#so the circumstances are being jiggled

[bobbie-robron]

But, honestly, dad, I wouldn’t lie to ya. I have never laid a finger on that woman. (Part 2.2)

In this final part, Katie bemoans to Andy how Robert ruined things for her especially on her wedding day and for things to end as they did (um, it takes two to tango and the feelings were real between BOTH of them; it’s the producers changing the motivations). Katie sees it all as karma, she ruined someone’s life so why would she end up happy? Katie regretting walking out on Andy. Robert continues to weave his own version of things to Jack and Diane but Jack warns Robert, he’ll have hell to pay… by HIM! In the end, Andy winds up cheating on his current girlfriend with Katie.

10-May-2005

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

“My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

[preeningpisces]

Toji NSFW Headcanons

Lemme know if you want me to elaborate/write something about any of these 🖤

18+ Content below, mdni, implied chubby f!reader

✦ Controversial, but I don’t see Toji as a hard daddy dom sadist. Toji sleeps on women’s couches through seduction, which to me suggests that Toji knows how to make a woman comfortable enough to let him not only fuck her, but BUM on her couch. When he’s in secure-a-couch mode he’s very charming in a nonchalant cool guy kind of way; the type that makes you secretly want to impress them

✦ He’s observant, and usually has a good guess as to what someone likes off first impressions alone—most of the time, he’s spot on too. He can absolutely be the hard dom, but he can also be a smooth talking, slow paced partner as well

✦ That stuff doesn’t really make a difference to him, tbh. Believes “even bad sex is good sex” & doesn’t have strong preferences. At the end of the day, as long as he gets to cum & get his ego stroked bc he blew his partner away, he’s satisfied

✦ He has no qualm with you taking the lead - this mfer the type to lean back against the headboard with his arms folded behind his head, and a cocky smile like he’s ready for a show

✦ He’s prideful tho, so I don’t think he’d be ok with being extremely submissive - he’ll relent to a certain degree, but you’re not going to get much begging beyond a simple ‘please’ or two

✦ If he’s tryin to couchsurf you bet your ass he’s all about your pleasure LOL - in normal circumstances, he definitely prefers the focus to be equal

✦ TBH when he’s genuinely feeling a romantic connection he doesn’t immediately have sex. Since sex has been a tool he uses, he has no desire to rush things with you. The waiting makes it more special for him—he’d die before admitting that though. Go to therapy bitch

✦ Very very skilled, that much is obvious, and he loves to show it off. The king of “you’ve never come from head?” and then making you see stars, and come so hard it almost hurts

✦ Loves coming on your face—stick your tongue out, and give him a pretty smile. He might just get hard again

✦ One of those dudes that’s obsessed with the physics of things. Like smacking your ass just to see it jiggle, or grabbing it and jiggling it with his hands. He’ll squeeze your lower belly pooch and use it as leverage, rolling his eyes when you bat his hand away or get embarrassed

✦ NGL I see him loving older women. My heart just tells me. They usually have nicer couches for him to sleep on, maybe even a guest room (which makes him bust right off the bat), and are typically more of a challenge. He needs a sugar momma. Thinks it’s especially hot when an older woman calls him daddy

✦ He’s a fucking asshole, and has an infidelity kink; loves being the married woman’s side piece, and loves being present when the husband finds out even more

✦ He’s secretly messy as hell, I just know he loves gossip & pretends he doesn’t. Loves trashy reality tv but acts like it’s stupid. I see you Toji Fushiguro

✦ Changes positions often, honestly he just likes to flex how strong he is. It don’t matter how big you are, you are getting full Nelson’d, fucked against the wall, thrown over his shoulder, etc. Especially likes doing this with heavier ppl because they don’t think he can, so he’s gotta prove them wrong

[dnd-writes]

Way of Water

AO3

Tags: Power bottom!Eunbi, back-up dancer!reader, watersports, deepthroating, BFH

Warning: Watersports. I mean come on, waterbomb, watersports, I had to plus I couldn't think of anything else and I just really wanted to write Eunbi after seeing those clips

A/N: Never did I think I would write Eunbi so soon nor did I think that I would *not* write subby Eunbi. She's just that great. So... yeah, enjoy!

Also I used the "Door" performance as inspiration. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CBUzWUSVSM I don't know if this works honestly, I don't really Tumblr. I'll fix it when I wake up... maybe

“🎶 Just stay right by my side. Woo woo woo woo woo woo yeah 🎶”

‘Ok, next part is coming up. Just go up to her then go back to the side. Easy. Simple.’ You don’t know why you’re reassuring yourself so much or why you’re even hesitating in the first place. You’ve done this song, this dance, this particular move dozens of times on stage, at least hundreds in practice. Yet here you are, acting like a complete newbie doing his first performance ever. 

Eunbi runs back up the catwalk towards the main stage after finishing the second chorus of the song. Her wet, bikini-clad chest bounces around and it feels like time is slowing down, water falls from the sky so gently it feels like you could count every droplet in your vicinity. Eunbi’s breasts bounce hypnotically underneath the near-nonexistent top hugging her body, you’ve seen them jiggle and shake a thousand times before and not once have you thought about Eunbi sexually in any way but something about this current moment makes it different. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re seeing her cleavage in full or maybe it’s all the water being sprayed on her that’s awakening something you never knew you had in you.

And just like that time zooms forward and you’re back to the present. Eunbi runs back up the catwalk towards the main stage after finishing the second chorus of the song. She hurries over to a dancer then clings onto his nape as she starts singing her next line.

“🎶 Neowa 🎶 na sai 🎶 “

That’s your cue to move over. ‘Easy, simple,’ you repeat to yourself. ‘Just let her guide me, just flow with the music.’ It really isn’t that hard, just one step, one simple step that you’ve practiced for hours.

“🎶 aseulhan seoneul balbeun jigeum 🎶”

You let Eunbi pull you in close to her then her leg wraps around you. At that moment you feel the world just completely stop, not even slowing down like you felt earlier but rather completely still. Your face is an inch from her chest, it’s a position you’re completely familiar with but given the circumstances it feels so brand new. Though your face is looking away, your eyes aren’t. You peek over and standing there is Eunbi’s soft, massive chest in all its glory. Seeing it glistening with all the water turned you on instantly and gave your brain ideas you never thought it would make.

And how could you forget her leg, your eyes focused so much on her tits that you forgot the leg wrapped around you. To say your brain went into overdrive is an understatement because the moment it realizes Eunbi wrapped around you, the amount of nasty perverted thoughts more than just doubled. Your brain explodes then just like that you’re out of that fever dream.

Eunbi kicks the leg wrapped around you and in unison you drop to the ground. Your professionalism went back in gear but half your brain focuses on the choreography and the other incessantly sexualizes Eunbi causing you to slip up your dancing here and there, thankfully, as a backup dancer no one really pays much attention to you. And besides, it’s a water festival, you can always blame mishaps on the slippery stage.

For the rest of the song and the rest of Eunbi’s set at Waterbomb, you never had any moment as visceral or powerful as the ones during “Door,” there was a close call during “Glitch” but you held your cool.

You and the other dancers exit as Eunbi bids goodbye to the audience. All your friends look so jolly and hyper, bouncing and jumping around after performing multiple stages, meanwhile your face is blank. With your mind no longer half-occupied with dancing perfectly, lewd thoughts about Eunbi start to rot your head.

“That was so fun!”

“Can’t wait to do it again!” “I wish every stage was like this now…”

Several cheers erupt from the group as you all head over to the green room. “Hey, man, you doing good?” It takes a while for your brain to register that you are the one being talked to, you raise your head to see your friends stop in their tracks, all worriedly looking at you. You give them a soft smile and a passable excuse, “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… a little more tired than usual. I think I’ll just stay here for a bit.”

One of them pats you on the back, “What a bummer. Just rest, we all worked so hard today. Well if you need us we’ll just be outside watching the other performances, ‘kay?” You give a quick nod and wave them off as they disappear from view.

