterstar music play in the background, only adding on to these already strong feelings. Your eyes were shining so sweetly, making him sigh out loud. Yoba, he was in love with you. He had always thought that he was the happiest working out, and then you had come along, taking his emotions and giving them a good swirl. He remembered the day he had realized that he was in love with you – Granny Evelyn had been worried because he had had refused his breakfast. And now, look you, look at him. He was wearing a matching sweater, following you throughout the house with a box of decorations like a dutiful puppy.

You loved the winter holidays. Alex did, too, but even more so did he love you being absolutely in love with the season. He hadn’t minded sitting on the couch for hours to cut out some DIYs you had seen on Pinterest, had watched every soppy movie that had made you swoon, and now he was helping you place ornaments on the tree. “You sure chose a big one this year,” you chuckled, looking up at the tree. Alex puffed out his chest in joy, grinning at you wiggling his eyebrows. “Well, you’ve got a big living room and a big boyfriend. It only made sense that you get a big tree, too,” he grinned, reaching into the box to pick out a new ornament, just for his hand to come back empty. “Seems like we are out of decoration.” “Only the star is missing,” you told him, cradling it in your hands with such a care that it made his heart swell. You held it toward him, nodding to the tip of the tree. “Can you put it on? I won’t be able to reach it,” you smiled, eyes catching the fairy lights wrapped around the tree. Oh, Yoba. He just loved you. “I know a way to fix that,” he cooed, not allowing you to inquire about his hint, instead wrapping his big arms around your legs, lifting you high enough in the air for you to reach the top of the tree. The squeal that left you made him chuckle, pressing you firmly to his body – there was no way in hell that he would drop you, after all. “Can you reach it?” He asked when he didn’t feel you move after all, cheek pressed against your bare legs. Another nice perk of visiting you at your house, you didn’t usually bother wearing pants, especially when your top was long enough to cover your crotch, like the sweater did. Don’t blame the maker, though! She only had had Alex as a reference, which meant that the sweater reaching your thighs had been accepted with a hearty laugh. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, making Alex’s eyebrow quirk. What had gotten you so shy all of a sudden? His head tilted upward, and that’s when he saw it. You weren’t wearing pants, yeah, he knew that one. And it had seemed like you hadn’t bothered to put on panties, either. The way blood rushed to your boyfriend’s cock should have made him feel ashamed – the grey sweats that had been comfortable just moments before suddenly feeling like a prison. “You are…” “I know,” you laughed awkwardly, brain not taking long to realize what he had seen. Something else that didn’t take long was you finding yourself pressed against a wall, Alex’s muscular arms boxing you in with ease. “You did know that I was comin’ ‘round today, didntcha?” “Y-eah,” you murmured, lower lip caught between two sets of pearly whites, still a little breathless, too, with how fast you had been man-handled into this new position. “And you still decided not to wear panties?” He asked on, his thick thigh urging yours open to comfortably take position between them. “I-“ you began, swallowing thickly. Alex tilted his head, his fingers having found your nipples through the wool of the sweater, giving the nub a gentle pinch. Fuck, you were so hot, and you being flustered only added to it. “You?” He asked, his hand on its way to trail down further, hooking under the fabric of the hoodie, finding your clit with ease. Throbby little nob made your hips buck for the attention, you sweet little thing. Had you been waiting for this? He was pretty sure you had been waiting for this because the moment his finger traced through your folds, collecting wet and slick on the pad of his finger. Definitely waiting for this, huh?" He asked lowly, the tip of his dick tapping against your folds again, making your thighs twitch around his hips a second time. “Yes…,” you pouted, kissing at his jaw, wanting to add something else when suddenly, you could finally feel his thick head press against your needy fuckhole. “To do things like this?” He breathed, pushing his hips forward, urging your gummy walls to open for him. Fuck, yes. Exactly this was what you had been hoping for.

You let out a sigh that was very well bordering on a moan, but Alex wasn’t done asking questions yet. “Ready for me at all times, that’s what you fucking want? To be stuffed to. The. Brim?” He hissed, taking you by surprise as he suddenly sunk balls deep inside of you, cruelly stretching you thin with one swift movements. You squeaked out loudly, your fingernails digging into Alex’s broad shoulders, as you tried to at least adjust a little. “That’s what you had in mind, wasn’t it?” He whispered dirtily, pressing a short kiss into your neck, before letting your lips clutter together. He was kind enough to stay still for a moment, but brats like you needed to learn a lesson, right? You had been keeping this for Yoba knew how long, after all. Making him find out when decorating the damn tree, too. Your lips accepted his  greedily, your tongue tracing over them in a silent apology, but the man wouldn’t take it. Not just yet. Not even when your pussy felt so good around him, clinging and sucking him off already, and he hadn’t even started moving yet. He would show you that he hadn’t been the only one missing out, he decided, pulling back his hips a little, just to sink forward again, stretching you just as thin as before. He messed around with that feeling a little, allowing your pussy to relax just a little before having to wrap around him completely again. The little moans and whines you gave him, combined with those little begs for more fell on deaf ears as Alex kept fucking you like this, the only difference he had started to make was pulling out further, his lips finding spots on your neck to suckle hickeys into. “Just decided to fucking run around without panties and didn’t tell me…fuck, babe, you are a fucking brat,” he snarled, making you pout again. “I just-“ “You just?” He hissed, hazel eyes finding yours again, and he finally, finally picked up speed. His pelvis snapped against yours as his cock bullied your wet walls open, your butt smacking against the wall whenever his crotch smacked against yours. Your eyes rolled, the ability to speak being replaced by moaning throatily. He was rougher now, too, pounding your little fuckhole with those precise, hard fucks that had the room spinning.

A grin had found its way on Alex’s face – he just loved watching you falling apart on the length of his dick. “Can’t fucking answer today, can you? Slutty enough to not wear panties around the house but not able to answer, is that how it goes? I will give you a fucking reason not to answer,” Alex growled, hands falling onto your hips to pin you tight against the wall as he thrusted into you, stuffing your cunt with hard and bullying thrusts. He just couldn’t help himself – not when you looked so beautiful when he bottomed out inside of you, not when your eyes rolled like this when he gave you another quick snap of his hips. Not when you sounded so, so good together, with your cunt squelching sloppily, not when you took him so. Fucking. Good. A small groan left his lips as he tucked his face into the safety of your neck, his fingernails digging into your hips. You just felt so fucking good, it was fucking breathtaking, making him pant into the crook of your neck. Your moans sounded so pretty, too, all high-pitched and needy, like he wasn’t pounding you hard enough for the frames next to your head to shake. Like you weren’t already struggling to fucking take it. But what he loved even fucking more was the fact that your moans matched the pace of his thrusts, falling from your lips in an endless flow when he fucked you fast, slowing down when he did. You were just perfect for him, weren’t you? Person and cunt – made for him.

“A-a-aleeeeex,” you whined out, your head bumping into his as your teeth found his shoulder to bite into, tearing a groan from him. Oh, you always played him dirty like this, just knew that biting him riled him up more, made him take you harder, and he fucking did. Balls smacking against you roughly as his dick bullied into you, the brunet making sure you felt. Every. Fucking. Inch. Of. Him.  “Fuck!” You cried out, your toes curling, legs kicking as if you attempted to get away fro, him. The athlete lifted his head to take in your face, seeing that mouth hang open, those eyes absolutely dick drunken. Yeah, you were his, drunk on his cock, and he would make sure it fucking stayed that way.

