#he wouldn't use his “followers” to spread fear

[the-whispers-of-death]

cult leader stone .

i dont know where this thought came from or even if you can do anything with it. but know that i thought of this.

Anon: *proposes Cult Leader!Stone*

Stone in my head: HUH??

Honestly, I don't think Stone could be charismatic enough to be a cult leader. Unless it's Baker!Stone. Baker!Stone is the most charismatic Stone variant there is, and even then the man is too much of a softie to really be a cult leader.

So I feel like Cult Leader!Stone isn't really a cult leader, like not one who manipulates his followers like most cult leaders do, he just gained a shit ton of people who are hanging onto his every word and they follow him around. He's really confused because he's just a retired Fleet Marine Corpsman (I made him retired in this AU because how else is he supposed to be leading a cult, he can't lead one when he's on deployments), someone that's usually considered to be unapproachable.

I feel like the man would use his newfound power for good. Like:

Follower: What should we do in preparation for the second-coming of Jesus?

Stone, a Catholic who has never really heard a priest talk about the second-coming of Jesus: Take care of yourself and those around you. Drink lots of water and eat nutritiously. And don't force others to join the group.

Another Follower: ...We shouldn't spread the word about your holy word?

Stone: Maybe don't call it my holy word. And yeah, I mean, tell them what I've said, but only if they ask for it. Don't force them into a conversation about us.

Yeah, so like, I think Stone would just see the amount of people who want to buy or build a compound for this "cult" and be like "We should let the homeless sleep and live here for free."

[munsonsmixtapes]

hello! if you have the time could you please write soft Eddie guiding a shy reader when they make out for the first time?

part two

There's a knock on Eddie's door and he hurries to answer it, hoping it's who he thinks it is. He isn't expecting anyone else, but it's not uncommon for people to show up looking to buy from him, but he really hopes it's you. He's been looking forward to tonight for over a week since you suggested it. He opens the door and there you are, beautiful as ever.

He steps aside and you plant a soft kiss on his cheek as you enter the trailer. You hold out a DVD and a few of Eddie's favorite snacks and he can't help but smile at how sweet you are. You've only been on a few dates and hopes he wouldn't scare you off if he proposed. Because if he's being honest, he can't see himself with anyone else.

No one he's dated has ever been so sweet to him. All they seemed to be interested in was using him for his body and rarely anything else. He wasn't really known as Eddie "the freak" Munson (well, maybe in other ways) anymore, but it still seemed like people didn't want anything else from him besides drugs or sex.

But you? All you seem to want from him is his company, genuinely interested in all of his fun facts that he has about random subjects and you even laugh at his jokes. And they aren't pity laughs either. You're a breath of fresh air and he hopes you'll stick around forever.

"You didn't have to do all this," he tells you with a smile as he takes the stuff from you. You're staring down at the floor and he can tell you're getting shy on him again. He doesn't mind, though. He thinks it's cute.

"Of course I did," you insist. "I wanted to treat you for once," you then smile and Eddie never gets tired of seeing it.

"Well I'm not going to say no to that," he responds then takes you by the hand, threading his fingers through yours. "Now c'mon."

You follow him over to the couch and the two of you sit together, but you make sure to leave a little space to be polite. You want to be cuddled up into his side, though. You want rest your head on his chest as his hand lazily runs up and down your back.

A lot of the people you've out with all seemed to be after one thing so it warms your heart that Eddie is willing to go at your pace. He always waits for you to initiate things like hugs or kisses and waits until you pull away, never asking for more. He's nothing but a gentleman and you really like spending time with him.

Eddie spreads out all of the movies you brought, his eyebrows quirking at the variety. You seem to have an eclectic taste and he admires that. He plucks the horror movie from the selection and heads over to the VCR. As soon as his back is turned, you begin to panic. You had only brought the movie to give you excuse to get close to him because of the scary scenes, but now you're beginning to regret your decision.

Eddie turns back to you and you try to hide your fear, debating on telling him that you'd rather watch something else, but you can't yourself to form the words. So you just sit in silence as Eddie moves back over to the couch, sitting even closer to you now and your fear takes over as you throw yourself into his arms.

Eddie lets out a laugh at your eagerness but he wraps his arms around you anyway, pulling you even closer to him as he turns his head towards the screen. You instantly feel better knowing that he'll keep you safe but can't help but think about what Steve told you when he rented the movie out to you.

He told you that it was the scariest movie he'd ever seen and that he couldn't sleep for days afterwards. And you rented it anyway even though he had suggested many more options that weren't nearly as scary and would still help you get into Eddie's arms despite how silly he thought the idea was.

The movie hasn't even started and you're already burying your head into his chest, gripping his shirt in your fists as tight as possible. His hand moves up to stroke the back of your head as he murmurs something to you that you can't quite hear.

"Hey, hey," he says as grabs hold of your face, forcing you to look him in the eye. His are nothing but soft as they look at you, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, suddenly feeling silly for how scared you just were. "It's nothing."

"We don't have to watch the movie," he tells you. "If you were scared, why didn't you say something?" It's a fair question, but you stay silent, not wanting to tell him the truth.

"I-" you start to say but cut yourself off, not wanting to admit the truth nor finding the right words to use.

"You what, honey?" He asks, his hands moving up and down your back exactly the way you wanted him to. Sometimes you're convinced he's a mind reader.

"I just wanted an excuse to cuddle you," you tell him, your voice so soft he almost didn't hear you. And at that, Eddie lets out a laugh before pulling you to his chest, giving you a tight squeeze. You have to remind yourself that he's not laughing at you, but because of you.

"You could have just cuddled me," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and it is. Well, it should be, but you've always found it hard to voice what you want no matter how badly you want it.

"How about we call off the movie for now?" He asks and turns off the TV then pulls you closer to him, his hands still moving up and down your back. You look up at him as he licks his lips, now unable to think about anything but how inviting they look.

The two of you have kissed multiple times, but it's never gone any farther than little pecks here and there because you've been too afraid to do any more than that. But now you feel the need to go all the way, wondering what he tastes like, if his hair is as soft as it looks.

But you've never made out with anyone and that scares you. Even though you know for sure that Eddie would talk you through it, the whole thing still makes you feel nervous. But apparently not nervous to forget it completely because before you can stop yourself, you're looking up at Eddie, gulping before getting his attention.

"Eddie?" You ask and his head turns to you, those honey eyes boring into yours. You melt under his gaze but trying to muster up the confidence again.

"Hm?" He asks, that stupid smirk making its way upon his face, the same one that's always there when he looks at you.

"Can-" you cut yourself off for the second time tonight but Eddie just sits there, patient as ever as he waits for you to speak. He knows how hard it can get sometimes for you to speak your mind so he doesn't mind waiting for you to finish your thoughts. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Of course you can," he responds, taking your face in his hands and pecking your lips once, twice, three times before pulling away only for you to grumble in response.

"No," you shake your head. "I want a real kiss."

"Oh," he replies, wondering what made you decide on that, but wanting to oblige. He's willing to give you whatever you ask.

His hands move down to neck, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across your jaw as he leans in again, his lips slowly capturing yours as they move together slowly. He's nothing but gentle as he kisses you, showing you how it's done.

Your hands press against his chest and all you can think about how you can't believe you've gone so long without his lips attached to yours. They're nothing but soft and gentle and now you're sure that you can do this for hours.

Eddie breaks away before you're ready and you're breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. He stares down, a chuckle falling from his lips as he presses his forehead to yours.

"You're supposed breathe, baby," he tells you softly and you feel your cheeks heat.

"Can we try that again?" You ask as you pick up one of his curls, twirling it around your pointer finger, staring down at it as you speak again. "Do you think we could...make out? I promise to breathe this time."

"Oh, honey," he sighs before pressing a kiss to you lips. "I'd love to make out with you." Another and another until he's capturing your lips again, taking the lead again. You have no idea what you're doing but Eddie is being nothing but a sweetheart as he guides you through it.

He pulls away again and you whine this time at the absence of his lips, chasing him and getting in another quick kiss before you sit back, waiting for him.

"Do you want to sit in my lap?" He suggests. "I think that'll be more comfortable for you."

Eddie sits with his back against the couch and you do as he suggests and straddle his waist which feels foreign to you but he's right. It's much more comfortable. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest on the small of your back, a good spot between your waist and upper back because this is just kissing and he doesn't want to give you the impression that he's going to go any farther.

"You kiss me now," he says and your heart races in your chest as you think about fucking it all up.

"Are you sure?" You ask, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it as you contemplate.

"Positive," he nods. "You've got this. Do whatever you want, baby. This is all about you."

"Okay," you nod, leaning forward and slotting your lips just like he did, Eddie immediately responding to you but he's moving at your pace instead of leading like he previously had.

You remember to breath through your nose as your fingers thread into his hair on each side of his head. His hair is normally off limits because people get too rough with it, but with you, he doesn't care. In fact, he loves when you play with his hair, a little bit of love sprinkles into every touch of it.

"You're doing so good, honey," he murmurs against your lips. "Do you want to try sticking your tongue in my mouth?"

"Please," you whine with a yank of his hair and if you can feel his cock hardening underneath you, you don't say anything. And thank god for that.

"Do you want me to show you first?"

"Yes," you breath against his lips and he's getting even more hard, knowing that he's going to have to get himself off later because there's no way he's going to expect you to go all the way right now.

Eddie captures your lips again as his hands rest against your waist, landing on the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. His lips are moving against you to warm you up and then he gingerly flicks his tongue against your bottom lip.

"Open up," he commands against your lips and you do as he says, opening up for him as he slides his tongue into your mouth. He swirls his tongue around yours and you mimic his actions, tugging on his hair as a moan falls from your lips at the feeling of his tongue moving with yours.

Your eyes widen and you can't help but pull away as you suddenly feel embarrassed at the sound you've just made. Eddie, though? Eddie's convinced that's the hottest thing he's ever heard and he really wants you to make it again.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he says quickly, trying his best to assure you. "It was really hot, actually."

"It was?"

"Definitely," he nods. "Would it help if you made me moan too?" All you can do is nod and before he can say anything else, your lips are on his, only a few seconds passing before your tongue is flicking against his bottom lip. He opens up immediately and you mimic what he just showed you, your tongue swirling around his as you pulling on his hair even harder, a loud moan falling from his lips.

You haven't thought about it until now since you were so caught up in his kisses, but you're soaking wet between your legs and if you had more confidence, you'd ask Eddie to take care of you, but you don't so you don't. You don't think you're ready for that right now anyway.

You try to focus on the taste of him to get your mind off of it. He tastes like cigarettes that you know he smoked before you came over and you don't know why but you can't get enough of it. It's intoxicating.

You stay like that for a while until your lips are kiss bitten and your legs are asleep from you straddling him for too long. You both decide to call it a night and Eddie walks you to your car like the gentleman he is, kissing you one more time before you drive away. He then goes back inside and heads to his room where he collapses onto his bed, deciding that he's probably (definitely) in love with you.