You enter the room and the cold air blasts your face, despite how cold it is inside your body feels the opposite. You try to stand right in front of the A/C, your ears start to hurt but inside you still can’t feel the chill. An idea pops into your head and you sprint for the mini-fridge on the other side of the room. The thing is packed with cold water bottles. You take a sip and sigh in relief as you feel the cool travel down your throat, but it still isn’t enough. You sip, you gulp, you down a full bottle, then a second, then a third, then a fourth. Endless stream of chill flows in your body but you still feel the heat, the problem isn’t with your face, in your throat, or in your stomach, no, it’s much deeper down and it doesn’t need acquisition to be cooled.

“Hey, there you are,” shouts a familiar voice. You quickly turn around and see the root of your problem, Eunbi. Standing there dripping wet, cardigan completely drenched, tits fully exposed, you don’t know whether to call yourself lucky or unlucky to be in this situation right now.

You’re not sure if it’s your mind messing with you or you’re actually looking at reality but with every step that Eunbi takes towards you, you swear you could see her chest bounce. “The others said you weren’t feeling well so I came to check on you.”

“T-That’s sweet of you. I-I mean, yeah I’m fine.” Eunbi finally gets right in front of you, even though you’re taller than her your eyes are looking way lower than where they normally would be at. You try to maintain eye contact but it’s like your pupils are too heavy for your own good, always falling and resting in Eunbi’s cleavage, just up and down and up and down. Similarly, Eunbi looks down, you follow her gaze towards the prominent bulge at your crotch.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just… the outfit and, and, and the water and–” You try to turn away and apologize but Eunbi plants her hands firmly on your shoulders and makes you face her, she looks you dead in the eyes and… flashes you a smile? “Look, it’s ok. You don’t have to apologize. You know what? The others are upstairs having fun. Why don’t we… have some fun… of our own?”

You’re at a loss for words. Is this really happening? Is Eunbi really asking you to fuck her or did you somehow pass out and start imagining that Eunbi is asking you to fuck her. Whether it’s a dream or reality you happily nod and oblige.

Eunbi takes your hand and pulls you into the small bathroom nearby. You don’t even take the time to look around, instead you quickly get on the toilet seat while Eunbi kneels in front of you.

Eunbi palms your crotch through your jeans and you squirm at the action, not because you almost came but rather something else is begging to be released. You notice Eunbi give off a devilish smirk at your movement and you nervously chuckle at what she might have planned for you.

“Well we won’t be needing these anymore.” Eunbi takes off her near see through top then shortly after her bikini, not wasting a single second on foreplay. Her tits bounce out now that they’re freely in the open air, looking bigger than in any outfit you’ve ever seen her wear. Well you’re certain what to call your situation right now – lucky – Men and women alike would kill to be anywhere close to your position.

“Or these.” She quickly unzips your pants and tugs both it and your underwear down. You help her out by lifting your butt and pulling down with her. Your cock springs free and Eunbi doesn’t hesitate and begins jerking you off slowly. Her other hand, meanwhile, goes above your dick and presses lightly on it. You squirm just like earlier, finally confirming her suspicions. 

“You look so full, baby. All that water you drank is already making its way down, isn’t it? Don’t you just want to let go? I heard peeing feels just as refreshing as cumming, why don’t we test that? C’mon, baby, just give it all to me. Let me feel that hot piss on me, baby.”

Pissing during sex hasn’t ever occurred to you before in your life, you’d think it’d turn you off but you’re harder than you’ve ever been your whole life. Despite your dick clearly wanting this to happen, your brain is still in denial over such a taboo. Eunbi’s basically begging for you to pee on her and yet you somehow won’t.

Eunbi presses down on your bladder but not too much, she wants you to pee but she doesn’t want to force it out of you. Perhaps there’s a middle ground. “Come on, baby. Don’t you want to see me covered in your piss? Soak my hair, coat my perfect tits and face. I just know you want to do it, maybe you just need some convincing?”

Then what is possible the hottest thing you never knew you needed happens – Eunbi starts pissing all over the floor. She moans as she empties her bladder, you feel a pool forming beneath you as the hot liquid surrounds your feet.. “You hear that, baby? I wanna hear that from you too. Come on, give it to me. I know you want to.” The sound echoes around the tiny area and it’s just the trick to send you over the edge.

As soon as the first trail of yellow comes out of your tip, Eunbi aims your dick at herself, treating it like a hose and showering herself in every place. First, she coats her tits in light sheen, just the sight you needed to see ever since that close-up view you had of her chest; Second, she aims it at her face, letting pee get into her hair and having it drip down her chin and neck; Lastly, Eunbi opens her mouth and takes your cock inside while it’s still gushing.

Eunbi bobbing her head up and down, sucking on your dick while gulping every single drop as fast as you give it to her. You feel like you’re in heaven. Just moments ago you were hesitant, not even entertaining the thought of pissing while having sex but here you are relishing at the sight of Eunbi drinking the contents of your bladder while also deepthroating you. Who knew that the modest Eunbi would ever be this skillful at something like this?

Your bladder finally empties the remaining urine into Eunbi’s mouth and not once did a single drop escape her lips. erent liquid is begging for its release.

Eunbi stops sucking and replaces her mouth with her hands after no longer receiving any piss. “Give it to me, baby. You wanna coat these tits, don’t you? You wanna cum on me and smear it all over my perfect face?” This time you don’t hold back, you let your cum fly as if it was just like piss. Your vision goes white and so does Eunbi, ropes shoot out and cover just about everything it could reach – Eunbi’s hair, her face, her chin, her neck, her tits. You slowly descend from heaven and the sight before you makes it seem like you haven’t. Eunbi uses the tip of your cock like a brush and spreads the cum all over her skin. She’s mixing a combo of piss, sweat, water, spit, and cum all over herself and the concoction coating her tits makes you hard and ready to cum again.

Eunbi stands up and her own piss is dripping from her skirt. “Ready for round 2, baby?”

[pissholesinthesn0w]

your kept girl - matty healy x reader

your arrangement was unconventional. you stay in his tour bus, available for him wherever he pleases.

contains: smut 18+, degradation, unprotected sex, oral, dom/sub vibes, lmk if i need to add more!!

your mind is reeling, your heart is pounding as you make your way outside behind the venue, half running to the tour bus. the gravel crunches under your sneakers, and the air has cooled down since you went in the building a few hours ago. you dig the key out of your front pocket and jiggle it in the lock, turn the handle and yank the door open, shutting it quickly behind you. matty made it very clear he didn’t like when you weren’t ready for him when he got off stage. he’d agreed to let you watch the shows as long as you made it back to the bus before the show ended at 11:30, before he would get there.

outside of these circumstances, you didn’t see him much other than on the bus. the occasional hotel room when there was a few days between shows, sure. but mostly your days were spent shopping and adventuring with some of the production assistants, matty’s credit card in hand. he let you buy whatever you wanted, anything at all, as long as you kept up your side of the arrangement. he especially loved when you bought sexy lingerie and toys with his money.

you knew he had no time for an actual relationship, his world burned too bright and moved too fast. you weren’t sure that’s what you wanted either, really. at this point, you were satisfied with this, whatever this was.

you pattered down the tiny hallway and stopped in the bathroom to re apply your red lipstick in the mirror. red was his favorite, and all you cared about in these moments was appealing to him, wearing whatever he liked. after smoothing down your hair a bit, you turn around and step into the room at the end of the hall. the band had gotten so big that their busses were huge in comparison to what they used to be when they first started out. you & matty shared the room, which was actually all bed. a tv on the wall, fluffy white blankets, pillows, and a small window behind the head of the bed. you could see out the window but not in, you’d thought that was a smart design choice. he’d been trying to get the bus company to agree to putting a full length mirror along the wall, he loved the idea of watching you, the both of you. but they never agreed, something about it being “too unsafe.”

you crawl onto the bed, your head landing softly on one of the many pillows. even after months of this, desire still pooled in your belly at the thought of matty ripping through the door and using you how he pleased. watching him onstage only fueled the fire inside of you, seeing him get so worked up and sweaty. the way he danced and moved his hips and his filthy smirks and oh my god how you loved this nightly ritual the two of you shared.

you hear the door open and shut quietly, the sweet sound of the clicking lock shooting straight to your core. it was a sound you’d heard many times, but it never failed to quicken your pulse.

he pulls the door open to the bedroom with a fire in his eyes. his short hair was dripping with sweat and sticking to his forehead. his white shirt was all but undone, the bottom button the only one that remained intact.