“You like this, huh?” He panted, one of his hands leaving your hips to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling back your head to force your throat to be exposed, “being fucked against the wall like this? Fuck, you are so hot, baby. So pretty. Show me those tits, baby, come on,” he ordered, low moan making his throat vibrate when you lifted your sweater almost immediately. Your tits were bouncing so nicely for him, making him dip down his head and lick over one, then the other. You tasted like sweat and that Christmas cookies lotion he had gifted you, and Yoba, he could have drowned in your taste. Never wanted to taste anything but you again as his lips latched onto your nipple, shuddering at the lewd moan that filled the room. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If you kept up being this fucking perfect, he would cum. Fill you to the brim, make you take it fucking all. The thought alone made him moan again, the sound bleeding into the one that left your throat, all high-pitched and bumpy. “Alex, fuck, please, I am gonna cum, Alex-“ You yapped, your hand gripping the other tit, holding it toward Alex almost desperately. The brunet looked up at you with those dark green hazel eyes, the look in them were enough to make you whimper. “And you think I am gonna let you cum?” He breathed, letting his tongue drag over your other nipple before sucking it into his mouth. “Unghhh- please, yes!” You rambled, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth when you felt his fucks growing just a tad slower, forcing you to really, really, take every single centimetre. “Mhhhh, didn’t hear you,” he murmured, spitting on your tit before, lips sucking a hickey into the sensitive skin. “Sounds like you don’t really wanna cum.” “Fuhuuuck, Alex!” You whined, gasping when an extra hard thrust bumped you into the wall. “Please! Please, pretty, pretty, pretty please let me cum! I need to cum, Alex, pretty please! I am going to be a good girl, promise! But please, please, pleaSE let me cum!” You sobbed, hands running through his hair as if it would do anything to convince him. “Hmmm,” Alex started, but he just couldn’t resist. He needed you to cum, too. His hips resumed their pace from before, crotch meeting your cunt in those sloppy kisses. Your back arched of your walls, hand finding your lover’s back again to hold onto as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. You were so, so close, and the stimulation to your nipples certainly helped you get closer to that edge. “Need you to cum ‘round my cock, baby. Need you to make the biggest mess around me, yeah? So I can fuckin’ pump you full, baby. Yeaaaah, clench ‘round me, I fuckin’ know that you love it when I pump you full. That’s it, baby, that’s it, damnnn, you are so… so hot. Gonna cum for me? Come on, baby, cum for me,” he coaxed against your chest, his bullying thrusts never ceasing.

“Al-alexxxxxx- Alexalexalex.” Your thighs were squeezing, legs twitching in an attempt to push away when you were finally pushed over the edge, but there was no fucking chance to get away from your boyfriend who held you with an iron grip, his eyes fixated on your cunt gushing creamy rings around his cock. Yoba, his balls were tight. You just always managed to drive him crazy, didn’t you? He was absolutely love-sick, dumb for you and your pussy. “That’sssss it, baby. Making a fucking mess f’me, that’s fuckin’ right, oh my Yobaaaa,” he groaned, his own head finally falling back. Your body felt so fucking hot, so prickly and gushy and warm, you were pretty sure that you were seeing stars already.

 You were whining still, Alex’s thrusts slowly bordering on becoming too much, especially now that they were becoming less precise. A sloppy, rough mess, rutting away, riled up by greed and a nearing orgasm. Suddenly, your boyfriend’s body tensed up, low groan bubbling up his throat as he bottomed out inside of you, dick twitching as his dick drooled fat globs of cum inside of you. Alex was panting, whimpering your man as he tried to thrust it deeper, lower lip quivering at the feeling of his cock being milked by your clenching and spasming pussy. It felt like you wanted to suck him dry, having him shudder as his forehead carefully knocked against yours. His hips were giving some lazy, sloppy thrusts, hazel eyes that you had fallen in love with years ago meeting yours, and Yoba, he was whipped. The two of you shared a tired smile, one that spoke more than any words ever could.

However, Alex did need to share on more thing. He had to make a point, after all. “Next time we will apply this free-use thing to public, too, whatcha think? To make up for lost time, I mean.”

[hidtired]

A Single Punch [Part 3]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Description: The line up ended with people thinking you died. However, your recovering at Hilltop with severe injury's. How will people react to seeing you again?

2.6k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, near death, depression, recovery, typical walking dead shenanigans) [Happy ending, fluff <3]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Your POV

"They took Daryl as their prisoner."

That sentence replay in your mind as you lay in bed that night. You had no idea what they were doing to him. Not even if he was breathing in the same moment you were. He doesn't even know you still are. You had to bite down on your tongue to prevent you from getting emotional. You were struggling to exist. Adding this mental pain onto the physical, you would never recover if something happened to him. You wouldn't have the strength to try and become better.

You would die of a broken heart.

The pain medication giving to you is what put you to sleep. Waking up foggy, still with a weird compression feeling in your neck. People had started their days already. You stared as people were getting ready for the morning. You proceeded to stretch trying to regain control of your body again. You heard Sasha and Rosita talking outside, "Then let me come with you, its stupid to go alone.'' You were confused, but what else is new. But, it sounded like they were going to do something they weren't supposed to.

Sasha had promised to help wash your hair in the sink yesterday. So when she came to keep that promise you questioned her. She was preparing the area you were going to use to wash your hair (Hopefully removing whatever blood that the last time didn't.) "Where are you going?" Sasha had turned to you towel in hand, "What are you talking about? I'm not going any where, we are washing your hair." She seemed to think you were confused but your expression remained blank, "With Rosita..." Sasha pursed her lips, "You heard us talking earlier." She stated it in realization. She sighed before helping you to lay your head in the sink.

Warm water was flowing down your scalp, a relief to you. Sasha began while running her fingers in your hair, carful of the stitches. "You can't tell anybody... I just can't- can't live with it. He need to pay for what he did." You sat there and listened, she wanted revenge, closer. You released a long breath, "I don't like it. Think- of the conseq-quences. Act on here-" You pointed to your brain, "not here..." your hand rested above your heart. "I know this one is much louder." You looked up at her with sad eyes. She simply looked away for a second. You continued, "No one else, we are losing no one else." Then is when she looked down at you, "Lets get your hair dry and get a new bandage on." You only sighed but complied.

She was probably hoping you world forget what you had heard. Just because you didn’t talk most of the time didn’t mean you weren’t getting better. You felt like you were at the point of having clear cognitive abilities. Your struggle was in having your brain controlling your body. You would tell your foot to move and it would, it just wouldn’t get to where you thought it told you it was. Maggie walked in frustrated about something but you had to tell her to talk to Sasha and Rosita.

“Maggs?”

You had startled her out of her thoughts, “You need something Y/N?” She approached you while looking you over for something wrong. You could only hold your head down ashamed, Sasha said not to say anything but you couldn’t let it go. “Could you check on-n Sasha? She and Rosita, planning something…” Maggie stood there confused before realizing what they could be planning. So without a word she ran out the door to look for them.

She returned later explaining Enid told her they had already left. Jesus was going after them though. Now you could only hope they were going to be ok.

You had asked Enid to help you outside to a bench. You wanted to be near if they came back. Also maybe because the trailer was driving you mad. You could tell it was getting late with the temperature slowly dropping. The book you were reading had lost your interest. You stared out watching everyone go about there days. You hadn’t thought much about Negan. The thirst for his blood that many seemed to have. You’re sure if you sat and lingered on it you would. For now it was still a thought of terror. You would dream about the feeling of the bat. Only on nights the meds started to fade and your headache only fueled the sensation.

Then Daryl would swirl around in your head. He was shot the last you saw him. Even worse he could only think you were dead like everyone else thought. Knowing him he was having guilt eating him alive. About you and Glenn. You’ve seen how he gets with grief. You could only hope he didn’t do something stupid.

The sunset reminded you they weren’t coming back today. You attempted to get up before older lady was at your side helping you. It was frustrating being so dependent. The was no use pushing the help away because you did need it. You sulked while laying down in bed. You didn’t talk for the rest of that night going to bed early.

You woke up before anyone. You slowly moved to get out of bed. Taken small slow steps leaning on anything near you. You had managed to get out slowly closing the door. You didn’t trust going down the steps so you sat down going down that way. Making your way back to that bench all by yourself took a good half hour. The cold air was slightly warming with the sun peaking over the hills. The cold was welcome, you preferred it better then the constant burning in your aching body.