[ashlynnfall]

ekko looks for powder in the color blue. the sky, the water, hair, and eyes. blue blooms in the flowers near his tree and weaves through the streets of zaun, leaving trails for him to follow, leading him to something that no longer exists.

ekko looks for powder in light. it emanates from fire and spreads throughout zaun in the night. it's in the fixtures that decorate the streets, and it cascades down onto ekko's hideout, illuminating the mural that commemorates what has been lost. light reminds him of her. her bright smile and her blinding beauty. it revives the past they shared before tragedy struck, of that unforgettable night where they danced under the stars, of that kiss on the ledge...it's an everlasting reminder of his deepest affection.

ekko looks for powder in the gadgets he possesses. he searches for traces of her in the trinkets he collects, tinkering away to create new ones. inventions are where he looks the hardest, reminding himself of the days they spent working on innovative projects together. he thinks of her genius, her drive, and her madness in the craft. the memories bring a comforting smile to his face, which is a rare sight these days.

ekko looks for powder in time, lamenting how much they used to have together. there's a cruel irony in "the boy who shattered time" nickname. he was unable to spend the time he wanted with her, he couldn't shatter time enough to fit his needs. he enjoyed what they spent together, but it was too little. he could rewind time over and over and over again, but he still wouldn't get enough of her. his love for powder is timeless.

ekko looks for powder in his title: the boy savior. yet another cruel irony. he saved the entire world, ensuring the survival of many. in fact, he's spent his whole life saving people. he's always sacrificing his own needs for others as he leads a life of unbridled altruism. in a way, he's making up for being unable to save powder from jinx and silco. the boy savior, capable of rescuing anyone and everyone, except for the love of his life.

ekko looks for powder in the new era of zaun. sevika leading in the council, children running in the streets in glee rather than fear, the people breathing fresh air-it was everything they ever dreamed of. if only she was around to see it. ekko searches for the murals dedicated to her, seeks out the remnants of her hideout, scouts for anyone with leftover stories of her to tell. he observes the elated spirits of the city and bears the pain deep within his smile, reminding him of what could have been.

ekko looks for powder physically. it's not enough to just remember her. he needs to hug her, hold her close, and never let her go. he needs to hear her voice again, to invent with her again, to dance with her again, he just needs her to be here again. powder's absence is impossible to ignore, and ekko's tired of acknowledging it. he wants to be selfishly in love with her, but he can't. the world needed a savior, ekko answered the call.

ekko never stops looking for powder. she's in his head, in his heart, in his memories, in his home-no place is without her image. in his mind, powder's words echo promises of the past, not knowing that they'd be broken in the future. he searches for her in the people of zaun, hoping for the day when someone's face matches the one he craves to see so desperately. his search is endless, hopelessly devoted to a ghost of his past.

ekko finds powder in the hand that extends to him from a large white blimp. blue and pink nails decorate the pale skin covering it, confirming who stands before him. he looks at her bright smile, her pink eyes, the blue hair that grew back to the tops of her shoulders, the beautiful face he yearns to get lost in. he takes her in, processing everything he can see, praying that this isn't some horrible dream or hallucination.

ekko finds powder in the hug that they share, the hands that he holds, and in the lips that kiss him. ekko finds powder in the promises of adventure, in the conversations about their post-war lives, and in the apologies for everything. ekko finds powder.

powder and ekko find each other in love, in the reunion with their surviving friends and family, in the celebrations of a new zaun. they find each other on the dance floor once again, but this time, in the right universe. they bask in each other's arms, refusing to ever let go.

ekko finally finds powder, promising to never lose her again.

a/n: hi! i wanted to give ekko the ending he deserves because he's my fav character and deserves the whole world. timebomb as a couple mean so much to me, so i wanted to write a little story about their reunion after the finale of season 2. i need them together!! i also just adore ekko and powder, and that scene of them dancing in the alt universe was insanely well done. i hope you enjoyed my work, and thank you for reading! any tips of improving my writing or general thoughts on the fic would be greatly appreciated. thank you for your time <3

[lowkeyrobin]

JAMES HOOK ; perfect revenge

summary ; after also turning into a weird flamingo hybrid with uliana, hook tries to conjure up a plan for revenge for you. and ulianna

warnings ; language, bullying

disclaimers ; reader is a siren (on land)

requested by ; @stargener

word count ; 902

masterlist

Uliana cackles, using her tentacle to hand you two flamingo feathers.

"That's too many!" Bridget exclaims

Uliana glares at her. "Does it look like I care?"

You swallow your feathers, giggling back at your friends.

"You're just jealous," She rolls her eyes, following your actions. "Of my beauty."

"You'll regret that," Bridget mumbles.

You and Uliana giggle and cackle, you leaning over her shoulder to look in her portable mirror. You smile, tilting your head as you watch your hair glow a bright pink.

Uliana jumps back, coughing up feathers with a worried, scared look. Her hair also glows pink, the color spreading from the fringe to the occipital rather quickly as she frightfully looks around, seeing all eyes were on her and you.

"You look a little.. pink" Hook giggles.

You begin to do the same, looking back at Hook, unable to call for him as you hack up feather upon feather. You fall to your knees, watching feathers magically grow from your skin, a thick coat of them burying into your flesh.

"Someone should help them!"

Your shaky hands are held in front of your face, you watch as your fingers grow into claws. Hook's expression clearly falters, seeing you watch yourself turn into some hybrid monster.

The laughter fills your ears, the smiles and giggles the only thing your brain would process. They stare at you as you sit hopelessly, watching yourself fall to the magical trickery. You'd never felt more weak. As your reputation quickly drips down the drain, you think of how you wouldn't be feared any longer, how you'd end up becoming a victim to your own creation.

"Yeah, someone should help them" Hades mutters, Maleficent smacking him.

Harry looks between the couple and then at you two, watching Morgie try and help Ulianna up from the ground. He's quickly smacked back, landing on his ass as Uliana rises, showcasing her new face job. Her face represented one of a flamingo, beak and all.

Her screams are turned into bird honks as she quickly chases after Bridget and Ella. She chases them away toward a side yard, the AK's following quickly. Hades and Maleficent shrug, following the crowd. Morgie does the same, breaking into a sprint after watching Red and Chloe chase after Uliana.

Hook rushes to you, paralyzed in fear and embarrassment on the concrete. His hands float over your shoulders, not exactly wanting to touch you.

"Go get them" You snarl, wanting your boyfriend to leave you be.

He quickly nods, rushing after his friends, his heeled boots clicking on the pavement.

Your limbs were coated in feathers, your hands now claws, your hair bright pink. With wide eyes, you stumble over to the fountain in the courtyard, hoping and wishing the magical water would rid you of your now hideous appearance.

Water was your home, maybe even just sitting in it would make you feel slightly okay.

You place your feet in the fountain, drenching your boots. You sit down criss-cross, running your head beneath the running water, a shiver running down your spine as the cold liquid hits your feathered skin.

You feel the feathers fall from your limbs, your skin revealed once again, leaving large dark marks on your skin, like strawberry skin but ten times worse. Your claws shrink back down to your normal hands, your hair's new pink glow fading as it rinses away from your scalp.

"Y/n?" James speaks from behind you, having rushed to your aid after Ulianna fell into the magic spring water pool not far away. "Are you alright, darling?"

"No," you quickly answer, eyebrows furrowed out of your internal anger.

He slowly approaches, trying to bring you away from the fountain, to dry you off at least. "My love-"

"Shut up."

You lounge in your dorm with James, trying to push your head anywhere that wasn't back earlier in the day. Your head rests on your pillow as you stare at the ceiling, allowing you to count the stars in the night sky through the skylight above your bed.

You wanted to get back at Bridget, but didn't know how.

She subjected you to humiliation, to embarrassment. She wasn't anything, she had to bribe people with food to be her friend. She was a pathetic excuse of life and a waste of space. She'd grow to be nothing-

"I have an idea," James speaks, turning back to look at you on your bed, having been looking out the window.

You turn your head to look at him. "What?"

He slyly smiles, a mischievous look in his eye. "We embarrass her at Castlecoming. She wouldn't miss it for the life of her, we make her fall to the floor, ugly as an ogre."

You blink. "You sound like you're talking about me," you mumble, rolling your eyes as you turn on the bed, your back facing him.

He sighs, pulling you up from the bed. You stand on your feet, your pajamas resting upon your frame as he laces his hand into yours, his hook carefully resting over your shoulder.

"We'll get her back, my lovely siren royalty." He smiles, his eyes gazing upon your lips before looking back at you in the eye. To say he was in love was an understatement. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

You lightly smile, glancing down before looking back up at him. "Yeah"

"Good"

[melloollem]

Trash|| Bruce Wayne × child!reader

Summary: In a city where survival is your main objective, you do whatever it takes, including getting involved in Gotham's criminal world.

Warnings: Common comic book violence, weapons, corruption of minors (minors involved in crimes), reader with no gender specified, comment if you want to be tagged in the continuation.

(Chapter ll, Chapter lll, Chapter lV)

(Dc masterlist)

Prologue

The problem with Gotham was that those who said crime didn't pay would soon start to think it did and those who said it did would find the end too quickly for it to be true. Your problem was that you didn't have time to decide whose side you were on. When the city became a field of war, it was better to have a side, whether it was the side of the innocent or not.

Although you were young, you had seen the city destroy itself and start over many times. At some point, you realized that it wasn't starting over, it was just continuing. Fear gas exploded in the city, chaos spread, a villain was arrested, next month another villain had his own idea for an attack and the city didn't even have a chance to repair the damage from the last attack. It was in one of these circumstances that you lost your family. What did you do without your mother in a city where fear was a constant feeling? Survive and you would follow the law of the weakest.

Petty theft, that's how it always starts, take what you want and run. You weren't the most skilled, but circumstances make the thief and it's not as if you didn't have examples to follow. You lived on the worst side of town, used to seeing robberies almost daily, it was easy, just see where they went wrong and do better. You noticed that most of the thugs who committed robberies in Crime Alley were caught, ironic isn't it? You had also calculated a gap in time when there was no vigilante on duty, it was a few minutes before they spread across the city, the police patrols in Gotham were constant, but they weren't looking for you if you committed petty crimes, there were bigger problems for the city.

In a few months, you had your own map of Gotham, with the information that really mattered: areas prone to robbery, areas that should be avoided, small crooks, big crooks, who ran what, what crime could be committed in each area, which crime was worth the most. If circumstances made the thief, you were in the circumstance most likely to make him successful. And if it had all started with petty theft, soon your preparation would prove that you were capable of more, and it didn't take long for the bandits in the area to notice your potential, now you work as a bandit's henchman, it's not as if you were a big deal, they just considered you skillful enough. You could be useful to them, but if you died in a few weeks' time there would be another one like you, this town was shit.

And if with small robberies, you were out of focus, when a major city bank is robbed with all the vigilantes busy trying to stop it, now everyone knew there was something fishy and you knew it wouldn't be long before the vigilantes were on your tail. You could escape the Gotham police, but Batman? It wasn't about being found, it was about when you would be found. Your first thought was to run away, but did anyone care if you got killed for going against the law? They were clear, you stayed until the end, it was kill or be killed.

Bruce followed your every move, if your plan consisted of staying off the vigilantes' radar, once they saw you, it wasn't hard to find the rest, every crime was in evidence. At first, he thought you were like young Jason, a kid from Gotham who was doing everything he could to survive, but without hurting anyone, and well, you were trying to survive, but if someone had to die in the process, it wouldn't be you.

He thought about approaching you at first, but you didn't look like you were going to give in, you were one of those who were always ready to attack, too scared to look into the dark before firing. If he wanted to approach you, it would have to be slowly, he didn't want you to run away or react. You might have been the one holding a gun, but you were also a child who shuddered at the sound of his shot.

But Batman's plans for you would have to hurry up. In one of the robberies you had planned and were on the front line for, you had been shot in the stomach, and it was now that you would discover that crime doesn't pay. Something peculiar about this situation was that there were no police, it was a vigilante's bullet that had pierced you. Now the Red Hood was carrying your weak body to a Gotham emergency ward, how could he have guessed that the person who shot him was just a child? The second he heard a child scream in reaction to the bullet, he ran for your life.

You looked exactly like a street kid, did you have parents? He didn't have time to find out, he wasn't sure if someone would come and stay with you in hospital, so he did. For the next few hours guilt consumed Jason, how could he shoot a child? He was in the waiting room, now in civilian clothes, waiting to hear from you. He hadn't called anyone, but after signs of a disastrous mission in a Gotham warehouse, Jason had a target on his back, so Bruce obviously wanted to know where he was.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

This is the prologue to a story that will soon be released. I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned to my profile. Every new episode released will be linked in this post, comment if you want to be tagged.

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1554

Finale I - part 2/3 (Agatha X Reader ending):

You did not fear death. At least not anymore.

Agatha was clearly hesitating, You were the one person she could not lose. But she could not give herself up either.

It annoyed her how you were not letting Billy take the fall for all of you. It was that simple, and yes, it was cruel, but this was life.

You would learn to live with it.

Billy looked at you, and he knew you were serious. Yet he could not let you do this. You were the last person to deserve such fate.

