#for longer than ended up being

[deepfriedpaddymayne]

GOD isn't it insane how paddy has this whole. unlovable renegade complex, which is subtle but very much There, and then he has not one but TWO whole characters whose main role in the story is just. being utterly smitten with him.

[notsolonedesert]

One more doodle dump for the mental health, ft. baby Telemachus :D

[leafyeyes417]

Summoning fix it

Danny accepted being Ghost King when he was 20. Why 20? Because at that point his human half was looking more fae than human. At least he got that growth spurt and reached 6 foot 5. But the pointed ears, catlike eyes that glowed, fangs, and glowing freckles along with his height made him stand out.

Sam and Tucker, the two most liminal humans up till that point, were only better in that their eyes only glowed when emotional and that they didn’t have freckles. The trio had decided that they were more infinite realm denizens than living and they moved in to Danny’s new castle.

Accepting the throne was chaos. Especially with the observants constantly trying to butt in after he cut their power. They tried many things to keep him busy, including trying to bury him in centuries of old paperwork. Unfortunately for them Danny was not going to put up with that.

He sent out a message looking for any ghosts whose obsession was being a secretary. And there were more than he expected. After screening he chose a few and let the rejected ones know that he would set something up to help them later, but first he needed to straighten things out.

During all this Danny ended up summoned. He was annoyed that any regular old joe could just summon him. He was the Ghost King! He had more important things to do (even if it was just playing video games) than answer every summon request at other people’s whims. There were a multitude of dimensions out there, who knew how often he could be summoned?!

The trio quickly got to work and created a summon circle that first, allowed him to send someone in his stead, and second, prevented forced summoning if he declined answering.

Calling on more ghosts, he found one that grants wishes, and unlike Desiree, has no horrible consequences as long as a price of equal payment is made. He then wished all summoning circles to summon the ghost king from the point in time of his ascension be switched with his new one.

After that, he assigned one of the secretaries to be the one to answer the summons. He made a list of things to outright decline, and if they were unsure they were to call him and ask.

That’s how the Justice League ended up finding out that there was a new Ghost King. Constantine was particularly annoyed when he realized the switch with the summoning instructions. Luckily they weren’t on such a time crunch that they didn’t have the time to get the new materials needed.

Upon completion of the summoning, a female humanoid in a professional suit floated, and spoke “I am Penny, secretary of Ghost King Phantom. What is the subject of your summons?”

[therealdistortion]

I find it funny the way Jon blames himself for the apocalypse. Cause essentially what happened is that Jonah put a nuke in his lunch and he blames himself for it.

Like, imagine you got a sandwich for lunch. You’ve been looking forward to eating this sandwich for so long, you haven’t had one in weeks. Your friend got it for you from a restaurant and you are so so excited.

It looks amazing, it smells amazing, you are so excited. Then, you go to take a bite and there’s a fucking nuke in it. It explodes and kills everyone around you, except for you. Then you blame yourself.

You didn’t put that nuke in it. You didn’t know there was one there. You were just trying to eat lunch.

It was the guy from that restaurant, he put a nuke in your sandwich! And it wasn’t even like he put it in a random sandwich and you just happened to get it. No, he put it specifically in your sandwich so when you try to eat your lunch it will explode.

And you know that he put the nuke in your sandwich. Cause he wrote you a note explaining to you exactly why and how he did it. He told you it was so it would explode and kill everyone, and he told you that he put it specifically in your sandwich. And he hid the note so you would only see it after you started eating, at which point it was already too late.

And you still blame yourself. Even though you had no idea. How does that make sense?

Jon, it is not your fault there was a nuke in your sandwich

[aroaceleovaldez]

the dynamic of demigods thinking which other demigod is the most powerful is always amusing to me because. like, we know the big 3 kids are all the most powerful. That's just a fact of their universe. And then we know nearly every character views Percy as the strongest demigod, and most people are very rightfully intimidated by him.

and you look at the powers of the Big 3 kids and there's Percy, but then you realize Nico is just kind of objectively more powerful than him but simply chooses to hang out in Percy's shadow like he's Percy's scary dog privileges. Like, the two of them are pretty equally capable of causing multiple different apocalypses. Nico just also has like four different instakill powers and it's not like he doesn't use them. He very much uses them! Not infrequently, even! And they don't seem to take a significant amount of energy from him! And other demigods are pretty intimidated by both of them! But Nico makes a conscious point to keep his cards close to his chest and not let on exactly how dangerous and scary he can be if he wants to. People are already scared enough of him without knowing anything about him and he doesn't like that. Percy doesn't think about that nearly as much, and so usually just goes in guns blazing and that's part of why he's considered a wildcard. And then Nico himself puts Percy on a pedestal, so those who do know more about Nico's abilities then presume Nico knows something they don't about Percy that implies Percy is even stronger than him.