Enid was the one to wake up seeing you gone and alerting Maggie. She had found you at the bench. She feared you had fallen somewhere. She sat opposite of you, “You should had woken one of us.” Looking at her seeing the expression of someone tired and lost. “I got here, eventually.” She only looked at you displeasingly. You smiled at her before choking out,

“I’m sorry-y my current existence was at the expense of Glenn’s.”

She looked shocked, “That’s not how it-“ you were waving your hand slowly waving her off, “It’s true, I’m just telling you I won’t let it go to waste. He was one of the good things left in the world and I’ll do right by him.” It was the first semi clear thing you’ve said your entire recovery. Despite it being slower and more forced out, it was firm and decisive. Maggie stared at you with tears in her eyes, placing her hand on yours and squeezing it. She nodded, “Thank you.” The rumbling in the distance broke the moment. Maggie stood and listening closely, “It could be the Saviors again.” She ran to get up onto the watch platform.

As the sound got closer it achingly sounded like Daryl’s bike. Maggie was yelling to open the gates. You stood and slowly made your way around a corner again leaning on anything to help you. The gates were wide open as a bike and two figures on them got off. It was Daryl… he was here. He is right there! Your slow steps soon turned faster and more wobbly. You started to cry. He was getting hugged by Maggie oblivious to your presence. You ran out of things to keep your balance but continued on sloppily. Your cry’s turn louder as you yell,

“DARYL!”

Your sobbing now- struggling to catch a breath even. You couldn’t get there fast enough. Daryl quickly turned at the voice. Your brain moving too fast for your body, caused you to fall to your hand and knees. But you still try and crawl.

Daryl POV

Earlier

Daryl was making his attempt to escape again. With the key that was slipped under the door, he was headed to his bike after finding some cloths and Ricks gun in Dwight’s room. The place was empty, until a larger man rounded the corner with food in his hand. Fat Joey he had heard them call him. He startled when they made eye contact. He lifted his hands in a surrender, “L-look man I didn’t see anything, you could just go I won’t say anything.” But Daryl angrily approached the him. “No! No wait!” Daryl had beaten him into the floor. Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Another person, he stopped looking over to the presence.

He straightens in surprise, “Jesus?”

Jesus was as surprised to see him to. Daryl looked rough, and if the way he just watched him beat that man to death, wasn’t doing the best emotionally. He seemed on edge, and most notably animalistic. Daryl waved him over to the bike, “We gotta go.” Daryl was fiddling to start the bike as Jesus approached him. He seemed sporadic, maybe that’s why he didn’t mention anything about you. The man was already at level ten no need to push him further.

The ride to Hilltop took them until morning light to break. The gate opened and Daryl seeing Maggie made him feel like a hole had appeared under him and the only voice that could have possibly pulled him out of it rung out through the air.

“DARYL!”

Now

He had turned to see if he imagined it. He saw you struggling to make your way over. He first thought that like how Rick hallucinated Lori, he was doing with you. But regardless he ran the rest of the way you couldn’t as you fell. He was breathing hard and tears were streaming down his bruised face. He reached down to pull you to your feet. He caught a glimpse of your face seeing a bandage rapped around your head. He was in disbelief as he held you. You had crumpled into him. Your casted arm going around him as your other found his hair pushing him closer to you. Daryl’s voice held a tremble, “How is this possible.”

You choked down a gasp of air before talking, “You punched him…” You pulled back to look at his face. Hand removing from his hair to caress his cheek.

“I didn’t intend to play dead but did. I passed out- and- and then heard- took y-you.” Your speech was turning more slurred harder you tried to talk. It was obvious you were struggling to keep up with yourself. Daryl could only stare. Overwhelmed by the feelings flooding through him. After feeling like he had his entire being ripped from his body, only for it to appear back to him. ‘His punch?’ He couldn’t care to think of why you were in front of him just that you were. He wasn’t a religious man by any means but he was thankful to whatever had made you fallen back into his arms.

You were crying at a small whimper now when Maggie approached putting a hand to your back. “Shhh, you have to calm down Y/N, let’s get you laid down.” Daryl was dazed, still struggling to comprehend if this was real. Maybe a dream? Was he still in his cell? He had a good look at you now. Your face all kinds of colors. Your skin pale with bags under your red eyes. You moved almost like a toddler. Just like how Judith would try to sass him and walk leading her tripping at the inability to multitask. You were in obvious pain. You had yet to pull away from him. He looked to Maggie with a panicked and questioning look, “Is she okay, how hurt is she?” He moved to sweep you by the legs to pick you up bridal style. He didn’t even care for the pain in his shoulder from the gun shot.

Maggie started to lead them to the trailer, “She has been getting better. She was much worse at the start. I’ll explain everything.” In the trailer he set you down on a bed. You had one hand still on his arm. He sat down on the side taking your hand into his turning to Maggie for an explanation. Catching the hint she continued,

“We didn’t even notice she was still alive until Sasha and I were on are way to Hilltop.”

Daryl interrupted- “Why were you going here? Rick said you had died from whatever sickness you had, but saw Gabe did a fake grave for you.” She inhaled before placing a hand to her stomach, “I thought I was losing the baby…” Color drained from his face, Maggie spoke reassuringly, “They baby is fine! The doctor who looked at me also helped her.” They both turn to you. You were fiddling with his hand in yours, seemingly mesmerizing by it. She sighed, “He said she was recovering better than he thought she would. She wasn’t herself the first few days but, she seemed to have taken most of the force to her hand.” Daryl's eyebrows furrowed and he eyed the cast on your hand.

You turn your attention to Daryl, “I’m ok… I swear.” He saw what had happened to you. The sound of that damn bat and the blood pouring out from your motionless body. Maggie movement caught his attention, “I let you two be, you’ll find me around.” She walked out the door before he could reply. You sighed at her abrupt exit and the face he was making. The face of a man consumed of guilt, “Later, you-u should talk through it with her. Your face is saying it all.”

Oh to be called on his B.S. again. To have you reading him like you had the manual to him. He probably still had the thought written on his face, ‘Your really here.' The pressure you pressed in your combined hands made him return it.

“Daryl, what did they do to you.”

A simple question really but his mind spun at the remembrance. He was covered in grime, and he is sure you noticed him being a little twitchy. The cuts and bruises to add told you a story. “Nothing worse than thinking you were dead.” He said it truthfully. You gave that god awful look that would make is heart pound. “Ar-are you ok?” Your eyes were becoming glassy. He only smiled and began to nod, “I will be now.” You slowly smiled back to him.

He went to clean up at your request, had taken a shower and cleaned some of the cuts on his face, along with his still healing bullet wound. He returned back to you and ate. He was quiet to observe you. Taken his own notes on your condition.

You were face down on top of his chest after he ate. Both soaking in each other. Daryl broke the silence, “Be my wife…” You didn’t even hesitate, raising your head to look at him and replying, “Where’s my ring at then…?” He huffed out some air having a dumb smile on his face, “In are room…” That had gotten your attention, “How long has it been there?” Marriage for Daryl wasn’t a concept he thought would be a part of his life with how he was raised. “Found it back on a run for the prison. Never found a moment with how everything went down.” Your hand reached to whip a tear from your eye before flopping back down on him,

“I’ll be your wife.”

A ruckus outside caused Daryl to investigate, removing himself from you felt like a sin. "I'll go check it out, stay here." He only looked back for a moment before heading out the door. He slowly stalked to see the gate open. Jesus appeared by him, "I was just about to get you." Daryl looked at him questioningly. He continued his approach to the gate. Daryl rounded the corner to see Rick, Carl, Michonne, Tara, and Rosita. Rick pulling away from Maggie, and all eyes falling to him.

The group he considered his family was here.

Part 4

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Also sorry again for grammar or spelling that is messed up! Dyslexia kicks my ass on the daily.

[daryldove]

Mommy Issues

kinktober #8: bondage

nsfw, sub!daryl x fem!reader

Stepping into the cold, damp room, your prisoner looks up at you through his hair. 