And so, he directed his attention on Agatha as he tried hard; a part of him hoping the Road and even this final battle was enough to truly help him connect with her.

He looked at her and eventually managed to connect with her telepathically. He finally managed to bypass any barriers and mental walls she had raised, a result of her magic and training across the centuries.

'Agatha', he called in her mind. The purple witch did an excellent job at hising her surprise, not expecting to hear anyone in her mind; let alone him. 'Is this what happened to Nicky?' He dared to ask.

His question hit Agatha harder than any of Rio's attacks. She knew this was not what happened to their son, and yet, she could not help but feel this... guilt and pain.

Nicky wouldn't want her to sacrifice one more soul to Rio, and he sure wouldn't want you to stay behind or take the fall for everyone.

He always had a soft spot for you.

As Agatha looked at the serious you with the glass shard still in your hands, she made a decision... one, she most likely won't live to regret it.

With silent steps, Agatha started to walk towards her former lover and spread her arms, inviting her into her embrace.

Rio took notice, and yet she did not fight this subconscious need to be in Agatha's arms. She did not expect her lover to hold her face gently and then initiate a kiss; even though she was almost always the one to do so.

Billy stared in surprise, not expecting such a move. All he could do was stare, his mind taking a little longer to realize Agatha's true plan.

You didn't, though, and once you spotted the faint, green veins on Agatha's cheeks; you knew what she was doing.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise, disbelief following after along with fear; as your body and heart processed the intense emotions caused by that kiss...

Or better say, Agatha's reckless and selfless plan.

"No," you exclaimed weakly and stopped putting your magic into healing your wound.

You stared as faint green veins spread across Agatha's cheek, Rio's magic entering her body. Black magic flared in response and started to wrap around the two lovers as Agatha's skin started to turn paler and paler.

Rio understood it too, but she could not stop, her magic already affecting Agatha. She kept the kiss, a single tear trailing down her cheek as she realized what Agatha was doing and how she had chosen to end this all... her noble sacrifice.

Rio couldn't stop, but you could, or so your subconscious thought.

For the second the two lovers parted lips, your scream echoed across the backyard as your white magic went out of control. Forming a bright white wave, it expanded circulalry all around you; tossing Billy back but also Rio.

Agatha had already started to levitate, black magic tendrils sucking her life away but quickly disappeared as the force of your white magic obliterated them.

You sprinted on your feet, running on Agatha's body that was now laying on the grass; skin turning paler as time was almost up.

You knelt and placed her head on your lap, both hands holding her cheeks as your white magic glowed and tried to help save your lover.

"It's no use." Rio said as she recovered from your outburst, looking with a saddened look at the sight in front of her. "She took my power. She will die."

This was not how she wanted Agatha to go, and if Rio could do something about it, she would. But the damage had already been done, and it could not be reversed.

Not by her.

You did not even look at Rio, your eyesight blurry from all the tears you failed to hold back as you kept trying to save Agatha; but your magic only seemed slowing down her death... not stopping it.

"I was created to stop her," your bottom lip trembled as you fought back a sob. "Yet I chose to join her... If this means I can save her and if I fail and die... then Agatha and I can be together."

With one last try, with one last spark of hope within; you bent down and kissed Agatha. Your eyes closed as you focused on the kiss, the familiar sensation of her lips against yours fueling the pain in your heart, but you kept going.

Your magic entered her body through the kiss, its powerful energy quickly meeting Rio's darker one; the two forces fighting but ultimately... yours was slowly purifying the toxic for Agatha magic that your lover had willingly absorbed.

Your hands and your body glowed with magic, it's shine so bright that could be seen from the curious humans neighbours that stood in their yards; having noticed the changing sky but having no clue what was taking place.

Usually, your pure magic would harm Agatha; whose dark magic had formed and stained her body even though Wanda drained her. But now, your magic was busy fighting something else, and while winning; it was weakening.

At last, the white glow started to die as an ethereal wave of white magic was flowing gently around you; a semi transparent dom that kept you and your lover within.

And as that magic was fading away, Billy and Rio could see the result of your actions.

You gently pulled back, feeling drained and exhausted; as if you had been fighting for your life for days, little to no energy left to sustain you.

Yet it was all worth it as you looked at Agatha, her hair now a pure white; a side effect of your power. But the colour had returned to her cheeks, her blue eyes glowing with life.

You could not help but smile weakly as you watched her and she watched you. Her hand moved, fingers caressing your cheek in a sweet way, and you leaned on them.

You tried to stand up slowly to give Agatha space and also join you. Your knees felt weak, and as you tried to take a step back, your body gave up on you.

You stared to fall to the side; too weak to remain standing.

Rio was quick to catch you, gently supiering your body with hers; arms protectively holding you, preventing you from slipping off her embrace.

Agatha weakly managed to slowly push her body up; still trying to recover from almost dying and also the remnants of your magic residing within her.

"Leave her alone, Rio," she said weakly, worrying for your well-being after pulling such a stant.

Rio glanced at Agatha but was more focused on you, your breathing silent and your eyes fighting to stay open.

"You stupid girl, giving your gift away like that," she told you.

You smiled weakly, feeling proud that you did and having no regrets.

"And I will keep doing it until you let us all go," you replied weakly, stubborn as ever.

Rio glanced at the new moon above and then at you before leaving out a heavy sigh.

"You are lucky your soul is not mine to reap, babygirl." she pecked your forehead and helped you remain steady on your legs.

Billy, at the same time, helped Agatha to stand; looking with confusion at Rio.

The green witch kept her arm around your waist, unsure if you could stand on your own yet. She looked at Agatha. "One life, no more cheating death," she then looked at Billy. "No more body jumping. When the time comes, no fighting"

Perhaps this was not what the rules said... but not everything was set in stone. Exceptions could be made, at least partially; little loopholes in the grand plan

Rio did it before, and from the looks of it, she had to do it again. She would never admit it, but deep down, she did not truly mind.

You and Agatha muttered too much to lose you so early, especially when, from the looks of it; relationships might have been mended, at least partially.

Billy and Agatha nodded, not wanting to chase their luck further or risk one of you dying for good this time.

Of course, Billy, being the curious boy he was; had to ask one more thing.

"Rio," he called her, trying not to feel intimidated by her sharp look. "I... " he cleared his throat. "What did you mean with what you said? About not being able to take Y/N's soul?"

Lady Death smirked faintly, her fingers gently caressing your cheek. "She is a blessed child. I can't reap her until it is said," she replied vaguely, leaving Billy more confused than before.

Finale I - part 3/3

[A/N] - Finale 2 part 1 will be published the day after, focusing on a better and smuttier ending for Rio, Reader, and Agatha as a triple pair.

[vashs-turtleneck]

Preen.

Rating: T

Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader Summary: Caring for Vash when his wings sprout. CW: angst, fluff, blood, mentions of self-harm, Trimax Vash coded. Word Count: 1.4k A/N: man oh man do I love bird men.

Vash normally stays huddled up in his room on days like this. There's times where he's had to spend nights on end locked inside until his feathers would painstakingly slowly go away. He'd sit on his bed (if he even had a bed at the time) and wait until he was back to normal. He wouldn't leave, he wouldn't eat, most of the time he wouldn't even sleep. He'd just sit there, alone, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. When it was all over, he'd be in a nest of dusty sheets, surrounded by smears of blood and ripped feathers, with crimson dripping from his back from where he had agonizingly plucked at himself.

A monster, huddled away from sight.

Inhuman.

He would never dare go outside like this.

But of course, when you came around, following closely at his heel at all times, you never allowed him to hide away from you like that. You once came looking for him after his prolonged silence, and you had found him in a pitiful state – eyes rimmed red, bloody nails clutching at his own flesh like it wasn't meant to be on his bones, and most notably, white feathers sprouting from his face and wings spread out from his shoulder blades. 

He was mortified, embarrassed, scared.

This is it. You're going to see what he really is, and you're going to leave.

He went through all the stages of grief when he saw your eyes widen and your steps come to a halt. He was ready to hear your screams of terror and then never see you again. As much as he wanted to hide, he didn't look away. If you were going to run, he wanted to get one last good look at your beautiful face.

But you didn't leave him that night. You stayed awake with him, talking to him, and you had no flicker of fear or disgust when you looked at him. You didn't get too close, you didn't try to touch him, you didn't stare at him too intently (though he's sure you wanted to), and in the morning when his feathers were gone, you took him out to breakfast like it was any other day. Like nothing changed.

It took a long time to build up into letting you see him like this. Apart from that first night when you refused to leave his side after you saw the scratches on his back and the blood under his nails, he only allowed your gaze for brief moments, like when you insisted on bringing him food, and when you'd come back to scold him for not eating it. 

Eventually, you started sitting with him. You wouldn't speak. You'd simply sit in the same space as him, often in a chair in the corner, sometimes on the floor by the bed as you read a book, doodled in a sketchbook, or took a nap. No touches, no words, but still offering him a presence he's never had before when he's felt the furthest from human.

He was the first one to break the silence when he saw you using one of his shedded feathers as a bookmark of all things. You simply responded, “I like it. It's pretty,” like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

It's safe to say that nowadays, if he isn't there to greet you when you come down for breakfast in the mornings, you'll be knocking on his door within the hour.

Tonight, you're sitting on his bed, his back facing you as he sits with his knees to his chest, hiding the cracks in his face from your gaze. Your fingers gently run through his sprouted wings, picking out bits of lint and grains of sand caught in his feathers with a tenderness you always grant him, even when he's like this, when he doesn't even have the heart to look you in the eyes.

“I'm sorry, mayfly.”

“Hush. Don't be silly.”

His wings shift, slowly unfurling from around himself the longer you touch them for, as if trying to nudge into your hands for more. A part of him feels bad for liking the attention, but he doesn't want you to stop, even though the feeling of anyone touching the plumage along his back still feels so foreign to him.

“So soft,” you hum, and he feels the heat rise to his face, his cheeks dusting pink under the cracks and feathers. Something about you saying that makes his chest feel warm, despite how much he hates the part of himself you're referring to.

“You know,” you start to say, pulling his attention back to you as your gentle fingers pluck the dirt from him. “I'd like it if you stopped hiding from me whenever this happens.”

Vash winces at your words. “I don't… like it when you see me like this.” 

Don't look at me.

Don't leave me.

These wings, these feathers, these marks along his face and body – they all feel like some curse. It's not something you should be seeing, but he can't help wanting you here. It almost feels like he has to keep his wings from reaching towards you, like they have a mind of their own.

“I know, and I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving you alone,” you say back, your hands carefully running along the lengths of his wings, your palms smoothing over the feathers, and the feeling sends an involuntary shiver up his spine. “Is it bad if I like seeing you like this?”

“Heh. I don't see why you would. It's… strange. I would never blame you if you wanted to run away.” And he wouldn't. He knows this, and he knows you know this. He's told you far too many times that you should leave, that you shouldn't be around a monster like him, and sometimes he was much meaner than he ever intended to be with you. It's something he'll regret regardless of how many times he's apologized and how many times you've forgiven him. 

He just… doesn't feel like himself when he's in this state. He wants you far away, but he wants you close. He wants to scream and cry and curl in on himself until he disappears, but he wants to wrap himself around you and keep you with him in a nest of feathers until he forgets the outside world exists. His skin crawls and prickles where his feathers sprout from, and sometimes his flesh feels like it's burning, but he aches for the feeling of your hands running through his plumage. It's gotten so, so much worse since you've been around, and he doesn't know why, but he'll keep that bit to himself. No point in making you feel bad for his alien biology when he himself doesn't understand it all.

“I would never run away from you. Hell, half the time I'm struggling to keep up with you,” and his breath hitches when he suddenly feels your arms wrap around his midsection, your head resting against the bed of feathers on his back.

“I think you're beautiful, Vash. With and without wings.”

‘Beautiful.’

What a strange way of describing him.

“You like them…” he mutters quietly, more to himself than to you, like he's trying to wrap his head around what that could possibly mean. He doesn't even notice the way his feathers fluff up and bury your face in his down.