And even on a meta level Nico's narrative role requires him to be functionally more powerful than Percy, because he very often serves the purpose of getting Percy out of situations he can't handle on his own. That's just part of his function as a character! But also narratively he can't overshadow Percy so he just takes a backseat of his own accord and that's very amusing to me.

[shesnake]

hello here's my little Armand essay. spoilers for season 2 and content warnings for discussions of racism, csa, intimate partner violence.

[cutter-kirby]

getting into both of these games at the same time is pretty funny

[zevrra]

caught in the rain—

synopsis: you and sebastian seek shelter inside an abandoned home where every feeling is laid to bare.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, fem!reader, hogwarts legacy, sebastian sallow(18+), about 3k words

“As if this day couldn’t get any worse,” You mutter. Mostly to yourself but you wouldn’t at all be surprised if Sebastian had heard too. You both had been sent out together to gather some information about some dark magic being practiced on the Poidsear Coast.

Everything had been going smoothly, from taking witness statements to tracking down the dark wizard’s hideout to the coast, even the two of you getting along.

That is until an unexpected heavy downpour comes. Cold rain falls heavy like a thick blanket on the two of you, forcing you to take shelter. Every piece of clothing you wore was soaked—down to your very bones. Thankfully, Sebastian and yourself had managed to find an abandoned home. Boarded up with a more than obvious appearance of not having been taken care of in a very long time.

While you say things could not be worse you really didn’t mean it. Being rained on and forced to wear your freezing clothes wasn’t truly the worst thing in the world. Neither was being stuck in that house with your academic rival. And crush.

“Well. Try not to make it sound so horrible now,” Sebastian sarcastically says. Teasing you as he shrugs off his heavy coat in some hope to warm himself. Rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt as he does anything but look at you. “We could be in some troll’s den. That would be worse.” He chuckles as he checks out the house, hoping to find anything to maybe start a fire with. Swatting away at cobwebs with an annoyed look.

You sigh. Too cold to even defend yourself at the moment. Moving to stand next to a window. Watching as lightning flashes across the sky and the harsh sound of thunder that follows.

“We’ll be here all night if this storm doesn’t stop soon.” You say, irritated. Not that sleeping in some random home, far from the safety of Hogwarts, with no other change of clothes, no warmth, and no bed, didn’t sound fantastic and all but it would also reset all of your progress from today. Tracking down the dark wizard hiding out on this coast had been an assignment given to the two of you and not completing it would leave you both looking rather poorly in your professor's eyes.

“You worry too much,” Sebastian says, cutting into your thoughts, making you look away from the window and towards where his voice had carried from.

You watch as he moves towards the other end of the dark home, Lumos, lighting the tip of his wand as he examines the place. Stairs lead to a second story or perhaps an attic in the farthest corner from the door. Off next to the stairs is a large stone fireplace just waiting to be lit.

“See, always so dramatic.”

You roll your eyes at Sebastian as you follow him into the home. Shoulders tense as you wait for anything to jump out at you. No damn spider was sneaking up on you, not today. In a smaller room straight across from the stairs sits untouched furniture from who knows how long ago. With chairs perfect for disassembling and using as firewood.

Well, at least you’d be semi-warm and somewhat dry for the rest of the time being.

After some rearranging and the use of Incendio, the two of you make quick work of starting a fire and laying out your cloaks before the hearth to dry. Now you are left in just your blouse and skirt, shoes and socks forgotten until they also get the chance to dry as the storm continues to rage outside.

Sebastian stood beside the fireplace, hands held out to try and warm his fingers up. The dull sound of the rain is really the only noise the two of you make. You were friends, classmates, but above all rivals. You could have a civil conversation but seeing as the two of you were there on an assignment, things were tense as both of you wanted to outdo the other.

You shiver, curling up on yourself by pulling your knees to your chest. The fire was working well but the wet clothes still sticking to your body kept you from truly getting to warm up.

“I’m going to go look for a blanket.” Sebastian says, suddenly breaking the silence between the two of you.

You nod in response as he leaves to rummage around the forgotten home. His search for a blanket takes him up the stairs and you watch him go. An eerie feeling creeps up your spine as soon as you‘re left alone. The strange feeling of being watched itches just behind your senses of being cold. It makes you look over your shoulder a few times. That is until Sebastian finally returns.

A thick quilt is draped across your shoulders that startles you ever so slightly. In all honesty, you had thought Sebastian went to retrieve the blanket for himself. Now with the heavy cloth wrapping around your own body you realize that he had been watching you beforehand. He had retrieved the blanket solely for you. The thought makes you flush.

He moves to sit beside you now. Hands returning to hover out in front of the flickering flames. “There’s also a bed upstairs. If you’re tired.” Sebastian once again cuts through the silence to speak.

You laugh at his words. Shaking your head as you tighten the blanket around you. “Tempting but no thank you.” You reply, turning your gaze to the fireplace.

“Why not?” Sebastian asks. From his tone he seems genuinely confused.