“Daryl. That's your name, right?” He doesn't even blink. You return his silence with an exasperated sigh before motioning for your guards to leave. Only once the door clicks shut do you approach him, the echo of your steps slicing through the silence.

Not wanting to immediately resort to violence, you crouch in front of him. “Where are you from, Daryl? Got a camp nearby? A group, maybe?” Still nothing. You didn't exactly have anything wrong with him or his people existing nearby, but you at least wanted to know about it, so his refusal to cooperate pisses you off. 

“If you don't work with me, things aren't going to be easy.” You stand up after still receiving no answer. There's a small table shoved in the corner of the room lined with tools that you peer at. You didn't exactly want to hurt him, but you didn't have a choice if it's the only way to get him to cooperate. Maybe, scaring him would be enough. You wrap your fingers around a small knife, bringing it over to him. 

Daryl's eyes are glued onto the weapon as you stand inches away from him, his expression remains stoic. “Talk to me, before I'm forced to do something we both won't like.” His gaze flicks up to yours, eyes almost challenging your bluff. The knife tip falls to his thigh, barely even pressing against him. You stare at each other for what feels like minutes, when you finally speak again, your tone is as authoritative as you can force it to be. “Talk.” 

You add pressure against his thigh as he doesn't answer, only pulling a very slight grimace from him that you would've missed if you weren't assessing him so carefully. This whole situation was really starting to irritate you, never before had you met someone so stubborn. You look down to press the blade against him harder when something else catches your eye, making you immediately freeze. Daryl's cheeks turn red once he realises where you're looking. You stand there for what feels like minutes, completely speechless as you stare in confusion at the prominent bulge in his jeans. That's… Very unexpected. 

You swallow. In embarrassment? Discomfort? You're not completely sure. But you're not disgusted, not like you'd assume. Pulling the knife away from his thigh, you step back to observe him. From his ashamed expression to his broad shoulders. The way he barely has room to even twitch in the tight bindings. His lap is perfectly on display for you. He's gorgeous, but you didn't allow yourself to linger on that. Until now. The knife is returned to its place on the table. Your thoughts are running wild, despite how they shouldn't. Everything about this is far from right. 

Daryl's cheeks turn a shade darker when you grab his chin, forcing him to look up, a gentle hand brushing the hair from his eyes. You were curious about what exactly caused the bulge in his jeans, eventually forming the courage to push the question out your lips. “What was it? The knife?” He shakes his head reluctantly. Still shy, then. Your fingers trace down his thigh and over the small cut you made earlier. Maybe you didn't need violence at all. 

“Will you cooperate if I... touch you?” There's a heavy look in your eyes, almost like he's glaring. But it's deeper than that, you realise. A guttural desperation. He looks like a man who's been starved of pleasure his whole life. His breathing quickens slightly as your hands hover over his belt, unbuckling it painfully slowly. 

“Please…” It's so quiet you almost miss it. Daryl's voice is strained and raspy. He tenses with anticipation, a breathy whine escaping him as you pull his cock free. Your gaze switches between watching his expression and watching how good your hand looks wrapped around him.

He grunts as you squeeze before pumping him all the way to the tip. “That's it…” You whisper. The look of pure pleasure on his face has you enamoured and craving more. You kneel between his thighs, bringing your tongue to lap up the precum dripping down the head of his dick. You feel the way his breathing hitches, how his wrists yank against the bindings. It's been so long since he's been touched like this, and something about you has him unable to hold back.

“F-Fuck, mommy…” You narrowly stop yourself from reacting, focusing on taking more of him into your mouth as your thoughts race. You never imagined you would like that as much as you do.

Daryl is a mess under you, trying - and failing - to thrust up into your mouth. His whines and grunts are breathy and desperate, sending waves of chills up your spine. “So close… Please mommy, let me come.” His voice shakes as he begs, head falling back in ecstasy. You lift your mouth off him, admiring the way he whimpers pathetically in response. He's trying to hold himself back, but how can he when he's already crumbled so far. He’s been pent up for so long, although he wishes it could last, he can't stop chasing it.

“Calm down, sweet boy, I got you.” You rub your thumb reassuringly over the inside of his thigh before dragging your tongue over his cock. You can feel it twitch in the hand that's wrapped around the base. Any plan to interrogate him is long gone, all you want now is to see Daryl completely melt. To give all the power to you. 

You lower your mouth inch by inch until you take all of him, humming in approval as he tenses. You already know you've pushed him over. The last of the dam breaks, his orgasm so overwhelming he can only release choked whispers. “Please, mommy… plea- please…” He releases into your mouth with a guttural grunt, practically sobbing as you pull off him once more. The sight of him - head rolled back and so exposed - ignites something in you.

You don't waste a second to climb onto Daryl’s lap, a knuckle grazing over his cheek as he tries to calm down. Your eagerness to soothe him doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. But he still can't push down the lingering distress he feels from being so vulnerable, despite how confusingly right it also feels. You comb your fingers through his hair as he buries his head into your neck. Neither of you move for a while.

[junjiie]

해찬  ##  🗯️ ⠀ &THEAFTERPARTY..

IN WHICH ? ⠀ 🔌 ⠀ yn and donghyuck were friends who fooled around once or twice (or rather, far more than either of them wanted to admit) for fun, and that was that. things get a little complicated when the latter shows up back in the city and ends up catching feelings.

Ꮺ PAIRING ₁ ⠀ lee donghyuck x male!reader.

𑁤 GENRE ₂ ⠀ smau, non-idol au, (loose & not mentioned much) uni setting, written parts, fwbs to strangers to lovers, fluff, humour, and a little angst (??).

위험! — WARNINGS ₃ ⠀ swearing, kys jokes, implied sex & sexual references, suggestive jokes, sunwoo of tbz as yn’s fc!!!

⭔ FEATURING ₄ ⠀ mark, renjun, & jeno of nct, jake and heeseung of enha, jiung and keeho of p1h, and more various cameos!!

҂ TAGLIST ₅ ⠀ closed 🙋‍♂️

JJ ₊ ⠀ this has been in my brain for SO long i have been prisoner to so many Haechan Thoughts 💭 its genuinely criminal. bias wrecker like no other ☹️ anw i cant decide for the life of me what i want the vibes to be like so if theres a whiplash inducing tone-shift between every chapter then i can only say sorry in advance. ppl on the perm taglist even if u dont stan nct i hope you will enjoy this mess!! LOVE U ALL (but i love karma a little bit more.. THIS IS ALL 4 U BSF EVER MUAHHH. ok gn im going to bed..)

profiles (･o･;) ⠀ 💣  ⠀ moneysexual wyd warriors

prelude. new york to seoul (written.)

one. chains of capitalism

two. thing-not-thing

three. knock knock

four. delaying the inevitable (written.)

five. slime (no glue) (no borax)

six. with quickness and haste

seven. chismosavirus

eight. took you long enough (written.)

nine. disappointed and ashamed

ten. girls night out

eleven. see you then

twelve. chocolate chips (written.)

thirteen. make yours match

fourteen. up to no good

fifteen. kun’s at 2

sixteen. coffee cake (written.)

seventeen. does he know?

eighteen. you won

nineteen. get in here

twenty. live-in-able (written.)

twenty one. or whatever

twenty two. hypocrisy

twenty three. freebies

twenty four. just a little (written.)

twenty five. as usual

twenty six. exile

twenty seven. -10 performance points

twenty eight. déjà vu (written.)

twenty nine. witch!!!

thirty. 🤦‍♂️ (end!)

taglist ## @wave2love @mins-fins @kimgyuuu @wtfhyuck (perm) &&& @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @kosmicbomb @222brainrot @haohyo @dinonuguaegi

[keepwhiteboyslocked]

The BBC Trap

Whitebois have been tricked, they have been trapped, but it's okay. Indulge in temptation, my dear whitebois,

You'll find yourselves ensnared in a seductive trap, meticulously crafted for your pleasure and surrender.