“I do, but I'm more fond of who they're attached to.”

You care, inhuman and all.

He was ready to never see you again after that first night, but you're still here, and you're preening him of all things. You've stitched his wounds, comforted him during his nightmares, held him when he's cried, but this? This is a level of intimacy he's not familiar with. It's vulnerable and selfless and loving and… so much more than he deserves, but you’re doing it for him. He has no way of repaying all the ways you've healed him. His wounds are still there, and they're far too deep to ever hope for the scars to completely fade, but your presence alone is a soothing balm he doesn't think he could ever live without again.

One day, maybe he'll look you in the eyes when you take care of him like this. Maybe he'll turn around and let you card your fingers through the feathers on his cheeks. Maybe after that, maybe when you're taking a nap, he'll hold you close in his arms like he wants to and envelop you in feathers, and he'll show you, despite how much he wishes they weren't there, how warm his wings can be.

divider source.

[aishangotome]

Luke & Gilbert's Story of Reminiscence [The Day We Became a Fake Family] - Part 1

Luke: Hey, Emma. There's a new shop in town, wanna go with me?

Emma: Sure, but it's rare for you to invite me somewhere.

Luke: It's a shop for women. I'm interested in their limited-edition honey candy, but I'd stand out going alone, wouldn't I?

Emma: Hehe... In that case, I'd be happy to.

Lately, with Prince Gilbert of Obsidian staying at the Rhodolite castle, there's been a constant tension, and it often feels suffocating.

So when he invited me to town, I immediately accepted, but—

Gilbert: Oh, are you two going out?

Just as we were about to reach the exit, where a clear blue sky spread out before us, we bumped into Prince Gilbert.

Luke: Yeah, it's a date, so don't get in the way.

Gilbert: Oh? Sounds interesting. Makes me want to play a game of follow the leader.

Luke: Are you a man of leisure or something?

(I've been thinking this for a while, but Luke is amazing because he doesn't change his attitude at all, even with Prince Gilbert.)

Unlike me, with my body stiffening with nervousness, or the servants who hurried past, Luke is a valuable presence who can face Prince Gilbert and exchange words with him confidently.

Wanting to learn from him, I mentally chided my unconsciously fearful heart.

Gilbert: If you're going to town, I'd like a souvenir, okay?

Luke: What? No way.

Gilbert: I'm a state guest. ...Right, little rabbit?

Emma: What kind of souvenir would you like?

Gilbert: Hmm...

Luke: If you're going to think about it that hard, don't ask.

Gilbert: Rhodolite is a country of gourmet food, so it can't be helped, can it?

Gilbert: Ah, that's right. I'd like a sandwich from the bakery that little rabbit always goes to.

Emma: ...How did you know that I frequent the bakery...?

Gilbert: Want to know?

(No way... he's not saying I have a spy on me, is he...?)

(...That's plausible and scary.)

Luke: Don't bully her.

Gilbert: Bully? That's harsh. I actually like little rabbit, you know?

Luke: That's what bullying is.

Gilbert: Ahaha, that's true. But I'm genuinely interested in the sandwich.

Gilbert: Is that a no?

Emma: ...I'll do my best.

Gilbert: Thank you.

Luke: You really only bring trouble, don't you?

Luke: Emma, let's go.

Perhaps noticing my stiff expression, Luke took my hand and started walking.

His large, dependable hand brought a sense of relief before any embarrassment.

Gilbert: See you later, you two.

Luke: ––...!

At his casual words, Luke, who hadn't reacted to anything until then, slightly trembled his fingers.

(...Is it my imagination?)

Luke didn't say anything, and just pulled my hand to led me into town.

-

---...Ten years ago, in Obsidian.

Gilbert: Luke, how do you feel about starting military school today?

Luke: Huh? I don't really feel... anything.

Gilbert: You can't be feeling "nothing." An exciting youth awaits you!

Luke: There's no such thing at a military training facility.

Gilbert: Aww.

Luke: But hey, thanks. ...For arranging for me to attend.

Gilbert: You're welcome. I hope you can learn what you desire...

Luke: .............

Gilbert: But before that, let's make one promise.

Luke: A promise?

Gilbert: As long as you keep this promise, I'll always be on your side.

Luke: ...Is it that important of a promise?

Gilbert: Yes. Precisely because you'll have more opportunities to go out, it's a promise you must never break.

Luke: What is it?

Gilbert: When I send you off with "see you later," you must always come back and say "I'm home."

Luke: Huh?

Gilbert: If you don't say "I'm home," I'll consider it a betrayal and kill you.

Luke: The price is too high.

Gilbert: That's how important it is. Conversely, if I don't welcome you with "welcome home," you can kill me.

Luke: ...That's stupid.

Gilbert: But I'm serious.

Gilbert: Well then, Luke. See you later.

-

Gilbert: Ah, there you are. Welcome home, Luke.

Luke: You... were you waiting here the whole time for me to come back?

Gilbert: We made a promise, didn't we?

Luke: ...Even though you're not a man of leisure.

Gilbert: Being busy isn't an excuse to break a promise. ...Here.

Luke: What are you doing with your arms? Absolutely not.

Gilbert: Oh, have you already forgotten?

Gilbert: When you break the promise—

Luke: We didn't make a promise to hug.

Gilbert: You're so shy, Luke.

Luke: ...Anyone would hate that.

Gilbert: So, come on?

Luke: ...Something about...

Luke: It's hard to say when you're being rushed.

Gilbert: Are you sure? It's a choice between life and death.

Luke: Why do I have to risk my life for something so stupid?

Gilbert: It's not stupid. It's just that there was someone who didn't keep this promise once.

Gilbert: It was very unpleasant. So unpleasant that I almost killed everyone in the castle.

Luke: ..............

Gilbert: You won't betray me, will you, Luke...?

Luke: Alright, alright. I understand there are circumstances.

Luke: Fine, I'll say it.

Luke: .............

Gilbert: To think you'd be so shy about something like this, how youthful.

Luke: Shut up—it's a phrase I rarely say!

Luke: ……………… I'm home.

*back to present day*

Emma: Mmm, that was fun! I was worried when Prince Gilbert found us, but...

Emma: Luke, you're a genius at entertaining people.

Luke: Really?

Eating delicious food with Luke in town, going around shops, buying souvenirs, the casual time we spent together after so long had lifted the suffocating feeling from my chest.

(Luke is so considerate, he really spoiled me.)

Luke: Well, I'm glad you haven't forgotten how to smile.

Emma: Huh?

Luke: Lately, you've been pretty stressed because of him, right?

Luke: Let's ditch him again and go on a date.

(...He did it for me. Luke is really kind.)

Emma: Thank you. I'm looking forward to it.

???: But it's not good to come home so late.

(Oh...)

Luke: Ugh, were you waiting for us?

With the distinct sound of his cane, Prince Gilbert emerged from the darkness.

Gilbert: I have to receive my souvenir, don't I?

Gilbert: Besides, promises must be kept.

(Promises?)

Gilbert: Welcome home.

Luke: ...............

Luke, with a bitter look on his face, suddenly turned away from Prince Gilbert.

Gilbert: Huh? That's strange. Did you not hear me?

Luke: ...Are you still doing that?

Gilbert: Ahaha, complaining to a state guest?

Gilbert: Little rabbit, what do you say when someone says "welcome home"?

Emma: I... I'm home... I've returned?

Gilbert: Yes, you're a good girl.

(Is that something to be so happy about...?)

Gilbert: Little rabbit can do it, but Luke can't? You wouldn't say that, would you?

(Luke... he looks embarrassed when you look closely.)

(Maybe he's not used to saying it.)

Luke: ––...Home.

Gilbert: Oh dear, the Rhodolite castle might be stained with blood.

Luke: ...I said "I'm home," okay!

Luke: Emma, let's just ignore him. He's annoying.

Emma: That's a bit—wait, Luke, I haven't given Prince Gilbert his souvenir yet...!

Before I could hand over the sandwich, Luke, just like in the morning, pulled my hand and started walking.

I turned around anxiously towards Prince Gilbert, and contrary to my expectations, he was waving with a cheerful smile.

Gilbert: Hehe, well done.

.

.

.

Part 2

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[unintentionalseductress]

Kinktober request

23 (Degradation) with GN!R making a bet that they can beat Gojo in some spar, and that if they lose then Gojo can do whatever he wants with them.

Gojo accepts, wins, then degrades R while roughly throatfucking R with his huge cock.

Hello again! Since blowjob was another kink on the list, this was written with only the first part in mind.

Warnings: rough sex, derogatory name-calling

Degradation

--------

You should have known better before making this bet. Now you're suffering at the hands of Gojo who had no problem in turning into a fucking sadist now that he had free rein. The vibrator was snugly placed on a sensitive pleasure spot and you were writhing from its effects.

"Thought you were stronger than me huh you pathetic little whiner?" Satoru smirks down at your lowered position, on your knees at his feet. "I think you need to be taught a lesson so that you never make that assumption again."

He roughly grabs your hair and jerks your chin up. "Look at me. I want to watch how desperate you get as you get closer to orgasm."

You let out a pathetic whine like an injured dog as the vibrator brings you to a peak and you fall off the edge gasping, waves of pleasure wracking your body. Impressively, you manage to keep looking into Satoru's eyes while you climax despite how embarrassed it makes you feel. Your arousal fluids drip onto the floor from your spasming body. When the last dregs of pleasure wash away you look at him with imploring eyes hoping he'll remove the vibrator.

"Did I give you permission to cum?" Satoru asks in a dangerously low voice and you feel a thrill of fear and arousal spread through you. He clicks the vibrator off with the press of a button then strikes your ass, making you cry out. A red impression of his hand is visible on your round cheek.

"You're such a dumb whore, unable to follow simple instructions. And you've made such a mess on the floor." He gazes at the small puddle that had formed from your climax, then flips you over onto your back.

"And now you're a cum mop, and you're going to clean up the mess you made." He drags your body across the fluid, and you feel your back slicken as you pass over it. Once he's satisfied, Satoru leaves on the floor covered in your own juices and starts the vibrator again. You shriek at the high intensity, body being pushed into overstimulation.

You knew you wouldn't last long and tears form in your eyes. "Master...please..."

"Please what you useless slut?"

"Please let me cum..." You struggle against the toy trying not to cum before he gave you permission.

"Oh, the dumb little cunt knows how to ask for permission! Very good!" Satoru claps sarcastically and your body tenses, quivering from the effort of holding in your orgasm.

"Fine, go ahead and cum. It's the only thing you're good for anyway," Satoru taunts, and you take a breath before letting out a shuddering cry you orgasm again, your whole body feeling like it's one oversensitized ball of nerves.

You sigh in relief as the toy is turned off again, but gulp as Satoru's shoes come in line of your vision.

"We're not done yet. We're going to keep going until all of your holes are thoroughly used to ensure my pleasure and satisfaction."

[gallusgalluss]

please unleash your inspekta thoughts

your art is amazing i cant stop looking at it

i hope you have a happy new year!!

happy new year anon n thank you :]!!!!

also ur so evil ur letting me unleash my Inspekta thoughts,,,,how cruel how cruel

im going full yapper mode + there's spoilers so Watch Out

I like Inspekta, he's a little freak and a really interesting character to think about. While, for me, the twist with him wasn't totally a surprise (I did Not trust his cuteness the second i saw him lmao), I REALLY liked the way his character progressed throughout the game. He's your buddy! He's your pal! Don't worry about all these posters and weird plushies and standees and propaganda of him everywhere and how he keeps being called “the one and only god”, it's Fine it's Fine! He's sillay :D!!!

I'm generally just obsessed with characters who are put into leadership positions who absolutely Should Not have that amount of power over people, and I think Inspekta's a perfect example of that type of thing for me.

He had his own fears, loneliness, and jealousy cloud his judgment and that resulted in some Really Fucked Up Stuff. As a mortal he wanted to be special in the eyes of the public, so he gained enough popularity to get elected to be a god! Yay! But now he's scared of being forgotten and there's a new possible god being elected, wuh oh! Time to ruin Literally Everything because what's the easiest way to be remembered, worshiped, and loved by all if there's no more competition for your rule? Empty heavens, baby!!! Let's bring in an apocalypse!!! Yay!!!!!