His confusion makes you chuckle again. As if he really didn’t know. “Oh alright, Sebastian. Let me just go take a small nap while you run off, find and finish our assignment, and then take all of the credit.” You tease. A smile stretches across your lips as if you’ve caught him in the act.

You imagine he’ll make some funny quip about how you were right and that he was just thinking of a way to get ahead in your studies but instead he says nothing.

The silence has you lifting your head to glance over at the other. His brow is furrowed and there’s a deep frown on his face. Clearly you’ve said something wrong.

“Do you truly think I’m so shallow?” Seb whispers. His voice drips with displeasure.

The disdain in his tone was not something you were used to. Sure, Sebastian had had his moments for being a little irritated with you. From cave crawling and accidentally setting off a trap to the two of you butting-heads for top grades but never had he sounded so…upset and hurt before.

Now it was your turn to truly be confused. You did not think of him as shallow or selfish but you also wouldn’t put it past your rival to take the upper hand on you.

“I don’t find you shallow.” You awkwardly reply. Suddenly you’re thankful for the sound of rain and thunder. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” You add quickly afterwards.

“We may be rivals academically but I’m not your enemy. I’m not evil. I still care for you.” Sebastian says with a sigh. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face. Searching for something you’re not sure of at the moment.

“I apologize,” You mutter. Now would be the perfect time to suddenly disappear. “I simply just thought because of school you would take the opportunity…” You ramble. Wondering why you were even telling Sebastian any of this.

This time, it’s his turn to laugh. It’s a very dry and curt laugh. No humor lingers behind it like it normally would. “I would never sabotage you.”

“No?” You reply short and simple. Wondering why now he would have a soft spot for you. Seeing as he had never before when it involved your academic standpoint.

“What do I have to gain besides you hating me?” Sebastian asks, again genuinely curious. His now warmed hands rub against his cold shoulders and biceps. Hoping to chase away the chill. “I would never want you to hate me.” He adds in a hushed voice.

Listening to Sebastian be so open was definitely something entirely new to you. He was the type to be open about pretty much everything except his feelings. His true, genuine, feelings. And now that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, you couldn’t help but want him to keep talking. “Not that I would ever hate you but would that really be the end of the world?”

Sebastian turns to look at you then. His brown eyes meet your own as the light from the fireplace softly caresses his features. Turns his freckled face into something far more gentle than you’re used to. Yet you weren’t entirely sure if that was because of the dim lighting or the fact that he was looking upon you with such tenderness that it made him look more attractive suddenly.

“To me, yes, it would be.” He admits openly. As if this is something Sebastian said on a daily basis. As if he constantly told you how important you truly were to him.

Upon realizing his confession, Sebastian’s eyes widened. He coughs in an attempt to move the conversation along, or even just to simply cover up the fact that he just told you how horrible the world would be without you. His face flushes a dark red that even in the dim light you can see.

“Only because, well, you know! I wouldn’t have anyone else to compete with!” He stammers, trying to save face.

It’s a little too late for that now though. You knew he meant something a little more meaningful.

You smile as he avoids your line of sight. “Sebastian…” You whisper. His name rolling off your tongue has him freezing in place. Unsure if he should flee and never speak about this ever again or just stay still long enough he can pretend he’s dead. “Be honest.”

Sebastian continues to ignore your gaze for the most part. Fiddling with some interesting looking piece of dust on the rundown wooden floor.

“I don’t know what you mean. I am honest! All the time!” Embarrassingly he answers. “You’re just too dense to see it!” The insult is a hollow insult at best. Just another tactic to avoid the situation he’s started.

You hum in response. Scooting closer to the other to try and get a good look at his blushing face. “How so?”

“N-nothing! No, I don’t know!” Sebastian deflects. Attempting to turn and hide his face from your gaze.

You had never seen him so defensive before. Wanting to close off from you entirely but that was something you would not allow. He started this and he needed to finish it or else you might go mad.

“What do you mean?” You ask. Not that you couldn’t read his body language at the moment but you still wanted him to tell you. To be loud and clear with his feelings so that you too could be honest about your own.

“Ugh!“ He groans in frustration. His hands come up to hide his face from your gaze. Covering over mainly his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at you looking at him. “I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met! You’ve never noticed it before so why are you suddenly so keen!?”

The inside of your stomach does a flip. The first day you two met was almost three years ago. Had you really never noticed any of his advances? You think back on all the times when he’d let you copy his notes when you were busy with Mr. Fig for the day. Of all the times he called you annoying but would do anything you asked of him. The countless hours you two would spend in the undercroft, practicing your spells and studying together.

All this time…and he only ever stayed by your side.

You reach to grab gently ahold of his wrists. Somewhat prying his hands away from his face so you could get another good look at him. He’s a mess. Red as a tomato. Blushing like he had been sick with a fever. Hair tousled and curled far more than usual from previously having been rained on.