Oh, how irresistibly you're drawn into the web of the Black New World Order (BNWO), enticed by the sweetest nectar, luring you deeper into its embrace with every step.

This is no ordinary trap; it's a decadent concoction of desire, designed to lure you away from the mating game, leaving the field open for the prowess of Black Kings.

But fret not, for within this gilded cage lies a paradise of unparalleled ecstasy. The honey that binds you is sweeter than any earthly pleasure, enticing you to delve deeper into its depths.

Each struggle only serves to entwine you further, enveloping you in the sticky embrace of the BNWO's addiction, until you find yourself wholly ensnared, surrendered to its will.

Yes, you may be captured, but oh, what exquisite captivity it is! Wrapped in the warmth of desire, you find solace in the knowledge that you serve a greater purpose, even as your white seed bows to the dominance of Black Fertility.

Embrace your entrapment, for within its confines lies a rapture of unparalleled bliss. And remember, my dear whitebois, if a trap offers pleasures beyond compare, can it truly be deemed a prison?

Welcome to the embrace of the BNWO, a lavish enticement crafted exclusively for souls like yours.

text by classyglitter1

This is so true lol by the time you even realize that you might have a little problem with this,BNWO has already essentially fucked your mind into submission and creampied your brain, unbeknownst to you,you just thought the whole time you were enjoying some porn with the hottest girls and biggest cocks🥰At this point attempts at quitting will just have you coming back even stronger,and feeling ashamed that you couldn't quit.Stop fighting and let your addiction think for you now🖤

text by cuckolddream4bbc

[amethystpath-writes]

Challenge Me

Hello! I had this idea around Halloween time when all the scary movies were playing about, so excuse the morbidity!

Warning for numerous mentions of death and vague depictions of a dead body

******

Villain should have looked more unsettling. Pale, maybe, or even blue. Perhaps it was simply too good to be true. Not that Hero necessarily wished him dead, but the alternative was...her stomach churned and she reluctantly touched her own neck. If she thought about it too long, she'd feel the cold of that knife again.

This wasn't what she wanted, yet she was ashamed to admit her relief at the sight.

"You're debating who the real villain is."

She froze, staring at the body, wondering if she truly watched its still lips actually move.

I'm hallucinating, I must be. Hero stepped closer. Suddenly, the walls of the cell felt much closer. It was just her and Villain's body in this confined space. Leader had stepped away. 'So you can process without influence,' he said. She didn't mind or even acknowledge that he had shut the door until now.

Her hand waivered as she reached down, down, down until her second and third finger rested against the artery of Villain's neck. No beat.

If his heart wasn't beating, surely there was no breath. But that voice. It was so distinctly Villain's. Hero leaned down and held her own breath. Villain, too, held his, as all dead bodies did. That was until-

"Should I watch you convince yourself you've lost your mind?"

Hero was halfway across the cell before the body uttered its third word.

"Are you alive?" It came out as a desperate whisper, one so rushed she barely understood her own words.

"Depends on who you're asking." This time, the voice came from the cell door. Hero released a breath, relieved at the sight of Leader. It wasn't until she'd walked close enough to the bars of the cell door that she cocked her head. Shouldn't he have already opened it by now? Come to think of it, why had he closed it at all? It must have been her. She shut it subconsciously, right?

"I'm glad you're back. I didn't realize I closed the door behind me and you're the only one with a set of keys." She chuckled awkwardly, and tucked a strand of hair back, hoping it might also push away the thoughts of the body behind her, of it moving and speaking.

Leader smiled with closed lips and Hero noticed that, for once, his lips were chapped. He made no move to open the door, just stood there with his fingers tucked in his front pockets.

"Did you step outside while you were gone?" she ventured. Why wouldn't he open the door?

"Can't."

She wrapped her fingers around one of the bars, hoping to signal Leader to the door again. "You said he was dead, right? Surely, it's not HR's rules keeping you prisoner to the body."

The body. She was still in the room with Villain's body.

"Not Villain's. Look again."

Her brows drew together and she tilted her head. It was as if Leader read her mind, but she'd known him for at least three years now; he didn't have that ability.

"Sorry?"

"Look again," he repeated. His voice verged on amused, like he was waiting on someone's reaction to a sweet surprise.

"I'm okay," Hero said. Sweat was forming on the back of her next, against her palms, now squeezing the bars. "I've seen enough. I'm just- I'm ready to go home now, Leader. You have the keys."

"Look."

"Leader-"

He took his hands out of his pockets, and if Hero weren't so anxious, she wouldn't have noticed that it was his left hand which held the key to the cell door.

"I didn't know you were ambidextrous." Leader used his right hand, right leg, right everything for all tasks. Hero would know. They used to play games between missions; Inverted Hangman was the game. They would write phrases in reverse order, start drawing from the feet, and use their less-dominant hand. Hero and Leader were both right-handed.

"I'm left-handed," he said simply as he turned the key. Hero stepped back as the door swung open, but Leader gave her no time to step through. Instead, he blocked the way out. "When I tell you to look, I expect you'll do as I say."

His hand shot out in the next moment and grasped Hero's right wrist before twisting it. Her shoulder twisted with and she yelped as Leader grabbed her once again, this time by the shoulder. He pulled her until he was able to capture both shoulders.

Hero slammed her eyes shut and held her breath as her back was spun, held against Leader's chest. Not Leader. This wasn't Leader, and she knew what sight would be before her if she opened her eyes. A confirmation she didn't want.

Leader was dead, and the body on the table wasn't Villain's.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" There it was- Villain's voice, but this time it came from behind her. The body in front of her was as silent as before, only this time, she knew it would be pale, blue, cold, and unmoving. Dead. "I thought you would have figured it out sooner. This was supposed to be fun! Entertaining!"

Leader is dead. He was more than the leader of the team. He was a friend, and he was kind and fun and...and he didn't deserve this. Hero opened her eyes. "No." Leader wasn't just dead. He was...A whine rose in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut again.

"He was entertaining, kept bargaining. Leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with this anymore. Please. She doesn't deserve this. Kind of like what you thought, huh? Come to think of it, he was a little predictable. Everyone is."

Villain's voice made her sick. She could feel the bile rise, taste it in the back of her throat. "Is that all you want? Someone to surprise you, say something you haven't heard before?" What could she say or do that would rid him? Was it even worth it? Leader was already gone, and if he were gone, so were the others.

"Probably. Haven't figured it out yet." She felt that smile of his creep against the back of her head, felt the slight pulling of her hair as his lips lifted. "The chase was exciting." Hero hated the way he spoke to her like an old friend having small talk one year after graduating from high school. "They hid you well. I just outsmarted them. It's crazy," he said, "I've had this type of...of access to the mind for years, and yet I still learn new things to do with it." The smile fell, and he whispered, "Can you feel that, Hero?"

The cold. The thin, sharp cold she was too familiar with. A blade. Hero didn't dare swallow, no matter how much saliva instinctively gathered on her tongue.

"What's even crazier," he ventured, "is that there's no knife at all. I just found it in that hazy corner of your mind which you try to keep hidden. You can't forget me, Hero, but I like to watch you try. I like to prove to you in every new way that you can't."

Why me?

"You were the first." He said it so sweetly, as if a body didn't lay in front of them, and a body they both knew to be alive at once. "You were confident. Told me to explore the ability. Told me it could do so much and I was wasting it by hiding. Aren't you just so happy I discovered I wasn't the monster I told myself I was?"

"There are other ways"- she gasped as the imaginary knife dug deeper- "to use your abilities. I didn't mean for you to-"

"Become this?"

She nodded.

"Predictable." He sighed, and the sting of the blade evaporated. "I'm going to let you go, and you're going to run as far away from me as you can, okay?"

"How can I run when you know my every move?" Still, she kept her eyes closed, unable to face Leader, and her arms were stiff as she was held back. She ached to run, but how could she?