Bro's fucked up and I like that.

I love how despite it all he still tries this whole Cute Buddy Friend act, even at the end with this Worm Form. Cause he KNOWS the other gods would trust and believe him and the lies he's spread about King's shocking letters, cause why wouldn't they? He's just a silly lil cutie pie! They all trust him! He's the God of Leadership! How could a Leader lead others astray? And he knows the Bizzyboys will follow him as well since he's been leading them pre-godhood for several years. He's a role model to them all, starting from nothing and now he's a god! He's just so trustworthy and sweet and will totally save the day!

Also I just wanted to include this somewhere. I really like this section (after Chapter 3, I think???)

He has this brief moment of vulnerability/sincerity/something that made him drop his “Cutesy Voice”. Like aside from this scene, near the end of chapter 5, and i Think a few parts i'm 100% forgetting, I don't think we actually see this more contemplative n genuine side of Inspekta.

He does instantly goes into gloating about himself and how he's Clearly the MOST IMPORTANT GOD OF ALL (before correcting himself to include the other gods, of course, of course).

Like if he didn't have that Ego-the-size-of-the-galaxy + Saddest Scaredest Loneliest Most Jealous Withdrawn Loser combo, all he had to do was to just Talk To People. He could've Talked to people about his Fears and Insecurities. Even the other gods; after all he's done, were still there for him! Like “Hey dude this is fucked up, we all already love you dummy, you can talk to us ya know you're allowed to feel scared!”

He's just the cutest most moe creature with soooo many issues and problems he needed to figure out.

NOW WITH HECTOR

Most of my Inspekta Thoughts can just be applied to him but slightly modified. I think it's interesting how he chose to go back to being a regular person, it makes sense cause he's like Aware of the amount of damage he's done/could've done. While he certainly won't be forgotten after Everything he's done, he isn't going to be as Grand and Powerful as he wished to be.

He's just a guy in his 50s who's trying to get over his God Complex of 33 years and also attempt to gain back the trust and respect of the Grove’s people. He's definitely going to be bearing the weight of what he's done for the rest of his life probably, but it IS interesting thinking about what he'd do to actually improve himself now, learn how to be a person again n such.

He’s also a sad miserable booboo beast of a man and i think him suffering in anguish is awesome!!!!!!! yay!!!!

This turned into more a character analysis of some sorts instead of solely my own personal thoughts, whoops. Anyways i think his designs, all 3 of em are really fun to draw. He's cute n stretchy and marketable, as all gods should be.

so ya basically inspekta/hector sucks, i hate him, and we should kill him with hammers. now. thank you 💖💖💖

[cloudybarnes]

Private Encounters

Pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x reader

Summary: you were tired of Cardan constantly attacking you and your friends. one day, though, Cardan asks to speak with you privately, and no good things could come from the prince of elfhame wanting to speak with you with no one else around

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

"Hurry up, you guys! We're gonna be late again!" Taryn whisper-shouted as you and Jude trailed behind her towards the courtyard.

Usually, you two went alone on your adventures, but Taryn decided she wanted to be spontaneous, too, and wanted to join along. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to have that much fun, and urged you back to class almost as soon as you got there.

"Who cares if we're late?" Jude rolled her eyes. "It's not like anyone would really care."

"Just because they don't like us, doesn't mean I want to draw their attention. Who knows what they'll do." Taryn shifted the picnic basket of food between her hands, nervously. She was always the most cautious of you three; always fearing what they would say or do to you guys.

You scoffed, "Taryn, let's be real. Even if we were there on time and minded our own business, Cardan and his little fanclub would still find some reason to bother us."

Jude chuckled, "he's so insufferable. What I wouldn't do to wipe that idiotic grin off his face."

You laughed, "I'm right there with you. It's like his greatest pleasure is being annoying."

"I don't know." Taryn slows her speed walk to match pace with Jude and I. "I feel like Cardan mostly has it out for you, now, (Y/N)."

You rolled my eyes.

"Oh yeah," Jude agreed. "Ever since we became friends, he's like diverted the hatred for us onto you."

You laughed, "Wow, thanks guys. Who knew being your friend would make a prince despise me."

Jude laughed too. "I don't think it was all our fault. You're human, so he would have hated you anyway."

"That's so reassuring, thanks for that."

Jude smirked, "anytime."

When we finally emerged onto the courtyard where class was taking place, most everyone ignored you, save for the professor.

"Ah," he said, "nice of you three to join us. Please find a seat so we can continue on with our lessons of astronomy."

Taryn bowed her head to keep from looking at anyone. You noticed Jude did not bow her head, but she would not look at the other students.

You, however, must be an idiot to not follow along with them, because your gaze falls straight to Cardan, who is staring back at you with much ferocity.

As the even bigger idiot you are, you do not avert your gaze, but simply glare back at him. To that, and small, devilish grin grows on his face. It almost seems like an invite of this little game you play. He hates you and your friends, goes out of his way to torment you three, and for that, you refuse to back down. Sometimes, you think he likes that you fight him so much.

"(Y/N)," Taryn calls, quietly as to avoid too much attention. She waves you over. Only then do you realize you've been staring at Cardan so long that Jude and Taryn have already set up the blanket and started spreading out the food.

Your cheeks heat as you walk the few feet to where they are sitting. You can hear Cardan snicker as you walk past him and Nicasia.

"What were you thinking!" Taryn scolds as you finally sit down on the blanket. Your professor continues with his lecture, but you don't even bother to pay attention to him.

You shrug, "I'm not really sure. I just can't stand him so much it makes me crazy."

Jude laughs at that. "I'm so glad we're friends, (Y/N). I think I'd go crazy if I didn't have someone else to share my hatred for Cardan with."

You giggle, "well it's a good thing I'm here, then, huh?"

"I don't think anyone is happy you're here."

Looking up from where you're sitting, you see Nicasia and Cardan looming down over you. Seems like the lesson is over as everyone else has abandoned the courtyard.

"Oh, Nicasia, always a pleasure." You rolled your eyes as you stood up. Behind you, you hear the shuffling of Jude standing and pulling Taryn up with here. "To what do we owe you coming over here and bothering us for?"

She smirked, "I have no reason for being near you filthy mortals other than to make sure you stay in your place. You don't belong here. You're frail, and worthless, and someone needs to remind you of that."

You mocked her with a laugh, "is that really all you've got?"

Taryn let out a quiet gasp.

Nicasia narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"

You shrugged. "All I'm saying is you give the same excuse every time you come over here. 'I'm putting you in your place', 'make sure you know what a worthless mortal you are'. Blah, blah, blah. It's very redundant, Nicasia, and quite truthfully, it's just tiresome." You said condescendingly.

The fire is her eyes was hot. Her fists balled at her side as she glared at you.

Now, it's not like you were looking for trouble, or that you wanted anything bad to happen to you or your friends. You just could not stand the way she and Cardan always came over to you and caused problems.

The slap was expected. Your cheek burned as Nicasia's hand left your face. Taryn couldn't hold back the very audible gasp that left her lips. Looking back to your friends, Taryn looked utterly frightened, and Jude looked angrier than you'd ever seen her.

Right as Nicasia was about to slap you again, Cardan interrupted her.

"Nicasia," Cardan warned as he lifted his hand, "that is quite enough."

You scoffed. "Oh, and since when are you ever the peace maker?"

Cardan smirked, "Since Nicasia decided she was going to slap you. I quite like your face the way it is."

All heads turned to Cardan as he said that. Nicasia looked hurt, Taryn looked almost as confused as you felt, and Jude just looked disgusted.

You narrowed my eyes at Cardan, despite your confusion. "What games are you playing at, Greenbriar?"

His eyebrows shot up in delightful surprise. A cheeky smirk playing on his lips. "I have no games, (Y/L/N)." He spat out your last name like it disgusted but also intrigued him.

He looked between Nicasia, Jude and Taryn. "You, leave us. I have a few words for (Y/N)."

Jude and Taryn looked at each other, confused and contemplating if they should leave or not. You stood your ground though.

"I'll be fine, guys. I'll just meet you back at Madoc's, okay?" You tried to reassure them, though you weren't exactly sure what you were getting yourself into. All you knew was that you didn't want Cardan to know he frightened you.

Jude nodded her head. "We won't be far. And Cardan," she turned to him, "if you so much as touch one hair on her head, I will-"

"Oh relax, would you, Jude? Always resolving your issues with murder." Cardan rolled his eyes. "Leave us. Now."

Jude glared at Cardan before turning to you and giving you a reassuring look. Just as quickly, she turned away and pulled Taryn off with her.

"And you," Cardan said as he turned to Nicasia. "I believe I ordered you away, as well."

Nicasia looked shocked. "Me? Why would I need to be sent away? Whatever punishment you have for the way she spoke to me, I want-"

"Leave, Nicasia. I won't ask you again."

Stunned, Nicasia's mouth hung open just slightly as she looked between you and Cardan. With a 'hmph', Nicasia turned on her heel and strutted away, leaving behind just Cardan and you.

The two of you stood there in silence. You gazed up at him, trying to decipher why he could possibly want to speak with you alone. Maybe he wants to kill you. Maybe he's grown tired of this cat and mouse game you have going on.

"What do you want, Cardan?"

He smirked, and took a daring step closer to you. "I just wanted to talk with you. You're... interesting. I find you intriguing to say the least."

You raised my brow in confusion. "You find me intriguing? Now I know you're toying with me. What do you really want, Cardan?"

He scoffed. "Is it that hard for you to admit that I might find you interesting?"

"How interesting could I possibly be? I'm mortal, remember? Can't believe you would forget, not after you and your friends made it your entire personalities to constantly remind me of my mortality and how worthless you believe me to be."

Cardan's smirk only grew. "You are quite right. You're mortal. Mortals by nature are fragile, slow, susceptible to our tricks, and yet you seem to be quite the opposite."

Your eyebrows shot up, completely shocked by this sort-of compliment you just received from the Prince of Elfhame.

Cardan continued before you could even get a word out. "I dislike mortals quite a bit. I think they are weak. They have little skill that is worth anything, and they are often succumbed to the nature of our people. You, however, are quite different, (Y/N)."

He took a tender step closer to you. Your breath was caught in your throat. Cardan had never shown any type of interest in you. You thought he'd never actually shown anything other than disgust towards you, but maybe you were wrong.

Maybe all of those teasing smirks and cruel comments were him testing you, trying to figure out just how far he could push you.

"You've stood up to me. You've been given every chance to back down. I've seen how far you are willing to go to defend yourself and those little friends of yours. I find it admirable in a way."

You force out a laugh. "You find it admirable? Everything you consider so 'strong' and 'admirable' about me is what I've had to do to survive this place. You've done nothing but make living here just that much harder than it already is for mortals."

You strode closer to Cardan, persistence on your face. His eyes widened slightly, but the daring smirk never faltered from his lips.

Just as you two were chest to chest, you spoke, "answer now, Cardan, what is it you really wanted to tell me?"

"I've already told you, (Y/N). I think you're admirable. I think you're intriguing. I think there is something about you that keeps drawing me in. Something so pulling, it's frustrating how much I think of you."

No words left your mouth. How could they when your jaw laid open the way it was.

Cardan chuckled. "Now, another reason I wanted you here. I must ask: I know you mortals can lie, something we folk can not do, but how are you so good at pretending?"

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Pretending?"

Cardan's smirk only grew, "pretending you aren't in love with me, that is."

The world had stopped. It felt like your entire world had shattered. This was quite possibly the last thing you thought Cardan would get you alone for.

Anyone with eyes could see that Cardan Greenbriar was gorgeous. All of his kind were gorgeous, but he had exceptional beauty. Beside that, you couldn't find one characteristic about him that you had liked. Sure, maybe he stopped Nicasia from hurting you further than she would have. And by the way Jude recalled his cruelty before they met you, it seemed to have subsided quite a bit since you met him. That still doesn't change the fact that he is cruel, and has been for a long time.