Sebastian Sallow, your friend and rival, sat before you entirely and wholeheartedly shy. Something you would never have imagined to happen before this day.

He’s still under your touch. Still attempts at avoiding your eyes even now. Doesn’t stop you from reading over his features. From every freckle highlighted by his blush to the pretty length of his eyelashes. He was so handsome. Far more than you had ever realized before.

“Sebastian,” You whisper in a soft tone. As his name is called, his head shifts ever so slightly as he finally meets your gaze once more. A rush of emotion swirls up inside of you. Your chest tightens with sudden adoration for the man sitting before you.

He doesn’t say anything in response though. Just slowly takes control over his own hands, placing one against your cheek. His fingers run gently across your skin. Pushing back damp hair as he finally wants to look at your face.

“You’re an idiot. A fool,” Sebastian mumbles after a few painstakingly long heartbeats. “How did you not know?” He asks as his thumb caresses the high of your cheekbone. A lighthearted tone to his voice. As if it were obvious.

His words make you laugh ever so slightly. Of course you hadn’t realized it. Too blinded by your competitive drive to know that all along he was only competing in hopes to make you like him. Which was silly in itself. Seeing as you had always liked him too.

“Forgive me for not seeing it before,” You reply with a smile. Reaching to touch the back of his hand lovingly. “I would like to know everything now.” You add as you turn your head to kiss the inside of his palm.

His breath hitches as he watches you kiss his hand. A slight tremble in his shoulders tells you he’s holding back on moving things further. Even as his thumb brushes against your lips, while his brown eyes stare at every curve his thumb traces. Wanting to commit all of you to every bit of his memory.

“You…you’re over dramatic, always worrying about me. Sometimes you’re too loud. You manage to best me at everything.” Sebastian rambles on with a soft laugh. “And I love every bit of it. Your drive, your excitement, the way you laugh. Everything about you…”

Sebastian softens as he continues to stare at you. His eyes flick up from your lips to your eyes before glancing back down at the lips he tenderly touches. “And I’ve wanted to kiss you for far too long…”

The words he speaks makes your heart beat far too fast. With how hard your heart beats and how tight your chest is, you could almost swear your heart might have burst out from beneath your ribcage right then and there.

Your own face softens. Pressing your lips gently into the pad of his thumb. “What are you waiting for?” You ask with a smile. And immediately Sebastian mirrors your smile. Now, nothing was going to hold him back.

For a moment, as he leans forward to capture your lips, you thank the sudden rainstorm. For without it, you would never have ended up here, held so lovingly in Sebastian’s arms.

[sunsburns]

need art taking my virginity

oh my gosh whaaaat who said that

oh my gosh now it's writing itself oh noooo stop thisss

but all jokes aside, i know this would take place at stanford. you were strictly friends at the time, in the same bio med class and you were in his dorm room, finishing up the last details on your final project that was due at midnight. the second you turned it in, art practically jumped for joy while you tossed yourself onto his bed, kicking your laptop to the side.

he would offer some celebratory drinks which consisted of a six-pack from the mini fridge before he sat beside you. the both of you clink your glasses together and drink, enjoying the rest of your night together.

after three drinks on an empty stomach, the two of you were moving slower, giggles escaped your lips while art told you a story from when he was in the academy.

holding your half-empty bottle to your chest, you couldn't stop yourself from staring at his lips, the way they turned and moved or how he pouted and frowned. you watched the way they curved when he said your name.

when he reached for your shoulder, you finally looked at him in the way. there was a redness to his cheeks all of a sudden, and a shy smile tugged at his mouth when he looked at you. "i thought i lost you there for a second. am i that boring?"

"what? no. of course not." you blinked at him, a little embarrassed, "sorry, i just... i got distracted."

it was ridiculous how fast the two of you were on each other after that. he took the bottle from your hands and placed it aside, reaching over you as he did so. before he could lean back, you had cupped the back of his neck and kissed him. a quick, tight-lipped kiss to test the waters.

when you pulled away, he stared at you, looked at every detail on your face before he wrapped an arm around you and kissed you harder. a deep kiss that had you shutting your eyes tightly, holding him with both of your hands while he pulled you onto his lap.

when his tongue ran over your lower lip, you grew a little shy but parted them for him anyways. he caressed your cheek as his teeth crashed against yours, his tongue reaching for yours. your lips moved in tandem, slitting against each other with ease.

your tongues flicked playfully against each other. you giggled at the odd sensation, which quickly turned into a moan as he lightly sucked it into his mouth. 

"art..." your moan left him moaning as he deepened the sloppy kiss further.

"i like you," he muttered into your mouth, "like, i really like you." he started to kiss your cheek, then your jaw, mouthed at your neck. "i think you're smart, and really pretty."