“hi, matty,” you say with a sweet smile, sitting up in the bed, bringing your knees to your chin.

“hi, my love,” he says, eyes crinkled, and you cursed the butterflies in your stomach. after all, he called everyone that.

“what’ve you been doin’?” he asks, loosening the tie that hung around his neck. you watch the way his veins in his hands popped out, fingers deft and sure.

“oh, just counting down the seconds ‘til i could see you,” you say.

he lifts his eyebrows at you and nods slowly, his tongue in his cheek. “good girl. ‘m here now, yeah?”

“yeah,” you smile, preening at his praise. “i bought this new lipstick today, do you like it?” you ask with a pout.

“i love it.”

he crawls over to you with a sly smile, wasting no time to spread your legs open with his own as he towers over you. his lightly bucks his hips into you, his already half hard cock begging to be released from his pants.

“such a good girl, my good girl. so pretty just waitin’ for me in here.” he breathes against your neck, biting your warm skin just to soothe the marks with his tongue. “an eager little thing like you in my bed, all ready for me,” he growls into your ear. the throbbing between your legs heightens as you buck your hips up against his, desperate for any friction to relieve the building pressure.

“mhm, always ready for you baby, all I could think of the whole time I was watchin’ you up there was how bad i wanted you to fuck me,” you moan, running your hands down his back, the comforting warmth of his skin making your head spin. it was true, you couldn’t get enough of him.

“s’ all i’m good for,” you breathe, and he lets out a low growl. “fuckin’ right,” he says as he sits up, ripping the air from of your lungs as he quickly rolls the both of you over so he’s on his back. you cant help but feverishly grind him on him, even with your clothing between you, the friction drove you mad. “like a bitch in heat, aren’t you?” you shudder at his words and you feel heat spread over your cheeks. you nod, running your fingers down his chest. you trace over his tattoos and you feel his cock twitch under you. “can’t help it,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him.

“go on with it, then,” he spits, motioning down to his belt buckle. you back up down his legs as he adjusts the pillow behind his head. you nuzzle your face against his crotch, licking a bold stripe up the outline of his cock, straining painfully against the fabric of his trousers.

“little minx” he says under his breath. “s’ why i keep you around,” you nod feverishly as you unbuckle him, your hands shaking with anticipation, the sound of his labored breaths had you aching.

“there you go,” he coos, unbuttoning his shirt, sitting up slightly to pull it off his shoulders. you gaze up at him through your lashes as you continue to fiddle with his buckle. he cocks his head with a faux pout. “what’s wrong, darling? c‘mon, i know you can do it. take me out, yeah, that’s it, fuck-“ he throws his head back against the pillow as you finally unleash him, hard and heavy in your hand. pre cum began to bubble up out of him, you plant a wet kiss on his tip before running your tongue along the underside of his cock. he grips your hair at the roots, pulling your mouth up off him just to force you back down onto his length, hitting the back of your throat as he holds you in place. “that’s it, shhhh, there we go” he whispers in an oddly comforting tone as he’s got his cock buried down your throat.

you breathe through your nose, finally able to suppress your gag reflex after much practice taking him. “so warm and wet f’me, aren’t you? sittin in here, just waiting for me to fuck you, to take my cock in all your holes, huh? fuckin’ pathetic,” he grunts as he starts fucking up in to you, eyes wild and brows furrowed, he bites down on his bottom lip. you take him, take all he will give you. this is what you were here for, after all. “what you were fuckin’ made for, baby.”

you pulls you off of him, a string of spit connecting your fucked out mouth and his dick. a ring of red lipstick is left behind at his base. “i’ve trained you so well, haven’t I?” he asks but he doesn’t expect an answer. you nod your head anyway before falling onto your back, quick to undress, tugging on your bottoms feverishly. “just doin’ what you know i want before i even have to ask,” he mutters, lazily stroking his cock that was still wet with your spit.

“you look so fucking good, matty, god,” you whine as you pull your shorts and underwear off with one go, tossing them haphazardly across the bed, your warm, glistening cunt hitting the chilly air. a whimper falls from your lips as you watch him watch you, grabbing at your tits from atop your t shirt.

“look at this pussy, baby,” he groans as he leans forward and without warning licks a stripe with a flat tongue up your slit, wrapping his lips around your bud and gives it a harsh suck. you flinch at the sudden feeling, warmth filling your veins at the look of the man between your thighs, disheveled and sweaty.

“all mine, yeah?” matty asks, lifting his head off you, chin glistening with your wetness. “all yours, only yours, fuck-“ you clench around him as he pushes two fingers in with not much resistance, your body welcoming him in like he was always meant to be there.

”that’s fuckin’ right,” he mutters before diving back in, his expert tongue swirling circles on your clit. you grab his hair and tug on the locks, he groans into your pussy and you need him closer, closer.

“need your cock in me matty, please,” you beg, and you were so ready to get on your hands and knees beg if he’d ask. you’d do anything he’d ask.

“ok darling, you’re doin’ all the work though, I’m beat,” he says with a smirk, throwing himself back onto the mattress yet again, stroking his cock slowly while he looked expectantly at you.

“the fuck you waiting for?” he spits, “‘m trying to be nice, my little pet doesn’t like it when i’m nice though, does she?”

you sit up and blink your eyes slowly, looking at him with a faux innocence, jutting your lower lip out.

“no,” you whimper with a defeated tone.

“you're going to have to speak up, i can’t hear you when you mumble, fucks sake,” matty snaps, still keeping an agonizing pace with his hand around his dick. his words make you feel dizzy, you felt your wetness starting to soak the sheets underneath you. anticipation filled your veins, the pink flush that crept up his chest to his cheeks, the sound of his breathing, all of it felt torturous.

“alright pet, i’m bored of this back and forth. come sit, come milk my cock.” he orders. before you could oblige he grabs you by the shoulders and you let him, pulling you up so you were straddling him.

you sink down on him, the stretch and pleasure all encompassing as you take every inch of him. “ahh- fuck,” he grunts, biting his lower lip. his brows are furrowed he looked positively stunning.

sounds of skin slapping began to fill the tiny room. his fingers dug into your hips as he you guided them- in and out, in and out. your thighs began to burn at the exertion. he begins thrusting up into you, holding you in place, hitting spots deep inside you that you never knew existed until him.

“my little fuck toy, so good for me, shit. rub your clit for me, wanna feel you cum around my cock.” he grunts and you waste no time obeying his command. you snake your hand down and begin rubbing fast, tight circles on your bundle of nerves. your can feel your pussy clench around him, and your high was coming on quickly.

“that’s it, is my filthy little kept girl going to cum for me? bet you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you? so fuckin’ desperate for me I bet you’d do anything i say.” he groans.

a few more thrusts and you come undone, his dirty words throwing you over the edge completely. your vision whites out, cunt clenching around him in waves. you’re a gasping mess, moaning his name like a mantra. matty, matty, matty.

“‘m gonna fill this little pussy up, yeah?” he sloppily thrusts up into you, jaw slack and eyes half lidded.

“empty into me baby, i wanna feel you,” you gasp as he spills inside of you. you can feel him throbbing inside as he pumps you with his cum, the walls of your pussy massaging every last drop out of him.

you stay on him for a long few minutes, leaning down to give him a kiss, the first of the evening.

“my good little cocksleeve,” he smirks against your lips and you give him a pinch in his side. “I deserved that,” he laughs. you giggle and get up off him, some of his cum falling out of you and onto his softening dick.

“clean me up,” he says under his breath.

you crawl up his legs and do as he says, licking up the remnants of his orgasm off of his body. you take his dick in your mouth and run your tongue around it, wanting more. you always wanted more.

“that’s it,” he cocks his head as he looks down at you, running his hand through your hair. “good girl.”

you preen at his praise, swallowing all of him without a second thought. “thank you, baby,” you say sweetly, rubbing your hands up his thighs. you loved the way he tensed underneath you, tight muscles flexing under your palms.

“go jump in the shower, yeah? i’ll get the bed made up for you,” he sits up, grabbing his wrinkled clothes.