"Cat got your tongue?"

You shook your head clear from your thoughts. "No. Just confused how you could possibly think I would be in love with you."

"You want to know how I know you're in love with me, despite what you might believe?" Cardan grinned and closed the already small space between you two. "Because I know how insufferable you find me. I know how I get under your skin, how you lay awake thinking of how much you hate me. I know this because I feel the same towards you, and despite my feelings of irritation with you, I still find myself completely infatuated by you."

"You are?" You questioned, voice so quiet you might barely have heard it, but Cardan sure did.

He grinned. "Oh, yes. I have been infatuated with you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I wasn't lying earlier when I told Nicasia I'd like her to leave your face the way it is. I think you are pretty for a mortal. You give off this glow and iridescence. You are unlike any other mortal I've come across. The way you've kept me up at night, the way I am excited to see you just to have our little spat had me confused for the longest time. Eventually, I just couldn't take it anymore and I’ve decided to act on it."

You couldn't take it anymore. Everything Cardan said resonated so deeply with you. Somehow he knew exactly how you felt. The way you hated him, the way you were angry with yourself when you thought of him so often, everything he said he felt is exactly what you were going through as well.

You decided, if Cardan was going to act on his confusing feelings, you would act on yours as well.

Already chest to chest, you reached up and gripped Cardan hair, tight enough to hurt, and kissed him with all of the pent up anger and hatred for him you had.

If Cardan was surprised, he didn't seem it. He gripped onto your waist and kissed you back with so much ferocity it made your knees weak.

It was hot, and it was unlike any kiss you've ever had before. Kissing Cardan was unleashing something so deep inside of you. All of your confused feelings for him wrapped up all into a long-awaited kiss.

Gasping for air, you and Cardan separated, though not fully. While you were no longer kissing, you had yet to pull your fingers from the tangles of his hair, and he had no plans of letting go of his hold on your waist.

"I still hate you," you said breathlessly.

Cardan smiled, he actually smiled and replied, "I think I hate you more."

[dreadsuitsamus]

Will | Vegeta x Reader |

author's note: this is for the always lovely @miss-taura! i hope you're starting to feel better, or that you start getting better quickly!! rest and hydrate 🩷

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: saiyan!reader, illness, mentions of death, mentions of frieza doing frieza things

Anxiety clings to Vegeta's stomach as he marches to your room on the Frieza station— you weren't at dinner tonight. It's unlike you, unlike any Saiyan warrior, and worry nags the Prince to his bones.

Of the Saiyans left, you're certainly his favorite. The bar is low, with your competition being Nappa and the Radish-boy, but you're still quite the cut above them. And your lack of presence is irritating, rude, and above all worth a princely tantrum.

Pounding on your door, his patience is too worn thin to properly wait for an answer. You haven't responded with the half second between his harsh knocks, so obviously he's got every single right to invite himself in. It's dark but his scouter clearly marks your exact position in your bed, and he hears your soft groan as the light from the hall floods in.

"What the hell, 'Geets?" Congestion plagues your sinuses, and a fever leaves you with harsh shivers as you glare at Vegeta with blurry eyes.

Vegeta scoffs and narrows his eyes as he steps further in, kicking the door shut behind him. "More like what the hell is up with you. You skipped dinner."

You cough into your shirt, flopping down pathetically onto your pillow. "I'm not hungry."

"A Saiyan is always hungry." Vegeta's arms cross over his broad chest as he tilts his head— he's not sure if he's ever seen you sick, or anybody else on this ship, for that matter.

A cold trickle of fear suddenly drips down his spine; Frieza certainly would find no use in nursing any of his army back to health, and absolutely wouldn't tolerate a particular bug spreading amongst the force.

He can't lose you like this.

Too tired to argue with him, you wave a hand in Vegeta's general direction. "Leave me be, 'Geets."

Vegeta nearly growls— you're far too uncaring. Do you have a death wish? He storms out of the room and you're far too ill to wonder what's gotten into him before another terrible coughing fit assaults you again.

Your consciousness fades in and out, though the next time you come to for longer than mere seconds, it's at Vegeta's shaking of your shoulder. His touch isn't particularly gentle, the rare occurrence never really is, but you can feel his effort of holding back. "Mmm…?"

"Sit up and eat, and take this too." A platter from the dining hall sits on the nightstand beside your bed, and a small caplet is flicked your way.

"Where did you find medicine?" Throat scratchy and burning at even breathing, a soft cough follows your question.

"It matters not. Just use it."

So he broke an international law somewhere, got it.

Your legs rub together unconsciously, begging the resulting friction for warmth. A Saiyan rarely feels so chilled, but it's as if you're iced to your very bones. Vegeta's jaw ticks and he doesn't put much thought into the why before he's stripped off a glove and pressed the back of his rarely-revealed hand against your forehead. His memories of his mother are frighteningly fading, but that is one of the few that holds strong and he can clearly remember of his late mother. He was young and felt awful for perhaps the first time in his life, and her gentle hand measuring his fever did wonders as a cure compared to all the bedrest and tonics.

Your watery eyes meet with Vegeta's as he moves to touch each cheek, his knuckles dragging along your skin and bumping over your nose. Eyes guarded, he turns his head and pulls back his palm. "You're running a fever. Eat now, and take the medicine. You're to be cured by tomorrow, understand?"

This motherfucker is giving my illness orders!

Opting for a dumb nod, your attention focuses on what he's brought you. Nothing too capable of potentially upsetting your stomach, it's easy to devour even with your fatigue crawling back by the second and the shivering from your fever slowly icing you more and more. You can hardly even notice Vegeta's too-quiet demeanor as he stares a hole into the carpeted floor, though to not see such a stoic side of the rather bratty, barbarous man that typically wears a smile of evil would be impossible.

"Done." Voice hardly capable of more than a whisper now, you set the plate aside and, large pill laid out on your tongue, finish off the first of the gallons of water he's thoughtfully provided you.

"Rest." His order is swift and gruff as he turns to leave, but your voice, quiet and unsure, calls for him to linger just a bit longer.

"T-Thank you, V-Vegeta." The tremors of your body are harsh enough to make your teeth audibly clash together, and the thin blanket wrapped around you couldn't possibly be enough to dispel this fever.

Breaking the fever will allow the medicine to work, and a little sigh pulls from his lips. You certainly always manage to break down a barrier he places, and usually it's fully unintentional and unknowing. But he cannot lose the last woman in his life, the last of the Saiyan race, and that's what has him stripping to his underwear and climbing into bed with you.

"'Geets…"

"Speak not a word further. Rest." He grumbles and unravels your wrapped form, inserting himself under the blanket with you. The heat radiating from him nearly makes your head spin as you grab the Prince's body despite how unbecoming this all is. The touch of his body isn't exactly foreign, though it certainly is in the manner of comfort rather than the training you've always known.

Vegeta's hold is tight. It's his duty as your Prince to keep you alive, though the warming of his cheeks when he gets a glimpse of your sleeping face suggests to himself it may not be as noble as he wishes.

[dimonds456]

Billford and Abuse: An Analysis

Honestly, as someone who ships both Billford and Fiddauthor, the thing I like about the toxic yaoi ship is the fact that it IS toxic. Like, the jokes are great, but its depiction of abuse is so, like... genuine. Without getting personal, I've been in a really fucking bad toxic (platonic) relationship before, and Billford deadass helped me come to terms with it.

Cuz here's the thing: most fictional abusive relationships just start with the abuse itself. It shows the victim and the perpetrator at the height (or almost at the height) of the abuse, and we see as either one of them is destroyed by it or the victim becomes free. But Billford actually shows the WHOLE timeline.

Something that bothers me about a lot of fictional abuse reps is the fact that you cannot sympathize with the victim aside from "aw that's horrible :(". Cuz it just starts AT the abuse. We don't see how they got there or what's causing the victim to stay. We just know they need to escape.

But with Billford, we see EVERYTHING. How it started out as something Ford genuinely loved, seeing Bill as a friend and someone he could trust, how it made him feel better because he was actually making progress on his research and he wasn't lonely anymore.

To Ford during those early days, Bill was the highlight of his time in Gravity Falls. We can follow his train of thought exactly to where he let Bill possess him with basically no strings attached (pun intended).

That's what makes it all the more devastating. Bill isolated Ford from everyone. He sabotaged his friendship with Fiddleford by planting that seed of doubt in the engineer and pulling Ford further and further into his plans. Then the thing with the portal happened and Ford had NOWHERE to go. Plus, Bill kept trying to get Ford to stop thinking about Stan, to move on and let him rot. So he kept planting seeds of doubt in his own brother as well, causing Ford to further and further slip away.

Then Ford confronts Bill. And the monster is unleashed.

Once Bill realizes he's lost control of Ford's devotion and the illusion has shattered, Bill just LEANS into it. In order to take control back, he started tormenting Ford and just being horrible to him, to try and make him fall in line. Love and fear ARE right next to each other in the brain, after all. And there's NOTHING Ford can do but just fall further and further into paranoia.

Bill demonstrates many real-world abusive/manipulative tactics on Ford, the big one being isolation, since that allows the rest of the everything to even happen, but the way he turns Ford against LITERALLY EVERYONE using paranoia is really true to real life.

Now obviously your toxic boyfriend cannot possess random strangers irl. But you know what he CAN do? Start spreading rumors behind your back. Stalk you. Harass you. Make you feel unsafe everywhere except home (which isn't safe either, but it's better than the outside world). He can spend your money or break your things. Slash your tires. In Ford's case, LITERALLY abusing his body. There's the sticky notes, the threats, the roof incident, all of it just piling one atop the other.

I cannot imagine how fucking terrified Ford must have been to finally send that postcard to Stanley. He was at a point where he assumed Stan would hate him, or at the very least wouldn't respond so why even bother, and he'd just gotten the "steal your eyes" threat. He was out of options, and was absolutely sure he was putting Stan in danger by getting him involved (another irl abuse thing that happens).

He was scared to reach out for help because 1) he didn't want others getting hurt (like Fidds had), 2) he was ashamed he'd let this happen, and 3) he, on some level, felt like he deserved this.

Justified? To a paranoid, scared, abused, irrational brain: Absolutely. In reality? Never. But HE'D built that portal. HE'D allowed Bill to possess his body basically freely. HE'D basically helped start the apocalypse. And that shame would have lead to SO much self-hatred and despair.

His reaching out to Stan was his last resort, his only way out. THAT'S what intrigues me about the ship so much.

I do not want them to make up and get back together. They're horrible for each other. But I do enjoy exploring the dynamic of it, fully seeing the cycle and how it happens, and seeing a whole new side to Ford that we only caught a glimpse of in the show and Journal 3. Plus Bill but his side is more comedic and sad to me I do not take him seriously FSDGHJ

The jokes are great and I love it here, but if I ever write a fic or draw art for these two it's going to be toxic as hell man. And not in the fun way fgsjd

[writingwisterias]

Day 22: Voyeurism

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Room sharing Masterlist Dedicated to Two ILY

The moonlight filtered through the cracks of the blinds of the hotel room. Your twin beds were in the middle of the room, the TV off to the side and a bathroom just by the entrance. Smaller than what you would have picked, you definitely wouldn't be sharing with Leon if they weren’t so tight with the accommodation budget. There was nothing wrong with the man, you admired his work ethic and had grown to admire him in many ways. The two of you worked well as partners; your fighting and problem-solving, methods complimented each other well enough that you barely failed a mission that you were assigned to together. 

You were facing his bed, something you never normally did for fear of opening your eyes and seeing him looking back. It had happened one too many times, you could feel the phantom blush form from the last time. However, tonight he was on his back, his hair falling over his eyes, mouth parted slightly. You could very faintly hear the breaths as they left his lips. You had grown a crush on your partner - it was difficult for that to happen with how attractive and caring he was.