"i really... i really like you too," you were blushing, your fingers curled into his hair, pulling slightly when he sucked a bruise into your neck.

art's red tennis polo is the first thing that came off after he gently led your hands to the hem of it. you ran your hands over his chest and that had him sighing against your lips. your shirt is discarded next, and the moment that was gone, art was reaching to cup your breasts, digging under your bra, his warm hands against your skin.

you tried to unbuckle his belt, moaning into his mouth. when he started to tug at your nipples after tossing your bra aside your mind stuttered, "art," you tried to say. "art-"

"yeah?" his big hands were running across your skin, leaving a hot trail behind them. he stopped when they were on your ass, just holding you there while your curled a strand of his hair in your finger.

you could feel his hard dick poking at the inside of your thigh, it made you frown as he looked up at you. his eyes were big and blown wide, darker than you remembered them, lust swirling behind them while he looked at you like you were the embodiment of the sun. you ran your thumb across his lower lip.

"i've never done this before," you whispered.

something softened within him, and he brought one hand up to cup your cheek and bring you closer. when your forehead rested against his, art kissed your cheek sweetly, "that's okay. we can stop if you want-"

"no," you quickly told him. "i want this. with you. i just... i just don't know. i want you to talk me through it."

he nodded, and kissed you again, slow and sweet before he said, "okay, yeah. just relax."

you could have sworn you had turned into nothing but mush in his hands by the time the both of you had stripped yourselves of your clothes. art led you to lay back on the bed, and he made sure to kiss every part of your skin, leaving marks here and there as he learned what made you moan and whimper or what made you arch your back towards him or tug at his hair.

he stayed hovering over you, watching you closely as you mewled under his touch, his fingers sliding in and out of you at a slow, tantalizing pace. his name came out breathless from your mouth, and yours was a restrained grunt at the back of his throat when you tried to palm at his cock.

you could've felt sparks at the ends of your fingers, an impatient turmoil in your stomach. "c'mon art. fuck me already."

he nearly laughed, watching your arch against him when he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you waiting. art shifted one hand holding his weight up beside your head while the other rolled a condom over his dick.

he pressed his tip against your entrance, running circles against your clit with his thumb. when he started to push against the tight ring of your slick cunt, you were letting out a startled whimper.

"fuck, you're so tight." he muttered, dropping his weight against you.

you groaned, "fuck, art. get your fatass off me." you tried to sound annoyed, but your pants and breathly moans told him otherwise.

"shut up, i know you like it." art let out a strangled snort, slowly pushing the rest of himself in. his pace was steady, drawing out every little sound from your wrecked body, unable to hold back any of his own.

the both of you come soon after.

[solavellan--hell]

Another reason that I find appeal in the dynamic of Solavellan:

Ever since Solas took a body, he has never really had the chance to be a person.

He has been a soldier, a traitor, a leader, a symbol, a liberator, a scary story you tell to little elven children so that they don’t misbehave, the list goes on. He has always been the means to some sort of end, both for other people and for his own self (evident by the way he constantly disregards his own wants and needs). Once the mask of Fen’Harel is on, he becomes an idea. This is something he enforces himself, because this is all he has known to be, and it is the only way he knows to achieve his duty.

And then Inquisition comes around. This time, to achieve his duty, he is forced to pretend the mask does not exist. He is just some random lowly apostate who knows a lot about the Fade. And after some time, as an unintended consequence of having to conceal the persona of the Dread Wolf, he gets to see what it would be like to live without it. He has found companionship amongst spirits before, but that aligns with his nature as a spirit, not his nature as a person. As part of the Inquisition, he gets his first taste of not having to be something greater than himself, but simply exist in his body.

Of course, it’s not enough. The mask is still there and so is his responsibility to fix his mistake. He does not allow himself to forget fully. When he is with Lavellan, however, his resolve falters dangerously, which is why he ultimately has to leave her behind. But for that limited time, she is the one person that has been the closest to what he would have been as a person, simply existing in the context of himself.

Lavellan relies on him, but doesn’t push him or use him. She lets him help as much as he is willing. She gives him agency over his position. She is the first person that he lets close to him who does so. Even in their love life, she makes her feelings known, but lets him make the final decision. She kisses him, and immediately pulls away so that he can retract if he wishes. She asks him not to go by gently holding his arm. She tells him she is willing to give their relationship a try, and lets him take his time. She is firm with her love for him, but never holds him down.

The only exception to this, in my opinion, is Felassan. Though Felassan views Solas as friend first and leader second, he ultimately tells Solas that he has to keep up the mask of the Dread Wolf if he intends to be victorious, as we read in this codex entry.

This is paralleled by Lavellan telling Rook that the world may know him as the Dread Wolf, but she knows him as her heart. An identity that he created as a manifestation of his love for her. She ends up being the only person (besides from Varric) that separates Fen’Harel, the idea, from Solas, the person. A flawed person, but a person nonetheless.

And this is what I imagine for them post-ending. He has a task, yes, but one he chose with his newfound sense of agency. And with Lavellan beside him, he can finally freely exist as simply a person, love and be loved as simply a person. Not an idea.