“yeah, ok. shower sounds nice,” you say, collecting your own clothes that were strewn across the bed.

you take a quick hot shower, the remnants of matty going straight down the drain.

after drying yourself off with a plush white towel, you walk out of the bathroom and realize he’s gone. your heart sinks a bit, you were hoping he’d stick around for a cuddle. you shuffle over to the window and you see him, arm thrown over the shoulder of one of his bandmates, walking away.

with a huff, you open the door to the bedroom and see he did change the sheets and make the bed for you. he always did what he said he would, you could give him that. you settle in for the night, grabbing the tv remote and putting something on for noise.

a few minutes later, your eyes flutter closed, and you dream of what tomorrow night will hold.

[egg-emperor]

I feel like you're the right person to say this to: I hate hate HATE when people draw Eggman and he's somehow this super buff bodybuilder. Ivo Robotnik is a BEAR and he should ALWAYS BE A BEAR!

Oh I'm definitely the right guy, nobody will agree with such a statement quite as passionately as me lol

Yeah I really don't understand what's appealing about portraying him as buff and ripped like a bodybuilder or something. Some people do because apparently it's amusing because... he's not fat anymore he's super ripped instead haha ? I never understood it. And I especially can't when people seriously think it's a genuine improvement that makes him more attractive, it actually takes away a ton of it for me. It's like removing all the stuffing from a plump cuddly soft teddy bear so it's sad and deflated it's heartbreaking. He's a bear how is he gonna hibernate without all his fat fjshflsbglshf

I've been thinking about how I'm not even a really big fan of him being depicted as like a fat strongman either like this post provides an example of, which I feel is a hot take even among fat guy enjoyers because I felt like the only one for a long time but couldn't put it into words. Like I'll take it and sure I can kiiinda like it sometimes because at least he's actually being respected and portrayed as being fat at all, guys like that are cool, and I absolutely don't mean to diss the artists with a preference. But sometimes it kinda feels like some think it's the only circumstance fat guys are acceptable/appealing/attractive

But official Eggman doesn't have a visible built muscular body like a fat strongman, he has a big belly that's actually perfectly round and consists of pure soft pudge that has been visibly squishy and jiggles, he doesn't have visibly big muscular arms/legs in fact they're surprisingly slim and sleek, and he doesn't have a sharp jawline and slim neck and instead a very rounded face and cute cheeks behind his stache and a short wide neck. I love and embrace him exactly the way he appears in the games, genuinely the most handsome and hottest he can be to me, he's so perfectly shaped like an actual egg 🥰💜

Plus it's funnier and cooler that the immense strength he does actually have in canon seemingly comes from nowhere, instead of altering his design to make him "look" stronger with a more fat strongman build. He's beautiful the way he is and I just personally prefer for him to not have drastic design alternation in his body type in either direction. Well besides drawing him the same but fatter because I certainly don't mind then and tend to myself, better to emphasize than change hehe I'm clearly just not that much of a muscles guy most of the time lol, not the most appealing to me, that's Eggman's preference for others XD

I just wanna see more love for fat bears who aren't visibly muscular like a strongman doing any type of bodybuilding, who are just round and soft because they're lovable and sexy too. And if they are thick limbed unlike Eggman officially, I'd prefer for it to be embraced that it's because of fat rather than changing it to be super built muscle. Guys like that are so beautiful and it's one of the many reasons Eggman is so perfect and handsome. But of course anything is better than him being presented as some shredded bodybuilder, it's just very important that he's always a bear no matter what!

Being a bear should be absolutely crucial to his design no matter what when he has the name Eggman as he was named after his shape, that seems like a given. So it's really odd that in both official and unofficial stuff, it's pretty much the most commonly drastically altered part of him across redesign, it's literally his first defining feature to the point his very name ties in with it and draws attention to it. Without it he's just Man, no Egg. And besides that I believe in fat bear supremacy, he's the most iconic and perfect and sexiest that way and we're so blessed he stays that way in main canon 💘🥚🐻🧸

[tainted-liquor]

'Pick Up The Phone.⋆♱☠︎︎

GhostFace!Hobie Brown / BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Lemon Zest, salt and tears, and low sugar. (Suggestive, angsty, v little fluff.) TWs: Swearing, YOU LITERALLY DIE!! HOBIE KILLS YOU!, biting kink, murder W/C: 1k! A/N: You get manhandled by Hobie. That's it bae there's no love

It was a freezing cold night, the wind whistling as the rain pattered against your window. You hummed to yourself as you walked back and forth between your kitchen and bedroom, placing more snacks on your nightstand with each trip. You decided to cancel your plans with your friends tonight due to the weather and stay warm and happy under your blanket. After dragging half of your pantry into your bedroom, you threw your phone down on the top of the blanket and made yourself comfortable. You surfed through Netflix to find something entertaining to watch before your phone rang loudly next to you.

There wasn't a caller ID, so you let it ring as you continued to surf through the various shows and movies on all your streaming platforms until your phone rang again...somehow louder? You sighed as you declined the call, adamant about not taking calls from unfamiliar numbers. It was likely your psycho ex, so you brushed it away, turning on a random movie. The soft ambiance of 'My Girl' filled your bedroom, stuffing your hand into a bag of hot fries as you pulled your blankets up slightly. All was well for about 5 minutes until you got the same call again.

You groaned loudly, holding yourself back from throwing the remote halfway across the room as you paused your movie to answer the call with an extremely irritated "WHAT!?" There was no noise only the other end for a brief moment, followed by a low chuckle as you could almost hear the strangers grin. "Don't be like that...Why don't you wanna chat with me, lovey?" The strange voice asked. It was unfamiliar, and laced with a thick and heavy Londoner accent. It would have been hot, but due to the circumstance, you felt nothing but confusion. "Who is this?" You replied, fight-or-flight senses telling you immediately that something was wrong.

"C'mon, Dove, you tell me your name n I'll tell you mines." He spoke, that voice ringing in your ears like the most seductive lullaby you had ever heard. "Sorry, Mr. Mysterious...that's not how we get down around here." You enunciated, being extremely mindful that this was a stranger on the other line. He chuckled coldly as his once charming and flirtatious giggle turned slightly crazed and deranged before muttering a small "Thas' alright...cute outfit you're wearin'. See you soon." Your eyes shot open as he hung up the phone, giving you no time to process anything of what he said before you ran to make sure all doors and windows were locked. Sure, it could've just been some sort of sick prank call. But down here? Oh no baby we don't take chances.

The next 10 minutes were hell as you turned off the TV, quickly locking yourself in your room with a kitchen knife. You hushed your breathing, allowing yourself the full advantage of pure silence to scope out any threats or unusual noises. You fumbled with your phone as you went to dial 911 with your shakey hands. "Yes, hello?" You whispered. "I need the police here immediately, there was a call...I think someones gonna attempt to break into my house."

"Okay, stay on the line we'll-" The call dropped. "FUCK!" You shouted as you attempted to recharge your dead phone. There was a loud crash that sounded that breaking wood, biting back tears as you slipped into the closet as silently as possible. There was a series of thuds that sounded like heavy boots before your doorknob began to jiggle. Whoever was on the other end wanted in, and they wanted in BAD.

There was silence as you let go of a breath you were holding, relaxing slightly as you leaned back on a coat in your closet in relief. All of that serenity left your body when you heard the loudest bangs and cracks of your life, watching through the crack of the closet as your door came flying off its hinges. Tears flooded your vision as you attempted to stay calm, biting down on your finger to prevent yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs.

"Oh, you...what you think I'm stupid?" The man spoke as he waltzed into your room. He was tall...REALLY tall. He wore a rather scratched ghost face mask and all-black clothing, a crop top that had the arms ripped off, and a multitude of belts that held up his low-rise tight jeans. "You think I'm some sort of joke, dove?" He chuckled before pausing in front of the closet, facing the direction of the window before plunging his fist straight through the wood, grabbing you by your hair, and ripping you out with a feverish smile. "See, there you are pretty girl..." He cooed as he watched you scream and squirm, attempting to shank him repeatedly with the knife.