He looked so peaceful like this, dreaming whatever he was dreaming. Nothing disturbing him. Until you heard it. The shuffle of the duvet as he moved—the slick sounds of something wet. Your eyes scanned his form, tucking the duvet under your chin to give yourself more range. There it was, the subtle movement lower down. It was almost like he was itching his thigh…maybe that's what he was doing. It didn’t explain the wet sounds though. 

He threw the duvet off next - maybe he was just sweaty. Your brain came up with any and every excuse you could think of until the moon hit the tip of his cock. You felt your throat tighten at the sight of it. His hand was gripped tightly around the base, squeezing it gently as his cock hardened. You watched it rise out of its slumber like an animal; Leon’s eyes were now open as he watched what he was doing. He paused his movements, listening to the sound of your breathing in case he was loud and woke you up. His eyes flicked over to your form for just a second and sighing in relief when he noticed your body hadn’t moved since the last time he checked. 

His hand worked slowly up and down his erection. Your eyes followed the movement like you were watching a tennis game. Leon’s mind was filled with images of you, unable to get the thought of you underneath him out of his dreams. During your latest mission you were trapped together, bodies pressed against each other so close your breath mingled. Your hands were pressed against his chest, head tucked safely in his neck as he took advantage of the situation and pulled you closer. He felt bad - doing this whilst you were asleep next to him. Your dreams seemed far more peaceful than his own. That was until he saw your eyes weren’t closed, they were focused on his movements. 

Leon bit his lip as he realised you were watching. His mind wondered if you were soaking your underwear at this sight, his brain refusing to acknowledge that you could be finding this weird. Instead using the fact that you were watching as an opportunity to make it more of a show. After all, you wouldn’t be staring at this so much if you didn’t like it. Your mouth watered as his pre cum appeared, dribbling out of the tip as if he was coaxing it out. You watched his thumb swipe it up to then spread down his cock as lubrication his movements now fluid and relaxed. 

He squeezed the base of it again, cutting off the blood flow just enough to make his tip go fuzzy, the long vein that ran up the sides becoming prominent as it worked harder to supply the cock with blood. His other fingers circled the tip, taking advantage of the sensitive area as it was exposed. You watched as his erection twitched against his tight grip like it was trying to free itself slightly. Leon’s groans grew louder now he knew you were watching, no longer having the fear of waking you up. The cum dribbled down his length like candle wax, the mixture creating a small puddle at the base. God, you wanted to go over there and lick it up, suck him until he was completely dry but then he would know you were awake. So instead you tucked yourself in further now shielding the lower half of your face with the duvet. 

You almost whined when his hand pulled away, now falling onto the mattress as he pushed himself to sit against the wall his bed was pressed against. He was facing you now, his legs dangling off the edge. His cock was right in your eyeliner now, making sure to angle it just right so that you got all of the action. The slow pump of his hand, his weeping tip. 

His arms flexed with his movements, his abs as well - you hadn’t noticed he went to bed shirtless today. Your hand slipped down in between your legs, the waistband of your underwear tight over your wrist as you began to circle your clit matching his pace. Despite how sneaky you were in the darkness he noticed. His eyes darkened as you began to rub yourself, occasionally gathering arousal from your entrance to lubricate the action much like Leon did. 

His cock glowed in the moonlight now it was covered in his cum. His head looked so sensitive every time he swiped over it. Leon threw his head back against the wall, his eyes shut tightly as he felt his ball tighten. He looked so majestic, his cock look so beautiful highlighted like this. A low groan escaped his lips as his cum began to pump through his cock, the largest vein pulsing as it shot out of that small slit in his tip. You watched it eagerly, your eyes beginning to water from how long it had been since you blinked. Your teeth clenched against the duvet as you came all over your fingers, your underwear now soaked as it caught all of the arousals that leaked out of it. 

His post-orgasm state was angelic, his thighs coated in his cum. The thick ropes spread out over the muscles. His body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looked like he was glowing. 

Your breath faltered when he opened his eyes, finally meeting your own with a teasing glare. “Liked the show, princess?”

Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 8

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: some mentions of violence and sexual content, Geta is still a jerk (he has a long way to go!)

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Geta overslept. He didn't wake until the sun baked the hut into an oven and the heat jolted him out of bed.

The front room was empty. Daphne was nowhere to be seen. She certainly wasn't in the hut, and she wasn't in the garden. Not a breeze stirred outside. The goats were lying down in the shade of the laurel trees, too lethargic even to sneak some bites of the herbs spread out on a clean cloth nearby to dry in the sun. The only things still moving were the bees, busily moving amongst the flowers, oblivious to the heat. The donkey was gone from his usual spot. Had Daphne gone to the village then? But she had just made her rounds the other day... She was probably avoiding him out of shyness. And who wouldn't be shy after a night like that?

His breakfast was on the table as usual, and as he ate, he recalled the night with a smug sense of triumph. So he'd brought her to her knees after all. Or, rather, to her back. And he would have her on her knees before long, he decided, feeling an echo of the fire from the previous night stirring in his loins again.

It wasn't that Daphne was particularly good at bed-sport. He'd had some camp followers in Britannia and Germania that were much better, and as for the whores of the provinces on his travels, especially in Alexandria, well... they could do things that made one's eyes water just to think about. But it was the way she'd come to him, so timid and yet so bold. Oh, he'd had plenty of women who came to him willingly enough, but they had always been so confident in their skills as seductresses. There was something rather sweet in Daphne's gracelessness. It was as if she had been so eager to give herself to him that she didn't care how she did it. It flattered him.

If he was perfectly honest with himself, he would admit that he wouldn't have had the courage to approach her had she not come to him first. But she had. She was just a woman, after all. Under all that lean flesh and hard bones and dour expressions, she was just as soft and warm as any of them. All his fears and doubts about her, thinking of her as a goddess? Nonsense. It was simply the shock of seeing a naked woman again after so long. That and the beauty of the moonlit night had overthrown his senses, it was all.

By Jupiter, but it felt good to lie with a woman again after all these months. It felt good to know his injuries had not robbed him completely of his strength. True, she had left the room in a bit of a huff afterward, when he refused her kiss. But he had never allowed anyone to kiss him, nor had he ever kissed anyone, on the mouth or anywhere else on the body, for that matter. The mouth is noble and sacred, used for talking, commanding, and praying, and so it must be pure and immaculate. In Rome, he had often scoffed at the senators' habit of greeting each other with a kiss. Effete, conniving lot! He much preferred a soldier's straightforward way of greeting, by clasping each other's hand. You greet a person and get the measure of him at the same time.

Geta did some light exercises until it got too hot to move. Daphne didn't come back at lunchtime. He found some cheese and olives and ate them with the last of the bread. It was too hot in the bedroom with its tiny window, so he collapsed on the cot and cooled himself with a fan. The pillow smelled of soapwort, and when he caught himself nuzzling it, he frowned in irritation and flung it away. If the woman didn't see it fit to tell him where she'd gone, then he certainly wouldn't moon after her like some lovesick calf.

When she didn't come back at sunset, his irritation turned to concern. Had there been an emergency in the village? No, he would've heard the bell then. Had she had another run-in with her father?

Geta went out to the top of the path, peering into the twilight. Half of him wanted to look for her, while the other half hesitated, afraid of being seen in the village, afraid of being lost amongst the hills. But if she didn't come back by the next day, he decided, he would have to risk it.

Just as he thought this, a soft bray sounded amongst the rock, and a moment later, Daphne's familiar figure appeared on the path, clad in her usual dark stole, leading the donkey with one hand.

The sight of her sent a great relief through him, and he almost ran down the path to meet her, only he stopped himself in time. It would not do to let her know how much he'd thought of her, how much he'd longed for her. He turned on his heel and returned to the hut, hoping she had not seen him. And thus, when Daphne came in, he was sitting at the table idly examining her jars of herbs and potions, looking for all the world like he'd just had a relaxing day by himself.

"There you are," he said with what he hoped was a cool, uninterested air.

"Are you having trouble with your bowel movements?" Daphne asked.

"What?"

She nodded at the jar he was holding. "That's for softening stools."

Geta reddened and dropped the jar on the table. "I wasn't looking at the jar," he stammered. "I was appraising your penmanship. You still need a lot of practice."

But Daphne was no longer listening. After a quick, frowning glance at him, she unwound her stole and hung it up. He gulped. Underneath she was wearing only a short, sleeveless tunic, loosely belted about her waist. Give her a bow and quiver, and she could pass for the hunting Diana.

No. First Aurora, then Luna, and now Diana? He must stop thinking of her as a goddess. She was nothing. Just a peasant woman.

"You've been to the village?" he asked, for want of something to say.

"Yes. Sorry I'm so late, but I brought dinner."

She unpacked her basket, which contained bread, some grilled meat, and juicy figs, and they sat down to eat. The food was good—it was the first time Geta had had meat and fresh fruits since he came here—but the atmosphere was tense. Their night together stood between them like some enormous thing. It remained lurking for now, but any mention of it would make it spring to life, sucking up the light and air in the room, like a spirit that only came into being when its name was spoken. Neither of them spoke. A heavy silence hung over them.

Several times Geta caught Daphne glancing at him, not with that searching look she'd given him by the cistern, but with sadness and longing. When their eyes met, she quickly looked away again, her cheeks flushed with more than just the heat. He thought of her the night before, not looking at him, her body fluttering under his hands as she guided him to take her clothes off. He thought of her staying away for a whole day, only to come back with a feast—or as close to a feast as she could—for him, and he grinned to himself. She's feeling shy, that's all.

After dinner, Daphne cleared away the plates and brought in the herbs, now as dried as straw. She stood at the table and sorted through them, some to be grounded into decoctions and brews, others tied into bundles. Seated at the doorway of the bedroom, Geta watched her, feasting his eyes on her elegant arms, round shoulders, and shapely calves.

"Come to bed," he called to her. He had quite forgotten his resolve to appear cool and uninterested. He was sure now that Daphne wanted him and was only too shy to act upon it. That husband of hers had died a long time ago; Geta would've gladly bet that he had been an oafish farm boy, unable to give her the true pleasure of marital bliss. Well, Geta was not well versed in marital bliss either, but he knew pleasure, at least his own. He could show her...

"You go to bed," she said without turning around. "I'm busy."

She was the one that sounded cool and uninterested, and doubt crept into his mind. She had been a widow for eight years, and she lived alone, with no male relatives to protect her. Could it be that he had not been the first man since her husband to share her bed? He banished the idea. The way she'd moved the night before wasn't like a woman who had had a lot of experiences. And even if she'd had other lovers, none of them were here, were they? He was.

"I mean, come to bed with me," he said.

"I need to finish up here. And you need your rest."

It wasn't exactly a rejection. She lifted her arm to hang the herbs on the hooks dangling from the rafters. The short hem of the tunic rose, showing a glimpse of her thighs, and he thought he would go mad with want. He got up and walked across the room, slowly, for he was still prone to shortness of breath, until he came up behind her. "Come to bed," he said again. 

She bent over the herbs, patently ignoring him. He reached out and ran the back of his fingers over her arm, his touch light as a feather. Her breath hitched, but she didn't move away. Emboldened, he moved closer, brushed away the tendrils of hair on the nape of her neck, and pressed his nose there. Her very skin seemed to be permeated with the fragrance of soapwort, along with the sweetness of honey and the warm smell of herbs and sunshine, and he breathed in deeply, letting her scent fill his nose until he became quite giddy with it.

Daphne stood still. From the heaving of her shoulders, he could feel her breath coming out in slow, shaky puffs. He moved even closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him, so she could feel how much he wanted her. She leaned back, so his face fitted perfectly into the crook between her neck and her shoulder, and let out a sigh.

When he said "Come to bed" for the third time, she finally turned around to face him.

"Are you married?" she asked.

The question took him by surprise. "Would you not come to bed with me if I am?" he asked.

"Of course."

"That didn't stop you last night," he pointed out.

She blushed a little, looking for a moment so sweet and maidenly that it took all of Geta's willpower not to take her there and then. "That was different," she said.

"How?"

"I didn't know then. I didn't think to ask. I'm asking you now."

"You are aware that I could very well lie to you and you wouldn't know." As I'm already lying to you, he thought.