[hinamie]

binding vow

[mistyffa]

Something I've been thinking about a lot recently is working with another feeder to blow up a feedee...

Especially if they're starting at the same size as us. Just having a cute NEET girl move in with us, her body all tight and toned. It starts small with my partner and I cooking her bigger meals than she's used to, always with a healthy slab of butter. There's always snacks lying around the house, specially curated to her tastes so she forgets she's even overeating. After a few months she's developed a nice, soft layer of pudge over her entire body, her hips are a little wider, a bit of a double chin is coming in, her belly pushes against her leggings and dresses, and she's started to slow down a little.

Then the weight starts to pile on faster. Depending on each of our moods, one of us feeds her more intently while the other comforts her and takes care of the house. Sometimes for fun we'll whisper about her progress just loud enough for her to hear us from the next room. We talk about how much thicker and softer her thighs are, how her tits have gotten fuller, how cute she looks when she's snacking on the couch. Then we act surprised when we walk into the den and see her double-fisting a soda and an ice cream sandwich with a sly grin on her face. By this point she's solidly chubby; her thighs and belly jiggle when she walks, and she hasn't quite realized the wardrobe she started out with is much too small for her now. She totally fills her athletic shorts, which nowadays she only uses to lounge around the house, and she always needs one of us to help clasp her bra.

Fast forward another year or so, and she's completely puffed up. She'd put on at least a hundred pounds and gone through two wardrobes. The first time she popped the buttons off a pair of pants, we went out for dinner to celebrate, but now it's become a regular occurrence. Her days all blend together for the most part. My partner and I would set up our work schedules so one of us will always be home with her, preparing her meals and feeding her so she doesn't have to waste any calories standing by the stove or moving the food from her plate to her mouth. Essentially every waking moment for her is spent completely stuffed. On weekends, when we're all home together, we like to have a little extra fun. My partner and I would cook her at least five full meals a day, each a couple thousand calories, with lots of snacks and sweets in between. When she's not eating she's splayed out on the couch, puffing on her wax pen. One of us cuddles her, rubbing her belly and squeezing her tits, whispering teasing words into her ear. The other kneels on the floor between her legs, holding her gut out of the way while she eats her out. Then the timer goes off, and it's back to pigging out.

At night, we'd stand her up in front of a mirror and point out every new stretch mark and curve. We'd talk to each other about how much we loved her huge hips and her hanging gut, how cute her plush arms are, how fun it is to cup her double chin when we kiss her. We never address her directly so she can squirm in her overwhelming horniness. Sometimes we like to pull out her old clothes and help her try them on. Lately it's taken both of us just to pull her old tshirts down over her belly and breasts, at least twice as wide as they used to be.

She loves it though. She loves the attention, the humiliation, the constant care, the approval she gets when she outgrows another outfit. She loves nothing more than lounging around all day, stuffing herself to her heart's content, smoking pot, and watching TV.

And we love it too, of course. Watching her grow and settle into her new body, then do it all again. Doing everything for her. Talking about our plans for her. Our next goal is to make her big enough that she needs help standing, which doesn't seem too far off, seeing as she's already huffing and puffing every time she needs to get up on her own. And we can't wait.

[preydefiler]

thinking about being an abusive older sister... I keep my bedroom door closed and locked, not even our parents have a key. sometimes I bring someone home, and you can hear noises coming from under the door. you're curious, and you have to take a peek.

the first time you do, it's embarrassing. you watch me have sex with one of the neighborhood girls. it's rough, and there are times she's gagged and crying and you hear these incredibly wet noises, but this angle... you can't quite see. you never quite catch sight of my cock, which is... disappointing for some reason. you feel funny, and you think the feeling is wrong, but... you want more. so you seek more opportunities.

you find a spot in a tree in our backyard, where if you climb just high enough, you can wiggle into a space in the branches that gives you a view into my room. this time I'm in there alone, and I'm lounging on my bed. you watch me for a few minutes, mostly just me flipping through a magazine. but then I reach down and put a hand in my pants. you get that feeling again, and this time you start mimicking my movements. grinding against the branch you're laying on. you watch me unzip my pants and pull out my cock. it's hard, and fills up my hand, and you watch me pump while you moan softly in the leaves, until we both cum at the same time. you can't help but be mesmerized by the ropes I shoot, your tongue subconsciously sticking out of your mouth. you ruin your shorts, and have to spend the next half hour figuring out how to climb down and change without getting caught.

you decide you need a better view. you've tried sneaking in my room, but I keep it locked down tight. The door to my room is always closed. My window, however, doesn't always get locked. Perks of being on the second story. You find that if you climb on the roof from your window, you can climb down and into mine. The first time you tried, it was locked, and I almost caught you. The next time you were successful, and that's when you started coming in and listening to and watching me fuck near constantly.