He quickly used his free hand to grab your wrist, pulling you up on your feet by a fistful of your hair as he quickly threw the knife away from your grasp. "C'mon, don't fight me dove, I only wanna talk to you..." he continued to coo as he held you painfully tight, fearing he'd break your spine as he held you flush against his chest. You sobbed into his chest, biting and scratching as he only groaned lowly at the sensation. "Hmm...'s not gonna 'urt me. It'd do the opposite actually" he laughed, cold and heartless. You utilized the fact that your legs were left to dangle, delivering a sharp knee to his groin and slipping away from him.

You didn't even wait to see his reaction as you grabbed your phone and ran out of your apartment. You screamed as loud as you could, chest heaving and throat burning from your rapid and strained breathing. It hurt, every single time you breathed it felt like fire. You rounded the corner, practically flying down the stairs as you dialed up 911 on your phone. Tears silently coursed down your face as you relaxed, attempting to catch your breath.

There was a sharp pain and a seemingly innocent giggle. You looked down to see a knife plunged straight into your stomach, painting your beautiful pajama set in a shade of ruby. You turned to look behind you, seeing another ghost face mask, only this one's hair was fully visible. Long, silky, brown hair flowed from the top of his mask as he muttered a low "There's always two, new guy."

The tall, 'emo' one descended the stairs slowly, looking you straight through your soul through his mask, lifting it up so you could see his unfortunately gorgeous features. "G'nite, love." He spat, delivering a kiss to your forehead, cupping both sides of your face in his hands oh so gentle hands.

*crack!*

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Inconvenient hours of overtime

Pairings: Wednesday x Weems (Platonic)

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: Wednesday finds herself in a stick situation and ends up tying weems into it.

TW: Periods? Blood, cramps, breaking and entering, Wednesday being Wednesday.

A/n I got so sunburnt at the beach … whoops.

Wednesday woke to a stabbing pain in her lower stomach. under normal circumstances she would be overjoyed. Perhaps Pugsly had finally become more adept in his knife studies. However, upon opening her eyes she let a small groan escape before snapping her jaws shut.

She was at school. Enid slumbered on over on her side of the split attic room.

Wednesday knew exactly what this feeling was. the monthly cycle, her period.

Reaching a hand down slowly to feel the sheets she almost groaned again at the sticky feeling on her fingers. Even in the low light she had seen enough blood in her teenaged existence to know she was lying in a pool of it, and being at the school that made things harder, not impossible, but harder.

Wednesday sat up and climbed out of bed. She left the sheets for now and grabbed some clothes from her dresser. Carefully, so she didn’t wake enid she snuck into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Enid slept heavily so it shouldn’t be a problem.

Usually, she would deal with this herself, so she didn’t need enid to wake and freak out over the blood.

She stepped into the steamy shower and scrubbed herself clean, glaring at the pink water that circled the drain as if it had personally offended her. Which it had … it woke her up. Her mother always said murder had a prerequisite of at least eight hours sleep.

After a quick shower to clean herself up she slipped into some black underpants lined with an overnight pad. pulling on a spare change of black Pjs she gathered up the soiled clothes and left the bathroom. Throwing the clothes on the bed she peeled off the sheets and bundled them up.

Grabbing her lock-pick from the drawer she paused remembering the student use washing machines were broken and needed to be fixed. A couple of rowdy furs had been wrestling and broke the doors off and pulled out the plumbing by accident.

Knowing that left only one choice, Wednesday debated which was the worse option. Deciding to just go for it she set out for Weems study, which was connected to her own personal quarters, which were most likely equipped with a washer she could use, maybe even a dryer. Otherwise, she had no issues sleeping on damp sheets.

Stopping outside the big double oak doors, Wednesday held the bundle of fabric under one arm whilst she picked the lock. After a few seconds of expert work which involved a lot of precise jiggling; it clicked undone.

Wednesday opened the door and crept into the study, making her way to the door at the back which led to the headmistresses' personal quarters. Wednesday shivered and opened the door.

Normally she may have just sucked it up, but the sticky texture of her own blood was raw and awful against her skin, and she didn’t want people asking her questions.

Wednesday opened a few doors before she found the laundry. Stepping inside she opted to ignore the light-switch for obvious reasons and began to put the machine on. Closing the door quietly she pressed the on button and stood back and simply watched.

She stared blankly at the machine as it threw the black sheets and clothes around and simply reflected on how tired she was. She longed for nothing more than a few more hours of sleep. She would defiantly be sneaking into jericho for a quad over ice in her first lesson tomorrow. Heaven forbid, someone found her asleep at her desk in classes.

fifteen minutes had passed when all of a sudden, the light came on. If Wednesday hadn’t been so sleep-addled, she may have been more aware of the principle no longer being peacefully resting in her room.

She squinted up at the person in the doorway who was rubbing her eyes and frowning.

Wednesday simply glared back.

“It’s three in the morning Ms Addams. What are you doing here??!” Weems asked sounding frustrated and bordering on angry.

Wednesday schooled her expression, which did not go unnoticed by the ever-observant Principal Weems.

“Blood on the sheets is only acceptable if I’m not sleeping in them.” She huffed. Weems stood a bit taller seeming more awake at the mention of her student's blood.

“Wednesday its three am, it's too early for your riddles.” She glowered down at the addams but it lacked the same ferocity as before.

“I got blood on my sheets and needed to wash them.” Wednesday shrugged growing tired of talking and her lips thinning in annoyance, she just wanted to sleep.

“At 3am? Are you injured?” Weems asked coming over and tilting Wednesday's head back with gentle fingers to assess her physical form for signs of trauma or distress.

“No more than any other women once a month.” She stated with an edge to her voice. Weems dropped the hand on her chin and took a half step back out of respect for the Addams need for space and the face she would very much like to keep all ten of her fingers.

“Oh… do you need anything?” The ever-patient headmistress asked.

“Clean sheets.” Wednesday replied curtly. Weems rolled her eyes and suppressed a smirk by lightly biting the inside of her cheek.

“Other than that, you impossible child.” She fussed massaging her temples in feigned annoyance.

“No. i enjoy the cramps.” Came the response.

“Wednesday!” The exasperated teacher scolded.

Wednesday ignored her and turned back to keep staring at the washing machine but Weems would not be deterred, no matter how odd the situation. She had come to expect the unexpected with the Addams family years ago when she still roomed with Wednesday's mother in her own years of schooling.

“Have you got… supplies?” She asked kindly.

“Ms Weems” Wednesday huffed in a very un-Wednesday manner due to her lack of sleep. “I would have to be an idiot without a single brain cell to not be prepared for what is an assured monthly event.” She sniped back not looking away from the sheets and willing them to wash faster

“Ok … alright.” Weems said smoothing her hands down her silk nightgown to reign in her thoughts.

“The student washers are broken curtesy of the furs, and I did not even begin to entertain the idea of sleeping in blood-soaked sheets and shorts.” Wednesday explained.

“Quite understandable.” Weems nodded.

“I assumed as much.” She huffed.

“Next time, knock. Wake me up please dear child. Don’t just break in. Under different circumstances I would have you in detention for a week. But for now, simply come with me. I have a spare bed that could use someone sleeping in it.” She said holding out a hand for the young Addams to take.

Wednesday stared at the extended hand, before glancing back at the machine She let out a tired sigh and relented. Her body simply was screaming for sleep as soon as possible and her limbs felt heavy.

“Alright.” She said after a moment of deliberation, she pointedly ignoring the hand that was offered to her. Weems nodded again and led her to a room with a bed in it, her hand on the child’s lower back in a motherly fashion. Wednesday was too tired to care. She wasted no time hopping in and getting comfortable.

Weems smiled from the doorway. “Wait here and don’t go to sleep just yet Miss Addams.” She said and disappeared for a minute. Wednesday huffed and tried to ignore her but her body seemed to obey as sleep evaded her.

A moment later Weems returned with a glass of water and two small white tablets in one hand with a heat pack in the other. Wednesday rolled her eyes.

“Ms Weems-“

“Wednesday,” the headmistress said sternly. “You're sleeping in my apartment with my rules, so you take the medicine and heat pack or find somewhere else to sleep.” She said.