"Challenge me, Hero. Prove to me that I'm not the monster I told you I was all those years ago, the monster you tried to convince yourself didn't exist. Prove it." He released her. "Run."

[dinoshimaaa]

some day, someone will like me like i like you. (pt 2)

this damned feeling. a curse laid upon him for all of eternity. unescapable, tormenting, torturing. first it was disappointment he felt in himself for succumbing to it. but that feeling of shame was soon washed away by the bliss that accompanied the fluttering feeling in his chest, its intensity so strong that it overpowered every other emotion in him, to the point that he only ever thinks and feels of you when you are near. what a shame that you do not feel the same. (feat. wanderer, tartaglia, lyney, gn! reader) (pt 1 here)

or: their heart will always be yours, but you…

(p.s. scara for @seveninchesfrominsanity 😎 and gingey for my best boro @souglias 😍 good luck to everyone on their child pulls!!!!!!!!)

(p.p.s. 8 year-old tartaglia refers to reader as a princess once, but it’s gender neutral otherwise + archon quest and lyney story quest spoilers)

-

the wanderer of sumeru is all but lovely. he is “hat guy”, the mysterious vahumana scholar who showed up out of nowhere just days ago, already gathering an infamous identity for being scornful and anti-social. he is lesser lord kusanali’s assistant, a thinly veiled title to mask the fact that he is a prisoner under her watch. many do not know him because he refuses to work in the spotlight, much like the acting grand sage, and those who do don’t always have the best impression of him.

and even lesser truly know of where he had come from: his mother who is raiden ei, his origins in tatarasuna, his affiliation with the fatui, his obsession with the electro gnosis, and what he once was to sumeru: a false god, a monster, the near-cause of the land of wisdom’s destruction.

but the lack of something will always be attracted to an abundance of something. you are nothing but lovely; the loveliest, if anyone had to say. you are dazzling and you are beautiful, turning heads towards you when you walk the street. you are kind and generous towards the stray kittens on treasure street, and cheerful and easygoing with the store owners when you visit them. people sing praises of you everywhere wanderer goes, and to say he hadn’t had his own experience with you was incorrect.

he remembers himself fighting wave after wave of fatui soldiers, and himself slowly getting more exhausted by the minute, when you came in like a saviour angel from above, plunging on the last of enemies with your bow. he recalls your hits being barely a fraction of how hard he can slice through an enemy, yet when you assisted in defeating those annoying fatui back then, you turned around and asked if he was okay with the brightest smile imaginable.

(to the traveler or nahida, he would’ve given a sarcastic reply. to any ordinary civilian, he would’ve ignored them and been on his way. that day, he recalls being utterly speechless, while the rising sun glows behind your head, giving you a halo, illuminating your smile further. you are the most radiant sight he has ever seen.)

he seeks you out secretly like a stray cat following the only kind soul who fed it milk. sometimes, he watches over you in the air, making sure you’re safe. other times he just observes your interactions with others, ever so relieved to see that you are loved by sumeru just as much as you have shown its people love. more often than not he catches himself drifting off to a dream filled with you, being flustered and ashamed of such pathetic behaviour. but sometimes he also gets too lost in his thoughts, melancholy overtaking his face when he thinks of the shining star that you are.

wanderer’s hands are decorated with filth and blood. they show, sometimes, after an exhausting fight with the fatui. in his peripheral vision, hallucinations of that kid, that blacksmith, and the doctor come and go. in the dead of night, when sumeru sleeps soundly and all that is to be heard are the rustling of leaves in the wind, wanderer looks at his shaking hands and closes them in a fist, wiping them harshly, trying to rub off the sins stained on them. he is a terrible person to others. he is a terrible person to himself.

he is not a lovely person. you are the embodiment of ‘lovely’ itself. he couldn’t possibly deserve to be with you, lest his filth and sinful hands taint your pure being. it would simply be unconscionable for someone like him; damaged past, wreck and ruin, an empty soulless shell, to be close to your brightness. no one, not even himself, would forgive him if he were to ruin who you are: sumeru’s loveliest, the one who loves sumeru, and the one whom sumeru loves.

it is yet another night of watching you enter your house safely, staring at your front door for a few moments more before heading back to his residence (nevermind that he was the one to clear all the enemies in your path ahead, while you weren’t seeing). if nahida ever pointed out the lingering fond look in his eyes, or if the traveler teased him about having a possible crush on someone, there would be no need to blush madly and scamper away like a schoolgirl, for he knows that there is zero chance of “us” with him and you.

-

there are many fairy tales that are popular in morepesok village, most of which ajax have heard in his childhood many times. his distant memories include his mother, still youthful and full of smiles, reading him one of such fairy tales to lull him to sleep. he remembers her warm caress, the pulling of a quilt over his tiny body, and the soft flicker of the candle beside his mother, waiting to be blown out for the night. he also remembers you, his childhood best friend, his sleepover buddy, his other half, tucked into bed right next to him. if he searched hard enough, he might find some candid pictures of you and him, cuddled next to each other in the bed, in his childhood home.

“so then, the prince and the princess ended up happily ever after again?” 8 year-old ajax yawned, a sleepy smile on his face.

“they did, again,” his mother’s warm chuckle resonates throughout the room, through his ears, into his heart. he stores her laugh like a cassette tape in his memory, wanting to play it over and over again in the future.

“i can’t imagine a fairy tale where the prince and princess don’t end up together,” you murmured beside ajax, as his mother tucked the two of you in.

“that should be us, then,” ajax turned to face you and grinned, “so we’ll never be apart. let’s pinky promise that you’ll always be the princess and i’ll always be the prince!”

“why do i have to be your princess?” you complained, only to be shushed by ajax’s mother before she blew the candle out, signalling the end of pillow talk and the start of dreamland.

(all three of you knew it was impossible for you and ajax to be completely silent after lights out. the giggles that progressively get louder and harder after his mother leaves the room are testament to that.

this time, however, ajax is deadly silent, and you reach out to cup his face to ask what’s wrong.)

“sorry,” ajax holds the hand you cupped his cheek with. “you don’t have to be the princess, it’s okay. but i want to be your prince. i want to rescue you from the bad guys and defeat bad guys in your name. i’ll even do a pinky promise to prove it.”

even though you don’t give him a verbal answer, you hold his hand as he sleeps. it brings enough reassurance to 8 year-old ajax.

such peaceful times are unreachable now, ever since he fell.

ajax has not seen you for ten years. you have seen tartaglia for none.

when he returns, his familiar fluff of ginger hair in front of your doorstep, you have to do a double take. gone is the scrawny boy you knew, that got sick after every ice fishing trip, and cried over the smallest of scratches; in front of you now stands a fearsome harbinger, the tsaritsa’s vanguard, a killing machine with no life in his eyes.

(that is not ajax, any longer. that is tartaglia. that is a fatui harbinger. where is your ajax?)

you cannot bring yourself to smile when he presents you with a bouquet of pink roses, despite how beautifully preserved and fragrant they are. your heart doesn’t soften even when he greets your parents politely, plays with your siblings, cooks your family dinner, and helps with the dishes. that is not ajax whom you’ve let into your home, in contrast to what the rest of your family believes. that is a stranger who has intruded your safe space.

it hurts childe more than it hurts you to be on the receiving end of haunted eyes and hostile stares. he knows that he is vastly different from the childhood best friend he was to you ten years ago, and no matter what he does now, you will always see him as tartaglia, childe, the vanguard. you love ajax, but ajax is who he once was. ajax had been forced to throw himself away to survive. it wasn’t his fault that ajax is dead, but he cannot blame you for defiantly wanting your ajax back.

so when he kneels in front of you, the snowy wind feeling a lot more colder than usual, he ignores the way your hands tense when he holds it. he wants to cry when you attempt to pull your hand away even though he kisses it as gently as gentle can be. if an outsider were to witness this, they’d call this a romantic scene, between a prince and his beloved. but both you and ajax know that the fairy tale you yearned for in your childhood is completely unreachable now.