"Yes. But this gives you a chance to tell the truth. If you did lie, it would be both to me and to your wife. I wouldn't be your knowing accomplice."

Her reasoning was odd, but he couldn't deny that it made a certain amount of sense. And either way, he wouldn't have to lie to her.

"No," he said, relieved to be telling the plain truth for once. "I'm not married."

There had been plans and talks of marriage. But he hadn't paid attention to any of the terrified young girls offered up to him. Though he knew that having an heir would help to secure his throne, he'd been too busy sowing his wild oats, not wanting to be tied up to a wife just yet. And even if he'd had a wife and child, there was no guarantee that they would have been safe from his enemies, so why risk it?

Would Daphne be safe once he was found? He shivered and drew her close, trying to banish such thoughts from his head. She put her arms around him. He undid her belt and tugged at the tunic, pulling it over her head. She let him, giggling quietly as the garment got stuck at her elbows, forcing her to wriggle out of it. After tossing the tunic aside, he buried his nose in her neck again. How smooth her skin was, how soft and cool her body was, as it wrapped around him like the water of the stream that had brought him to her, washing away his dark thoughts. Would that she could wash away his crimes as well...

He tried to pick her up, only he was still too weak. His arms slid from her and his legs crumpled. His face burned up, ashamed at his frailty, but Daphne didn't seem to mind. Smiling, she helped him into the back room, where they collapsed onto the bed.

She drew him down to her, seeking his lips. By reflex, he twisted away from her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, full of concern.

"Nothing," he said, tossing his head to get rid of the gentle hand cradling his jaw. "Just don't do that."

She gazed at him, her green eyes appearing dark gray in the dim room, but he could still see the expression in them—there was curiosity there, and sympathy, and something very close to pity as well. It made him squirm. He, the terror of the barbarians, he who had led the army against the Caledonians, the Alemanni, and the Parthians, he who had plundered the entire city of Alexandria, was now squirming under the gaze of a woman, a near-illiterate peasant. He couldn't have that.

"Turn around," he told her.

Daphne frowned. "What?"

"Turn around. Lie on your belly."

Her eyes widened in understanding. "But I wish to look upon your face," she said.

"I don't. Turn around."

She raised an eyebrow at his gruff tone. "No," she said flatly. "I don't like that."

His embarrassment turned to anger. He seized her arm, gripping it tight, which meant as tight as he could, his hands still not as strong as they used to be. "You will turn around," he said through clenched teeth.

"I will not," she said, her voice hard. "I'm not some camp follower for you to order about. If you can't take no for an answer, then forget this." She pushed him away and got out of bed.

"Get back here!" he shouted.

"Or what?" She whirled around to face him, a cold glint of anger in her eyes. "This is my house! I only let you stay here out of the goodness of my heart. If you try to force me or harm me in any way, I can kill you. It would be much easier than saving you, believe me!" Having uttered that threat, she returned to the front room, leaving him unsettled, unsatisfied.

Damn her. Damn her to Tartarus. He jumped from the bed to chase after her, to press her against the rough mud-brick wall of the hut and show her what happened to those who dared to defy him, but his legs got tangled up in the sheets. By the time he went to the door, Daphne was blocking it on the other side by the bench.

"Open this door," he said.

"Go to Hades!" came Daphne's reply, as she dragged a trunk on the bench.

"Damn you, woman! Am I a child to be locked in my room whenever I misbehave?" His father had used that often, but only when Geta had been very small. Once he was grown enough to cease crying and screaming in the dark—though he never really ceased being afraid of it—his father had moved on to other, more effective forms of punishment.

"I will stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one!"

Geta pushed at the door. It budged, though only very little, showing him a sliver of the front room. Daphne was standing there with her knife.

"Get back," she said. "Or I'll gut you like a fish." Her face was cold, and the knife glinted in her hand. He had no doubt she meant what she said.

With an enraged scream, Geta threw himself at the door at the same time that Daphne pushed the bench and the trunk back to their place. The door slammed into him with such a force that it knocked the breath clean out of him, and he went sprawling on the floor.

Panting, he picked himself up. His chest was tight again and cold sweat was breaking out on his forehead. He fell back down on the rough linen sheets, trying to catch his breath, raging at his own helplessness.

***

When he managed to fall asleep, he dreamed of his brother.

It started as the same dream of the fiery Phlegethon, the one that had been haunting him since Martialis's attack. The same faceless yet horrifyingly familiar figure rose from the flames of the river and walked toward him across the black sand, while he was pinned to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away. Then the light from the flames shone on the face, and features coalesced and took shape across the slab of skin. Features that Geta knew well. Those of his brother. Caracalla.

He was no longer the ghostly figure of Geta's fevered nightmares, but Caracalla as he had been in life, with his reddish blonde wig, powdered face, and smirking mouth to show off his gold tooth. There had been a time when Geta had looked like that, too, before he changed his image.

Geta had not dreamed of his brother for some time. Back in Rome, he'd dreamed of Caracalla almost nightly. He'd had to rely on poppy juice to ensure a dreamless sleep, though he hated how heavy and sluggish it made him the next day. While marching with his troops, he had purposefully pushed himself to the point of exhaustion, so that when he collapsed into bed, sweet Morpheus would take him in mere heartbeats, leaving no time for dreaming. Ever since he stayed with Daphne, those dreams had stopped, wiped out by the pain of his injuries and physical fatigue. Perhaps Daphne's questions earlier in the evening had brought the memories back, or perhaps his impotent anger had ignited the old rage. Whatever it was, Caracalla appeared in his dream now.

Suddenly Geta found himself able to move. He sprang at Caracalla. His hands were around Caracalla's throat, thumbs on windpipe, squeezing and crushing until Caracalla's eyes bulged and his face turned purple under all the powder and rouge. Caracalla swatted feebly with his arms, unable to push Geta off—

—then it was no longer Caracalla he was strangling, but their mother, and he wasn't strangling her. She was crying and screaming "Why?" over and over, cursing him, sending all the Furies after him, while snot and tears were running down her face. He knew then, that this was a dream, for she hadn't cried at all when he killed Caracalla. He hadn't allowed her to. No one is allowed to mourn a tyrant.

Yet knowing this was a dream did nothing to stop it. The dream continued. And in the dream, his mother slowly advanced upon him, her arms outstretched, and in them was—

—Caracalla again, his eyes blank, his blood-stained lips distorted in a horrible smile. He was dead, quite dead.

—no, he wasn't dead. Because he was whispering, while still smiling that horrible rictus smile, "How does it feel, brother? To be at the receiving end of a knife?" There was a sharp pain between his ribs, and Geta looked down to find the knife embedded in his torso, and it wasn't Caracalla's dead face looking at him, but the face of Martialis, his murderer, twisted in hatred.

He struck at Martialis. His arms got tangled in something, and he was unable to move. They must have captured him, his enemies, and were now torturing him. He struggled against those invisible bonds with a desperate cry.

"Shh," a voice said in his ears. The bonds tightened around him, but somehow they didn't cut into his skin. They were soft, warm, comforting. "Shh, it's all right," the voice continued, and it was soft and warm and comforting as well. "You're all right. I'm here."

Geta fought through the fog of the nightmare and emerged into the waking world. It was someone's arms around him, a woman's. It was a woman's voice speaking to him. Daphne. It was Daphne. She had gotten into bed with him and was now rocking him against her, trying to quiet him.

"You were having a bad dream," she said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with her hand. Her touch was so natural and so reassuring in that very naturalness, as if this was something she did all the time, and he just wanted to sink into that embrace, to forget everything, including himself. "It's all right now."

Her touch cleared the last of the fog from his mind, and he went cold with fear. Had he said something in his dream, something damning, something that gave her a hint of his true identity? No, her manner didn't indicate anything of the sort. Still, he couldn't risk it.

"Leave me," he said, his voice sounding rough and strange even to his own ears. Her arms around him stiffened, but she didn't move. "Go!" he said again, raising his voice.

Without another word, she left the bed and the room, closing the door behind her, leaving only a memory of her soft, cool hand like soothing water over his fevered brow.

Alone again in the dark room, Geta came to a decision. This would not do. It was one thing to rely on Daphne to heal his body; he could even accept relying on her for his sexual needs. But relying on her to soothe his soul, to put his heart into her hands as he'd almost done, was too dangerous. It distracted him. Why, he'd hardly thought about his plan for revenge at all that day, so preoccupied he'd been with her. Before, he'd had no choice but to stay, having been on death's door, but now that he was well—or almost well again—there was no reason to remain. It was time for him to leave.

Chapter 9

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[positively-mine]

Come back to me

your return from styx gives Ace the final push he needed

tags: gn!reader, established crush on reader, spoilers: book 6, ch 82 and touchy ace

A/n: stayed true to my word this time 🫡 how ace responds to mc and grim returning tickled something in me so I needed to write a long post abt it :)

lmk if there's any mistakes!

"y/n! Griiim!" The Adeuce duo speeding down the field to where everyone's standing.

"Heya Ace! Deuce!" Grim responds happily from your arms.

You too acknowledge their arrival, "Hey guys, we're back!"

"DON'T "HEY GUYS" ME, YOU ABSOLUTE BLOCKHEAD." Ace screamed while barreling towards you.

He showed no sign of stopping and collided into you. Both you and Ace tumbled onto the field, and Grim flying out of your hands and onto the field beside you. Ace ended up straddling you, with his hands placed at the back of your head and back to prevent you from getting hurt.

Opening your mouth, ready to scold him when he bonks you and Grim hard on your heads.

"OW! Why'd you smack me too?!" Grim yelps beside you.

You clutched your head as well, groaning in pain.

"Shaddup! Be grateful I'm lettin you off easy!" He gets up, and takes your hands to pull you up as well.

Despite Ace's rather harsh treatment, there was concern in his eyes.

"Huh?!" Grim pipes up from beside you.

Deuce walks up to you and gives you a one over before he begins talking, "When we woke up, everyone was freaking out about you, Rook and Epel being gone."

Mumbling, Ace added on, "We figured you were with them..."

"But all anyone told us was that your phones were off, and that the teacher's tracking spells couldn't find you!"

"Well I couldn't sit here and do nothing..," you try to defend yourself.

Deuce looked exasperated and Ace...looked like he was about to start shouting at you again.

***

After everyone had made their appearance and reunited, although there was lots of shouting here and there, everyone made their way back to their dorms.

Ace didn't follow the heartslabyul group. Instead, he followed behind you and grim.

The trek back to Ramshackle was spent in silence from both you and Ace, minus the ranting that came from Grim.

Ace reached out and grabbed onto your wrist gently, effectively stopping you from taking another step.

"Grim, go ahead first. I needa talk to y/n about something first."

"Hagh? But whos going to open my can of tunas?" He piped up angrily beside you.

"Sheesh seriously," Ace ruffled his hair aggressively. "I'll give you 3 cans of tuna if you leave right now!"

"Deal!"

Grim ran up the path and into your dorm.

You turn back to face him.

During the time you were gone, Ace couldn't sit still for even a second. The fear of not knowing where you were and how you were doing was eating him alive.

He wished you had told him or left even some form of explanation as to where you went. He was worried sick.

Tightening his hold on your wrist, he moved to face you directly.

"y/n, do you like me?"

You're taken aback by his straight forwardness. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, you chose the safest option.

"Of course I do. If not, I wouldn't have tolerated you this long." You tease him to ease the tension that's building up.

"You know that's not what I mean." His stare bore into your soul.

Intertwining your fingers together, he looks back up to you and says the words that you've been wishing to hear.

"y/n, I like you. I hate the feeling of not being able to help you, console you in your darkest times and love you." A blush spreads across his cheeks. "So please, don't torture me anymore..." His voice trails off and you can't resist the looks he's giving you.

Just like before, he's pulling you in with his charm. His eyes reflecting the desperation and anxiousness of your answer.

Pulling his other hand to intertwine with yours, you move closer and give a peck to his cheek.

"You know I can't say no to you."

Giving you the biggest smile ever, he pushes his lips to yours. His hands circling around you to pull you as close as he can to his body.