Wednesday was too tired to fight anymore, she was exhausted, and her body was screaming for sleep. She relented. Allowing Weems to deposit the medicine directly into her mouth before taking the glass from the women and drinking some water.

Weems watched on with a fond expression and pulled the sheets down slightly to press the hot pack to the Addams’ stomach before pulling the covers up again and tucking her in. Pointedly ignoring the almost healthy colour that had seemingly come into the child’s cheeks as a result of her actions.

She walked back over to the door and turned out the light. She looked back at Wednesday, as she watched from the bed. Weems smiled and bid her sweet nightmares as she had every night for morticia during high school.

Wednesday frowned in the darkness at the stirring of emotion in her chest before she clamped down on it, hard. She would not be feeling anything. It was most likely the lack of sleep she reasoned to herself. And then, she folded her arms over her chest as the Pharos did and she was asleep.

Weems was already planning to excuse her from her first two classes, the bags under the child’s eyes not having gone unnoticed by the British blond even at three in the morning.

The child was smart enough she probably already knew the terms content for her classes and the principle had decided that the teen needed sleep more than school stress.

At that the headmistress went back to her own bed, nursing a cup of tea she made to help her sleep. She finished the last dregs in the cup and set it on her nightstands to be dealt with in the morning. Sliding under the crisp white sheets she sighed in content.

And things went back to how they should have been at three in the morning, with all parties, students and teachers alike, asleep in bed under the restful wake of dreams and soft snores.

[twistedtummies2]

The Little Thief grinned as he checked his heavily-loaded pockets. He was carrying so many pieces of gold and silver, the rare coins were weighing down his trousers. Thank the Gods for suspenders! Snickering to himself, the tiny man dusted himself off, then looked towards the giant door nearby, which had been left ajar. He smirked. You’d think an ogre would have more security! He’d expected stealing from a giant to be difficult, but whoever lived in this place, they were making it insanely easy. His greedy mind was already racing with thoughts of all the lovely ladies he could seduce with the coins…of all the vices he could enjoy…of all the sweet clothes, and that special Blastcycle he’d been eyeing up for a while! Even as madollar signs filled his eyes, however, the thief was not done: he could hear the titan’s thunderous snores inside the room beyond. As the behemoth was asleep, he figured now was the time to check through the giant’s bedroom. Surely he could find something of even greater value than a few pockets full of coins in there! It was dark in the giant’s bedchamber. The Thief had to grope with his hands to find his way…till he ran into what felt like a furniture leg. Suspecting he’d run into a the leg of a table or a nightstand, the thief scrambled up. The surface he touched was soft, yet firm; some sort of cushion he supposed. Undeterred by the strange texture, the Thief began to climb. Yes, climb. He wasn’t sure what this was beneath his feet, but it felt as if he were ascending a sort of spongy, plush hill. Did the giant keep a stuffed toy here? It had to be as gigantic as he was, it was so wide! Or maybe he’d found a mound of clothes, left somewhere- “YIPE!” The Thief’s thoughts were interrupted when his footing slipped, and he felt himself sliding. He stopped…and realized he was resting over what felt like a deep, DEEP gorge; some sort of musky-smelling precipice, which he only failed to enter because of the sheet of fabric that he now detected beneath his toes. He did not realize the giant had stopped snoring. Not till it was too late. Not till the light turned on.

CLICK. The Thief looked up with alarm. His bewilderment only intensified, and a sheen of sweat painted his face as he felt his cheeks turn red, when he realized where he was standing. This was certainly no plush toy…nor a mound of clothes…and definitely not a simple hill. Gazing up from the vast ocean of ass fat that was barely restrained by the ogre’s underwear, the Thief felt his heartbeat pick up the pace…as he saw the rather smug, almost sinister smile on the giant’s round, youthful face. Baby blue eyes that might have seemed sweet in other circumstances zeroed in on him with icy expectancy. “Hey, back there,” Billy Geant greeted, in a dark sort of voice that only few ever got to hear…and even fewer lived to remember. “Any reason you’re in MY house, little friend?” The Thief began to tremble, and stammered as he tried to explain himself…but all words seemed to fail him at the sight of the huge, fat giant that was sprawled out before and below him. “I…I was, ah…buh…j-just, er…uh…” Billy’s eyes narrowed. He gave his rump cheeks a flex, and the Thief yelped as he felt his feet being squeezed by the flesh beneath the cloth…hinting at both the muscular power and smothering depth of that maximum-sized gluteus maximus. “Hmmmm,” Billy murmured, musingly, as he sniffed the air. One could have sworn a hint of red entered his blue eyes. “I guess there’s no reason why I smell MY treasure in YOUR pockets, either, is there?” The Thief just whimpered, shaking like a leaf, knees knocking together. He saw Billy’s tongue lap across his plump, fat lips. “AH-BUT-YOU-IT’S-I-GAH-UM…!” “Uh-huh,” Billy interrupted with a nod. “I’ve heard it before. You know, MAYBE if you’d asked NICELY, I wouldn’t mind so much. But if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s sneaky little meanies like you.” He growled softly, and jiggled his butt around. An almost ghoulish giggle left the giant as the thief cried out, battered between the butt cheeks as he was bounced around. He lay right between them, wedged in the cloth-clad canyon with a terrified, humiliated expression. “So here’s how this is gonna work, little guy,” Billy said. “I’m gonna count to three, and you’re gonna empty those pockets of every last coin. If you do, then maybe I’ll consider letting you go. MAYBE. But either way, if you don’t…” Sharp teeth that resembled ivory axe-blades were now displayed, the gap between the incisors doing nothing to make them seem less intimidating. “...Then I’m gonna have some FUN,” grinned Billy Geant. “Maybe that means eating ya all up and making you part of my butt…or maybe my butt’s just gonna be the last thing you ever see. I haven't decided yet. Either way, I can promise you, it won’t be fun for YOU.” “W-Wait, please, I-!” “One.” “Y-You're not serious, listen, I’m-!” “Two.” “HOLD ON, I CAN’T-!” “THREE.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Art by @twisted-brainrot. Their ability to show the gorgeousness of Billy's backside will never cease to amaze me. <3

A bit of a meaner look at Billy than usual. Again, most of the time he's a good boy...but please don't make him mad. It's very unhealthy. 'XD

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love:The Daemon Sisters

Scanty and Kneesocks sat in the back of their cozy limo’s comfy confines, pouts on their sexy adorable as glowing link blushes adorned their faces. Which only deepened as they stepped out soon as it parked, coming to find themselves on one of the few decent quality beaches located between the border of the lust and gluttony despite their attempts to wear more composed expressions. The infernal sun, sand and surf occupied with swarms of imps, hellhounds and who or whatever called the 9 circles home. It was only natural the Daemon sisters found themselves turning heads and making jaws drop as they walked in through, gracing the local rabble with their presence and of course the sight of the pair in thei stunning black swimsuits. Which of course reslly highlighted their thicc,toned bodies,their blood red skin getting a nice glistening sheen of sweat from the heat. Normally they’d be all about throwing around their clout and asserting their dominance and status any and everywhere they’d go but today was not such a day. No sir,You see Scanty and Kneesocks made and lost a wager and of course they had to keep their word and deliver on their end of the deal. Even just reminding themselves about the fsct snd the how and why just irked them so damn much.

Scanty:”damnit I can’t believe they even managed to pull it off,who knew that runty imp could make that shot…”*she griped as she tugged at the rear portion of her thong,keeping it from riding up the crack of her crimson booty. Those twin cheeks jiggling with sinful delight as she bit her lip at the slight masochistic sting.*

Kneesocks:”we could’ve just specified money,or some grand prize but nooooo,we had to tell that woman anything she wanted, and it was this! If father ever finds out we’d never hear the end of it..”*her ever adorable and equally uppity sister snarked,eyes burning with annoyance despite the pinkish glowing blush in her fsceace. Normally the twins woild revel in the attention they were getting with their swimsuits but not daily and with good reason. Finding themselves at the entry to a cozy private little cove.*

Standing there waiting to greet the Daemon sisters was I.M.P’s resident feisty murder machine from straight out of Wrath, Millie,looking as perky as ever. Eyes twinkling with minxy delight which only made the pair give her glares. The sort of which had they been focused into lasers,would’ve burned through the shortstack hitgirl with all of their hate which didn’t really deter Millie all that much as she eagerly shook their hands, followed by friendly, playful kisses on their cheeks and lips. Their faces glowing pink as they gave her looks of raw indignity at her being so casual and friendly with them. Not letting up with their contempt as they followed her inside, doing their best to not have their eyes drawn to the sway of the Imp’s quite fine booty, as she shot them a look over her shoulders indicating she knew they were staring snd they could look much as they wanted. Before she spoke up to remind them of their situation and the circumstances of course.