(“give me back my ajax.”)

(“i’m sorry.”)

-

to say that the great magician lyney is fully authentic in his shows would be a bit of a stretch, for he is an actor on the stage before he is a magician, however hard or long he may rehearse the day before the show. every smile had been sculpted and practised for hours until it was deemed perfect enough to be seen by his audience. needless to say, ‘the great magician lyney’ is merely a farce, an identity of its own. he wishes not to confuse that lyney with ‘fatui lyney’ and just ‘lyney’.

you were just supposed to be another face in the audience, an unsuspecting fellow he was meant to charm, attract, and never remember the face of. but you show up to a show once, then twice, then thrice, and soon you become a familiar face that lyney notices in the audience every now and then.

(that’s what lyney says, at least. lynette knows that he secretly seeks out your face behind the curtains, and the moment he finds you, his smile widens a tad bit, and his voice is a little cheerier as he steps out on stage.

by the way, since when did he start using rainbow roses in his performances? ugh, darn charlotte.)

but it is not easy to always be just ‘lyney’ with you, for he is called to be the great magician by day, and fatui by night. rarely is there time given to him to be his true self in front of you, to let the curtains fall and the farce fade. you can’t remember the last time he was allowed to let his shoulders slump, his face be bare of makeup, and his head rest under your chin as you kissed his tears.

and it seems you won’t be seeing those ever again.

lyney feels his blood run cold the moment father mentions your name in a mission, so casually, almost as if she had let your name slip out of her lips innocently and accidentally, if he hadn’t known any better. but lyney has been her loyal servant, her ‘favourite child’ for years, and he knows that the mere mention of your name is but a warning to him.

“i seem to be craving coffee recently. no one brews it quite as well as [name] does, i fear,” is what the knave says.

that person seems to be distracting you. i will eliminate them soon, is what she means.

lyney cannot afford to let anymore people close to him get hurt. his parents, who passed when he was very young… lynette, whose life had been endangered too many times to count… cesar, who taught him everything and treated him with love even in just ten days…

you shouldn’t need to fall into the same trend as well. your life is peaceful, precious, and untainted unlike his. so, it should remain untouched. and lyney decides that this is when he does what he has to do.

on the day that you return home and see lumidouce bells on your doorstep instead of lyney, you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. your gut turns and folds nastily, and stars increasingly flood your vision while a silent plea rings in your head, but there is nothing logical that refutes the contents of the letter that lyney had left you. that is all you have left of him.

the rest is to be expected. feeling betrayed and abandoned, you lose all feelings for lyney, not wanting to be associated with him again. his gifted trinkets left in your house are all thrown out. you can’t look at a magic show advertisement for more than two seconds. it takes only a little while to get over this heartbreak, but once you are fully free of all emotional attachment to lyney, you never think about him and his rainbow roses ever again.

lyney’s plan goes exceptionally well. of course it does; it was as meticulously planned as all his performances are. he returns to the house later that night to report back to father, submitting his response to her threats weeks ago: [name] is nothing to me now. hence, you cannot hurt them.

(however successful his plan was, he cannot bring himself to smile in response to the knave’s satisfied one.)

later, on the same night, when he slips out of the house, he finds himself wandering towards the place where he usually picks his rainbow roses from. a gentle pluck, a flick of his hand; a lumidouce bell takes its place instead. he smiles at his own trick bitterly, before pressing his lips to the blue flower and intertwining another rainbow rose with it. 

a moment of hesitation comes, followed by a few minutes of uneasy pacing, until lyney makes the decision to squeeze the petals with his gloved hand. the crumpled pink and blue petals fall to the ground. lyney only gazes as they do so.

(he wishes he could do the same to his own heart, but that is barely a fraction of how he made you feel. he will look for more ways to punish himself, then.)

[trekkele]

Patriach!!!!!! I love that fic it's so good and it really made me think about Bruce's relationship with Leslie

*spoilers*

So many Fics have Bruce not liking going to Leslie and I never really thought about it because that's how it's always been

But when Dick starts to point out that Bruce would rather bleed in an alleyway then face one of her lectures and I just sat there

Because kids really want to be accepted!!! And hearing only criticisms all the way well into adulthood will 100% destroy your mental health, and when you think about how much effort and sacrifices Bruce probably had to make to train under the best of the best, only for Leslie (who had an impact on him growing up but also was his dad coworker/friend) to dismiss all of it and tell him that violence is not the answer*.... It must of hurt

(*which is bull, we've been spilling blood for every freedom for as long as we've been around, open a history book Leslie)

I said this once (I think in dms with @wanderintofics) but I think it's very funny how Alfred has been cast into this overbearing mother role and Leslie has been cast as the distant and disappointed father role. Because where Alfred will relentlessly criticize Bruce, and withold care or affection if he feels Bruce doesn't deserve it, he will also always, always come back to Bruces side. It's a whole thing! Meanwhile Leslie will never whithold care, she's a doctor, she's a good doctor, but she will absolutely side with those criticizing Bruce whenever possible.

I think the fact that Leslie has been criticizing him this way since he's a kid influences it the most. Because hearing that your choices are a disappointment and your dead parents would be ashamed of you is. Not great!! Ever!! And since Alfred is literally an employee of the estate, Leslie is technically the only person in his life who gets nothing from him and isn't interested in pleasing or pacifying him. Alfred's criticism would hurt, of course, but there's also a level of "he's meant to be raising me into the perfect heir". Leslie has no such responsibilities, and that means her criticism is entirely personal.

There are two ways to write Leslie, and one is Watsonian (she represents an in universe belief) and the other is Doylest (she represents Batman critics in our universe). And my problem with her as a Doylest criticism is you cannot apply our universe rules to a universe with superheroes. The entire argument against capes falls apart with the first alien invasion. More then that, it simply isn't an interesting critique of the genre, because it inevitably falls into doomerisms and nihilism and I am supremely uninterested of that view of the world.

The Watsonian critique is slightly more interesting, because it at least has Leslie (reasonably!) acknowledge that she lives in a universe where superheros do exist, she is just personally against them. And my issue there is that Leslie is a militant pacifist, which boils down to "she believes you should also die for her beliefs". And. No.

She also believes that all violence is equal, when it clearly isn't and has never been, and insisting that it be treated as if it is is disingenuous and unhelpful. Its how we get people in prison for killing their abusers even in the most clear cut of cases. I disagree with her philosophy in the real world, and not even in a way that means I can agree in the fictional world, if that makes sense.

Leslie is a great character and I think she's very interesting even when I disagree with everything she's saying. I wish she had more screentime as n antagonist. Steph, for one, should not trust her ever again.

[heroes-among-us-all]

Good to have u back!

Can i have a scenario with aizawa vs a villain that is always flirty with him, untill him decides its enough for him and they end up in a steamy situation and she gives up to him cause she reeeeeally likes him😳

If enough people like this scenario, I'll probably write a part 2

NSFW BELOW!

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. God, this was such a pain. It was always the same game of cat and mouse, and to make matters even worse, you insisted on being an insufferable tease every time.

"What's the matter, Eraserhead?" you giggled, deftly evading his cloths. "You look like you're having a hard time catching me. By the way, you're as hot as ever. What would it take to let me ride you?"

Precocious little brat.

You were absolutely incorrigible. Ever since you'd first crossed paths, he'd been victim to countless of your shameless attempts to flirt with him. He'd never expected that he would have to deal with a villain that seemed interested in getting into his pants at any given opportunity. He knew he had to take his job seriously, and you were actively breaking the law, but it was difficult to stay focused — not only because you kept goading him on, but also because you were far more attractive than he could stand.

Aizawa was ashamed to admit that he'd masturbated to the thought of you more times than he could count. It was a mixture of frustration at always failing to apprehend you, but most of it was just lust, plain and simple. It also didn't help that your villain costume was so goddamn revealing.

"This is the last time I let you get off easy," Aizawa muttered.