Under the bed was an interesting choice. You shoved yourself under there because you were almost caught. You heard me unlocking the door just as you were closing the window. You were squeezed in with all kinds of other junk, old sports equipment and dirty clothes, which you secretly did enjoy having your face shoved into. a couple of boxes, some used sex toys, and some trash. You could hear everything, every noise and breath caught in my throat. Every moan the slut of the week groaned into my mattress. The humiliation of feeling my thrusts under my bed was tempting, but there was nothing to see but shed clothes.

Hiding in the closet seemed to be your favorite though. Through the slats in the door, you could see everything. Every inch of flesh, every drop of sweat and cum, every throb of my cock. You loved it. You couldn't get enough. You started jerking off into my clothes you found in there. Your favorite was a pair of my boxers that I had been too lazy to change for a few days, so they really stank like me. You'd watch, and pant, and rut into your hand as I would finish load after load into anything but you, and the hunger enveloped you. I started to be the only thing you thought about. But you were careful. You made sure you were never caught.

It was your birthday, and our parents were throwing you a party. You invited all your friends, there was music and games and even an inflatable bounce house, which you thought was a bit too childish, but didn't fight about it. You always kept an eye on me though. And I said, Fuck the party. You knew my routine by this point. I'd go steal a beer from the garage, sneak behind the tree to drink it, paw at one of the girls there until I took her up to my room for more of the same. You were prepared though. You snuck off from the party, and you were able to get inside my room. I had left my door unlocked, which was uncommon, but not unheard of, and you slipped inside the closet like so many times before. And like clockwork, there I was, leading one of your friends to my bed.

Something about this fuck felt different. I seemed... angry, almost, and I slammed into your friend with scary force. I pressed both of my hands into the small of your friend's back and I stretched her out and pushed as deep as I could. I pounded her wet holes, and I faced her towards the closet door. This was the hottest and roughest you had seen me be, at a few points seeing me punch into the slut's ribs a few times, told her I liked it better when she cried. and then, somehow, I looked at you. You swear I couldn't see you, you were hidden in the closet. you hadn't made any noise. but as I fucked your friend harder and angrier, I kept glancing at the door to the closet. I growled and groaned and finally thrusted my seed deep into your friend, and after a few minutes of gasping breaths, she gathered up her clothes, thanked me, and left.

I continued to lay there panting for a few moments longer before I got up and relocked the door behind your friend. Still nude, I flopped back on the bed on my back. My cock was angled directly at you, still mostly hard and glistening with cum and your friend's juices. After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, you caught me looking at the closet door again. I looked away out the window, and you were too afraid to move. Afraid to be caught. Your heart pounded in your chest, fearful of what I would say, what our parents would say. I made a frustrated face and then huffed loudly. I finally looked at the closet door again and made eye contact with you. I rolled my eyes and finally spoke.

"Well? Are you going to cower in there, or are you going to come and get a taste, clean me up? Figured I've made you wait long enough... C'mere, meimei, let me show you how happy a birthday you can have..."

[farshootergotme]

I get emotional thinking about how his family would react to Bruce's change if he ever started working on himself, on improving his behavior. But the one I think about the most is Dick Grayson.

Alfred is the one who was there from the very beginning, but Dick Grayson is who arrived and made the biggest impact. He's the first kid who Bruce took in, the one who approached this man and became his first partner to fight by his side out in the night.

Dick was able to pull Bruce out of the darkness that consumed him. No matter how many times Bruce went back, Dick's presence was a constant reminder that there's not only shadows. That if Bruce pushes back, fights so he won't be dragged down, he will find light.

However, it was a cycle. Dick would get him out, but Bruce would go back, sooner or later. And repeat. And Dick realized this and knew he couldn't let that be his whole life. But despite the distance, it still affects Dick knowing he can't find a definite solution for Bruce.

So, seeing Bruce actually change, get better and seeing that last...it would lift the heaviest weight on Dick's shoulders, who's felt responsible for Bruce's emotions since the day he became Robin.

It's been implied to him that Bruce needs him, that he's who keeps him from falling. And Dick, despite not always feeling like he is enough, carries with that responsibility because, deep down, he also feels like he owes it to Bruce, who Dick has needed (still needs) present in his life, too.

Bruce getting better would be like being able to breath again, but it would be so suffocating too.

Dick would happy for Bruce, for the man who raised him. He'd be relieved that the hurt will stop, for both his father and those he's continuously pushed away. But then he'll be anxious, will it really last? How long until he can be sure? And he'll be scared, does he still need him, now? Does a Batman who's gotten help still need Dick Grayson Robin? Nightwing? And lurking in the back of his mind, there'd be anger. Why now? Why after all those years? Why not before? Was Dick not enough reason to change? Was he never worth this? And shame will drown those thoughts. It's selfish, to think that way. He should be happy. He wants to be happy. He is happy. But he is also mad. He's sad and he mourns the child who never saw this side of Bruce. And most of all, he loves. He loves Bruce too much to hate him for it. No matter how angry, no matter how hurt, he loves his father and he's grateful for him, for his efforts. And all he can do is smile and congratulate him because that's everything he feels he has the right to say.