Millie:”Now now,you both had the option to back out,my hubby gave You that. 9w9buuuuut y’all said You were demons of your word, right? How did you put it,if my Moxxie could make that killshot, you’d not only pay us double the hiring fee, but do anything we asked?”*shooting them a cheeky blep and wink their way. To which the Daemon sisters snarled and hissed. Yes of course they’d hired I.M.P to deal with a target in the human world their father wanted out of the way but of course given how Blitzo was, they had every right to doubt and have concerns. But Moxxie insisted they were uo to the task, which of course lead to this situation.*

Kneesocks:”Well we certainly didn’t expect your choice to be to have us let your husband fuck the both of us now,did we?”*her pointy tail swaying, scanty nodding in agreement beside her.*

Scanty:”All the same we will indulge your lewd little antics since you agreed to keep this a secret. We are demons of high class and breed so a little discretion is much appreciated…”*whatever else she and kneesocks were about to say was a derailed train of thought as they came to the spot in the secret cove. Finding quite the sight before them.*

There laying on a cozy beach blanket sat Moxxie, naked as the day he was born as I.M.P’s resident Intel hellhound was sucking him off. The usually snarky,moody hellhound’s eyes glowing with sensual lust as she orally serviced her Imp co-worker, muzzle bobbing up and down along what Scanty and Kneesocks would be able to tell was quite the length and girth. Her naked, furry form on display as she blew on that Imp shaft, drowning it in her saliva. Scanty and Kneesocks' wearing expressions equal parts aghast at walking in on such an indecent scene and stunned amazement, which made Millie sport a mischievous grin. Nothing got her a good ego boost like seeing bitches bare witness to her man's natural weapon. The Wrath Imp whistling to get their attention, Loona pouted adorably as she huffed,prying her muzzle off of Moxxie's cock with hesitation, causing the Daemon sisters to clench their thighs together to hide the nectar of arousal flowing forth. The sticky warmth trinkling down like pipes with a leak as they saw Moxxie's alpha grade shaft on full display. That stiff erect pussy hammering length and girth taunting them, threatening them with a very good time that would ensure they'd be screaming his name for sure. Millie of course bringig them back down to Earth as she delivered swift, firm slaps to their crimson red bubble butts. The red booties jiggling as the sisters gasped cutely, glaring at the shortstack hitgirl for being so impudent, to which she was non chalant as she dusted off and rubbed her hands.

Milie:"Now now,Loonie, I know Moxxie's meatstick is your favourite treat but y'all supposed to be just the fluffer this time, remember?"*she playfully teased, to which the Hellhound rolled her eyes good naturedly as she strutted her naked furry self over to the camera she had set up on a tripod. Millie playfully blepping at Scanty and Kneesocks who were clearly not into the idea of this wager forfeit anymore than they already were. Having to wear their swimsuits for Moxxie's pleasure as he had their way with them while she watched was degrading enough, but the hellhound as another witness and she'd be filming and recording it? If they weren't demons of their word, they'd have tried to kill her but she knew damn well there wasn't anything they could do about it.*"Well? Get to work, my Mox' dick ain't gonna milk itself...."

Moxxie:"Ooooh crumbs..."*the Greed Imp mumbled, having come back down from the sensual high of Loona's blowjob had recovered in time to take in the sight of the infamous Daemon sisters Scanty and Kneesocks standing before him. Their thicc,toned bombshell bodies on display in some of the sexiest black bikinis any man would pay to see. The pseudo twins pouting ina way that made them look just too damn cute and sexy at the same time,sighing as they decided enough delaying the inveitable. Striking sensual pin-up poses as they turned and showed themselves off, the looks in their ways making clear that the imp should appreciate the privilige and honour he had before him. After all not many got to see the Daemon sisters like this,as Scanty shook her juicy booty at him while Kneesocks arched her back in a way that made her glorious tits stick out. The crimson knockers and bubble butts shaking and jiggling as the pair cursed themselvesfor their treacherous libidoes. The cameltoes of their swimsuits soaked with their flowing arousal as they blushed,seeing Moxxie's cock twitch and stiffen more than it already was, pre oozing from the tip. It was then the sisters knew, it was show time....*

Despite their earlier sense of annoyance and grievance, the Daemon sisters couldn't help themselves as they found their libidoes made them go with the flow. Their seductive moments akin to bitches in heat courting for the attention of a virile alpha male to which a primal portion of their brains made them link Moxxie to that ideal just from that cock alone. hence why they know found themselves laying on either side of him, double teaming his cock with a fellatio tag team only Scanty and Kneesocks would be capable of. Their green eyes hazy with lust and desire as they outright kissed and made out with one another, tongues twirling and licking the tip, tasting and drinking up the heavy flow of precum as it dazzled their tastebuds. The flavour adding figurative fuel to the fire in their brains, deepthroated moans escaping them as they felt Moxxie not being idle. His quite firm, skilled handds squeezing their asses with sensual massaging caresses, before suddenly making them gasp with masochistic delight s he'd give them the occassional smack and slap. making those crimson red botties jiggle before his fingers teased and prodded their tong clad slits. Unable to keep their sense of shame and dignity as he displayed the reasons Millie would grade her man's lovemaking skills as out of this world as those busy hands slid to directly probe their gushing wet snatches. Making them squirm in ecstasy as they continued to lick and kiss his alpha Imp cock from tip to base, their hands caressing his quite equally impressive balls which they sucked and blew on as well. Their faces glowing pink with erotic blushes as they ceased their tandem blowjob, as they stood up before the Imp, unable to hide their state of horniness as they shifted their swimwear to flash and expose their tits and asses before him, presenting him their dripping wet pussy lips as they displayed their submission to him and awaited his next move. Their sense of pride, any hint of shame,modesty or inhibition cast aside for nothing more than base sexual pleasure. It was no surprise what followed next...

Scanty:"Aaaahhhn,damnation sister....his tongue is so,,aaahn Jesus Mary and Joseph..."*The glasses wearing ponytail toting sister quivered,unable to keep her composure as as Moxxie had his face pressed deep against the chsiony softness of her bubbly,shapely ass.That imp tongue of his slithering around,rimming her anal pucker and lapping away at e sloppy wet snatch. Before she let loose a melodic moan as that slithery muscle suddenly invaded her slit,kissing the entry of her womb. Legs shaking,knees buckling as Moxxie shoed in addition to his hands and dick, he was also quite the maestro at eating a woman out.*

Kneesocks:"How beautiful you sound sister,so depraved...aaahn,are you enjoying yourself as well sir? How does it feel to put this infernal cock of yours where many men can only dream? Aaahn if my cleavage makes you feel this good,I've yet to even think how good the rest of me will feel..."*the waterfall maned sister erotically praised the Imp hitman as she squeeze her crimson titties between that womb hammer of a cock of his. An erotic look of awe on her face as Moxxie grunted,hips pumping as his shaft thrust between the valley of Kneesocks' boobs. Mkaing her sensually kiss and lick the jackhammering tip as pre sprayed on her face.*

Loona of course was ensuring the camera was getting every single bit of this action. Sensually panting as she couldn't help but recall the numerous instances Moxxie rocked her hellish world. Damn could he get intense with the hatefucking for all her putdowns and insults about his supposed weight problem. truth be told the only real fat he had was that veiny piece of devilish heaven currently getting a titfuck from kneesocks. The hellhound moaning and with good reason, as kneeling down right behind her, Millie was also naked and busy eating out her snatch. Proving that Moxxie wasn't the only one between the Imp couple who could please a partner orally. Of course with how often she had Moxxie facefuck her and their kinky sex life of which she was a part of, it made sense she was as good with other women as her man was at fucking them. The wrath farm girl of course was naturally turned on seeing Scanty and Kneesocks fall further into becoming pending erotic addicts for her husband, how could she not be? It just did her sense of esteem good to know she had more than her fair share of reasons to give when some uppity pricks and bitches had the fucking nerve to ask her what she even saw in Moxxie and why she married him. Well that very imp had a few friends with benefits which included a good few succubi not to mention was currently having a threesome with the Daemon sisters, so suck on that shit ya losers!! Is what she'd say if the chance and opportunity presented themselves of course.