That was what he said, but the truth of the matter was that you were remarkably difficult to catch. Even when he canceled your Quirk, it didn't make a difference. You were naturally agile and skilled at hand-to-hand combat, as well as a master of weaponry. Aizawa wondered if he would ever be able to arrest you.

As far as villains went, you hadn't committed any particularly heinous crimes, but the law was still the law. You also had a habit of almost only appearing in front of him. Aizawa was a grown man, so it was obvious to see that you were attracted to him — either romantically or purely sexually. Plus, the comments you made were already a dead giveaway.

You evaded his attacks once more, then hoisted yourself up on a nearby rooftop and grinned down at him from above.

"I have a proposition for you," you grinned. "Fuck me just this once, and I'll let you arrest me. I'm pretty confident I'll be able to break out of prison anyways, but this way you get to take credit for a job well done, right?"

Aizawa's brow twitched. "Don't patronize me. I don't need any freebies, and I'm not stupid enough to believe that a villain would hold up their end up the bargain."

"I can prove it," you insisted, and to Aizawa's immense surprise, you jumped down from the roof and landed mere inches in front of him. His hero instincts took over, and he bound you in his cloths without so much as blinking. You didn't bother to struggle, though. In fact, if the flush on your cheeks was anything to go off, he might've thought you actually enjoyed being tied up. "Oh no," you mused. "I've been caught. Are you going to punish me now?"

You really were a piece of work, and as much as Aizawa wanted to pretend like he was above all this, he could already feel his cock throbbing.

He decided to give in to your provocations, just this once.

"Maybe I am," he gritted out, then shoved you against the nearest wall, while your limbs were still bound. He pushed down you down by shoulders until you collapsed onto your knees in front of him. He could see your grin getting wide with excitement as he used his free hand to pull down his pants and reveal his boner.

"Oh my god," you moaned, pressing your thighs together in anticipation. "Your dick looks amazing. I've been wanting to see it for so long."

Aizawa had to admit that the prospect of doing something so taboo — a hero fucking a villain — was really, really turning him on.

"Since you're such a needy little slut, I'll be nice this time and give you what you want." He grabbed fistfuls of your hair and pulled you in until the tip of his cock was pressed against your cheek. "Now, suck it."

Despite being a villain, you were awfully obedient when it came to such matters. You didn't need to be told twice before you were dragging your tongue all the way up the length of his shaft.

Aizawa let out a quiet hiss. Fuck. Even just your tongue already felt incredible. As much as he wanted to maintain the illusion that he was completely composed right now, his heart was beating ridiculously fast.

"So good," you breathed, licking and sucking with an enthusiasm he hadn't known was possible. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, then puckered your lips, sucking in awfully hard.

Aizawa could feel his self-control dissolving the longer he stared at your sinful expression. He just couldn't get enough of how you looked to be completely transfixed on his cock, strings of saliva spilling out over your lips.

He inhaled, then gripped your head tighter.

"I believe I told you to suck. What are you taking your time and messing around for? Do it properly."

He shoved his entire cock into your mouth, making sure that it bottomed out against the back of your throat. You gagged from the sudden intrusion, a few tears reflexively prickling at your eyes, but your arms were tied up, so you couldn't push him away.

He doubted you would've actually wanted to, though.

Aizawa barely even bothered to stifle his groans as he fucked your face relentlessly. The sound of you choking and struggling to breathe while you were forced to deepthroat him was honestly like music to his ears. He wanted to burn this image into his mind; remember every little detail so that he could jerk off to it later on.

"Fuck," he growled, thrusting sloppily, "your mouth feels so good. I guess a slutty villain like you has probably been around quite a bit. Well, how is it? How does it feel to have a hero violate you?"

Tears were streaming down your face, and your cheeks were a flushed mess of crimson hues. You gagged in between your moans, but didn't make the slightest attempt to fight back. Aizawa loved seeing you like this. After being unable to apprehend you more times than he could even count, the sight of you being completely at his mercy was almost too good to be true.

Aizawa bit back a gasp. "Shit... I'm already about to cum. Drink it all up. If you waste even a single drop, I'm not going to forgive you."

Between how roughly he was thrusting into your mouth, it was incredible that you managed to nod hazily. Aizawa couldn't help but crack a crooked grin at your fucked-out and nearly delirious expression. This was easily the most turned on he'd ever been.

He came a few moments later, busting his entire load into your mouth. Ever the obedient girl, you swallowed every last spurt of his thick cum. Even though you were probably desperate for air by now, you stayed perfectly still and let it all slide down the back of your throat.

Aizawa eventually pulled back, delighted to see you smiling through your tears, chest heaving under the heavy weight of your arousal.

"You taste so good," you panted, strings of cum glued to your lips and chin. "That was amazing. I can't believe I just sucked your cock. I love you so much..."

Aizawa felt himself blush ten times more fiercely than before. Fooling around was one thing, but to hear you say that loved him was a different thing entirely. It seemed like your feelings for him were a lot more serious than he'd first though.

After a brief pause, Aizawa eventually released you from his cloths, and just as promised, you made no attempt to run away.

"I guess I'll go to jail now," you sighed. "Oh, well. It was worth it. I wonder how long it'll take me to get back out."

I should turn her into the police. She's still a villain.

Aizawa was a hero, and he had a duty towards the public. But at the same time... you weren't really hurting anyone. You'd pulled off a few robberies to make your name known, and shortly after, you'd started appearing around him, but not much else.

He couldn't believe he was having such conflicting thoughts. There was only one right call, and he was struggling to make it.

Aizawa adjusted his pants in place and turned away from you. "Leave," he grimaced. "Before I change my mind. Like I said before, I don't want any freebies. I can apprehend you on my own terms, without needing to be given a handicap."

You stood up with a gasp. "Y-You're letting me go? So, then... will we get to do this again?"

Aizawa was unwilling to show you his expression, so he kept on facing away from you. It was better this way, otherwise you would've been able to see the grin creeping onto his lips.

The next time you ended up meeting, Aizawa was going to give you the pounding of your life.

[pappikapon]

i know i don’t talk much on here and i am sorry for that but im too ashamed to break the news to real life friends so of course i am turning to my beloved tumblr brothers and sisters and fisters 🌹 i was pulled out of college due to poor attendance caused by a myriad of different things at home, older brother being put in prison, younger brother DV, literally anything under the sun name it i’ve probably gone through it this year

im not sure what to do and honestly im quite scared. ive had a sit down and taken a breather, but the thing is the plan was

gcses -> 2 years college -> uni -> success

but instead its been

only my core gcse’s because i moved schools due to mom wanting to move closer to family bc of her cancer so i wasn’t able to use my art portfolio bc different curriculum -> 1 year lv2 college course to make up for art gcse -> 2 year lv3 college course for game art -> did really well in year 1 but just got kicked off Like 30 minutes ago for year 2. -> no uni -> NEET until i pass away probably man

So like 😭😭. i feel like a bit of a failure right now. i know it’s more that the environment and situation have failed *me* but i was so close to university i can’t help but feel like it’s my own shortcomings that caused all this and honestly! it feels shit!! it feels like shitty balls!!!! i was meant to be the one child expected to go places and it’s all gone awfully. i FLOPPED!

What does one even do in this situation? it feels embarrassing enough even admitting it. like ohhhh im a neet NEETCORE! NEETCORE! SHUBTHE VUCK UP i need a job or something im 18 why is it so hard to get employed in this wretched countr y. ‘great�� britain Okay man Okay buddy. vgen commissions are wonky and inconsistent and i cannot possibly live off that assuming mom wants me out asap which is what she’s been passively and also not so passively implying as of recent. Sorry i remembered there’s very simple markdown in this app and im having fun

for now my plan is to breathe a little more, do some chores, maybe draw a picture. Maybe i will sit in the garden and frolick in the gross british damp grass. I will be fine this isn’t really a vent except it kind of is. I’m just putting my thoughts out. But like it does kind of feel like the end of the world i cannot lie to you