And when all is said and done, Bruce will come to him and Dick will have to face the worst part of this change;

Apologies.

If Bruce has truly changed, then he would know there's more things than he can count with his fingers that he has to apologize to his son for. And out of everything else, this is what Dick Grayson fears the most.

Dick can take it, he can hear Bruce out, but he can't unpack all the pain he's been accumulating in front of his dad. He can't bring himself to say 'I forgive you' out loud despite having convinced himself long ago that it's alright.

Bruce doesn't didn't do apologies. Things happened and then went back to normal and Dick was okay with that. He forgave him, he did. So, Bruce doesn't need to apologize, he doesn't have to make him say it out loud. He can't tell him, but he's forgiven him long ago. Even if it hurt, even if he was still resentful sometimes, even if he wanted to yell at him for it, Dick could push it all down and forgive him. Bruce shouldn't apologize, shouldn't bring it up again because Dick isn't strong enough to keep it all bottled up if Bruce starts acknowledging it, if he confirms that Dick wasn't crazy for feeling wronged and hurt.

He can take it, but he really can't.

Just thinking about it drives me crazy because, out of everyone, Dick Grayson might be the kid who's been waiting for this the longest, and who thought he'd already given up the idea of his father finding a lasting happiness that would bring permanent change in him. And it would be just so overwhelming.

[sukunasbow]

idea: patrick fingering reader while they’re in the bathtub. like, he just walks in while reader is taking a bath and goes to town. i know he’d be so smug, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, talking you through each one🫣

patrick fingering you in the bathtub ; mdni

after a long tennis practice, you decided the best remedy for your aching limbs was a relaxing bath before your boyfriend got home. however, your plans changed when just a few minutes after you got into the tub and nearly fell asleep, patrick walked into the bathroom and decided to join you as well.

now, you're sitting in between his legs, your back pressed to his chest and his arm reaching around your torso, sliding down to your pussy and curling his fingers inside of you.

"had a long day, hm?" he coos, pressing small kisses along your shoulder.

"yeah, i'm really tired." you cut yourself off with a loud moan when he hits the sweet spot of your cunt. "patrick, i just want to relax with you, i don't think i can take this." you pant.

"you can take it, baby. gonna make you feel better, mm'kay?" he whispers, nipping at your earlobe.

"patrick." you gasp, resting your head on his shoulder. "fuck, 'ss to much."

"be a good girl, it's alright."

you look up at him and are met with the sight of him smirking just as he slides another finger inside of your cunt, stretching you even more. with each movement of his fingers, you feel your walls adjust to them, as if his fingers were made to be inside of you.

he continues finger fucking you, watching your eyes glaze over and your lips part, getting dumbed down from the pleasure he's giving you.

"gonna cum, patrick."

"yeah? cum for me, baby." he nods, his tone mocking your current state.

his words push you over the edge and you feel your cunt tightening around his fingers, then releasing as you ride out your orgasm, your juices mixing with the water. you're left a gasping mess, your chest slowly rising and falling.

"we're not done yet, princess." he pauses, "we're just getting started."

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 198

Now Bruce was not expecting to reincarnate upon his death. At least he thinks he died, he’s pretty sure he did. There wasn’t any other reason for him to be a well, literal baby. Around two he thinks, which fits well with the fact that it’s around that time that babies start forming memory recall, if he, well, remembered correctly. 

But while he knew about reincarnation thanks to Shayera and Carter, he’d never exactly given it much thought towards himself. Because seriously, what were the chances of such a thing as him being given another chance? 

So he was quite surprised at his situation, experimentally opening and closing pudgy hands that looked well, just a tiny bit off. He’d never been that pale before, he thinks, even back when he never went outside like, ever. 

He turned his gaze towards the mobile above him with a sort of idle curiosity- a mixture of bats (ha) and other trinkets he wasn’t familiar with. It also caused him to get his first good look at his parent, asleep on a rocking chair right next to the crib. 

Huh. They had the same pale skin he did, albeit in the light it looked like it was slightly tinted blue, and while their hair was white they didn’t exactly look old. They looked surprisingly well rested for raising a toddler too, unless they had a nanny or something similar… He rolled over, managing to very shakily push himself to his feet with the help of the crib. 

Why was standing so hard as a toddler? And why did he have his memories of everything except how he had died anyway? 

His head whipped up from where they were staring at his feet when he heard a snort, finding his parent awake and standing. Somehow silently enough that he hadn’t noticed- or he was that easily distracted by the unfamiliar giddiness bursting in his chest. 

“Morning little bat,” his parent easily picked him up and held him while he inwardly sighed at the nickname. Of course his bat motif would follow him into this life. A low rumbling almost caused him to jump, his body relaxing before he could fully register the sound. The… purring? 

Oh. 

He wasn’t human this time around.