Kneesocks:”aaah my darling sister,I’ve seen You wet….*she sensually teased,laying on her front as she massaged Scanty’s thighs, her fsce pressed against her sibling’s snatch as she ate her out. Drinking uo the waterfall flow of her juices as her tongue invaded thst slit with erotic intimacy and familiarity. Scanty unable to reply as Moxxie standing in front of her, grasping her ponytail and single horn as he gave her a deep,hard facefuck. Gagging with masochistic thirst in thst jackhammering length and girth, her glasses askew as hearts glowed in her eyes. Throat bulging as Moxxie’s cock gave her an oral preview of what her and sister would be receiving soon.*

Scanty:”Aaahn,my dear Kneesocks,is he still hard? Where in all of hell did they hide such a man? Aahn this raw ectasy,,,it’s doing such things to us…”*Licking her lips sensually,as she held one of her sister’s legs at 90 degree angle splits,scissoring Kneesocks as she laid on her side,head upside down as Moxxie gave her own facefuck. The compact stud grasping her her horns as her tits bounced hypnotically. The crimson bodies glistening with sweat under the sun as Kneesocks own eyes glowed with pink hearts in her pupils. The pleasure of her dear Scanty rubbing their pussies together as this sexual beast of an imp wore away at their hesitations. Inhibition and shame giving way to raw, primal debauchery.*

Kneesocks:”oooh fuck fuck fuck don’t Stop! Get me pregnant you sex machine!!*the twin horned wild maned sister howled as she shamelessly bounced on Moxxie’s cock. Riding him cowgirl style as Scanty hugged her from behind, groping her bouncing tits as she kissed and licked her neck while the imp grasped her hips. Soaking his lap with her pussy juices as her booty was smacked by those glorious balls of his.*

Scanty:”Fuck fuck fuck, sister, i don’t think we could ever find a man better than this!, I need,no I want his babies!!”*she howled and moaned with abandon as Moxxie fucked her doggy style. Gasping whenever he would smack her ass, coaxing deep throated moans out of her. That is when she wasn’t busy pressing her mouth to Kneesocks’ slit, eating her sloppy wet snatch as her sister made out with Moxxie and had the imp lavish attention on her juicy titties.*

Millie watched on with sinful delight at the pornographic show happening before her. Sitting comfy in Loona’s lap as the hellhound fingered her while the camera continued to do its job. Recording away as it captured each and every single moment of her husband rocking Scanty and Kneesocks’ world. The sisters changing up positions or shifting between one on one to two on one whenever Moxxie finally came. The number of orgasms he had easy to keep track of but they certainly had to work for their desire to taste and feel their wombs fill up with that hot alpha imp cream. The usually uptight naughty Daemon sisters little more than bitches in heat,sexual junkies becoming hooked on Moxxie’s cock. Just as Millie intended, it always paid well to see her man never failed to deliver whether it came to killing or sex. After this, especially soon as she and Loona added herself into the mix, ther was no doubt Scanty and Kneesocks wouldn’t want this to be be just a one off thing. Particularly if they’d be open to the idea of Moxxie leaving a few buns in their oven. Just call her man Mox the Imp-regnator…..

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 28 - Rend

Story so far

I’ll be honest - this next section has fought me because while it’s easy enough for me to say “Noo the puppy pile makes us feel better but isn’t going to Fix them, they need to Talk like Grown Ups”, it’s been tricky to drag them into a place where they are ready /willing to do it, big bros especially.

Thus it seemed possible the motivation that might be most effective might come from a littler bro-who-must-be-protected actually needing that talk. Hence Alan needed to be broken first.

Except then Gordon had a bit of an internal breakdown himself (because I couldn’t just make Alan cry, nooo I had to make him bleed didn’t I? 😏) so this next part is a bit of a scene set for that / catch up on all their mental states from the POV of a certain squid who could challenge big bro for his racing inner monologue crown…

Apologies if it’s kind of slow / doesn’t seem to go anywhere. I promise I’ve written the end and I think it’ll be worth it when we get there.

💚💛❤️💙🧡💚💛❤️💙🧡💚💛❤️💙🧡

Gordon leant heavily against the kitchen sink and dabbed ineffectively at his damp hands with an even damper towel.

They looked clean now.

They weren’t.

Something about a brother’s blood lingered, invisibly, and when he closed his eyes to catch his breath he could still feel the warm slickness of it. Somehow oily, it made his fingers unnaturally frictionless as they moved against each other and his stomach churned at the sensation.

Once lowered, his eyelids felt heavy, itchy. Swollen. Realistically at least one of them was going to end up blackened by the dizzying impact between his face and a fury-fuelled elbow. He’d not seen that coming…

Leaden as they were, his eyes shot open again in surprise as something tickled his big toe. The cleaning bot having finished its consumption of the broken glass was nudging at his foot. The googly eyes he and Alan had superglued to it on a carefree whim so many months ago were jiggling away and it looked for all the word like a sentient being trying to reassure him.

It wasn’t of course, but he suspected there was one behind its behaviour and glanced instinctively up at the ceiling.

The bot butted him more sharply and he redirected his attention to the rest of his family. Apparently unaware that the glass threat had passed, they were huddled on a pool float island in a kitchen floor sea. It would be comical if there weren’t so many things wrong with the picture.

The first one was obviously that his only little brother had been leaking blood all over the place from several nasty slices to his hands and fingers. It was nothing short of a miracle none of the tendons were compromised and - he knew they should be thankful - but it was hard to focus on that right now. Not in these circumstances… when the injuries were… recklessly… bizarrely… self-inflicted. Where a frenzied Alan had tried to force the tumbler back into its proper shape with his bare hands, as if he believed he could fuse glass with sheer willpower. And when he failed Alan had actually fought Gordon rather than allow him to help prevent the cuts getting any worse.

That had been... well. Very Wrong.

Scott and John were nearly as pale as the little guy was. This wasn’t unexpected, he supposed - there was something about Alan being hurt, even relatively trivially, that really messed with all of them on a kind of primal level.

Another big problem with the picture was that the person doing the patching up wasn’t Virgil. It was always Virgil, unless it was Virgil doing the bleeding then… well, it was usually Gordon actually. They were all highly trained first responders and perfectly competent, and Gordon in particular had worked hard under his wingman’s eagle eye to become nearly as proficient. However, it was an unwritten Tracy law that when ol’ Steady-Hands Virg was present, he did this stuff.

But he wasn’t. He was there, sure, holding Alan on his lap, but no more than that. Not advising, not encouraging or doing any of the other Virgilly things he should be doing. Just… watching, not entirely present, like he was stuck behind some bloody curtain.

And obviously nor was it Gordon armed with the suture needle, which was just as well because he wasn’t feeling so steady-handed himself right now. Which was not unrelated to how Done he was with that curtain. And the fact Alan’s grip on things had shattered more violently even than the glass he’d sideswiped with a wildly gesticulating arm… Gordon was a split second too late seeing crunch coming. He hasn’t seen the result coming.

He should have seen it coming. Of course he hasn’t been as fine as he’d pretended. Alan had pulled a Scott on him and no mistake.

Grandma would have been the obvious next candidate for first aid administration but had backed away quietly at the high-intensity-blue-lasered command even she knew it was best to heed without argument.

It was Scott. Scott who snatched up the tweezers to painstakingly remove the remaining shards from shredded flesh, Scott who now wielded the needle. Because for some reason Scott wouldn’t contemplate anyone else doing it. Gordon suspected that the chance to fix anything… to do one practical thing to help was something his biggest brother desperately needed before he fractured too. Gordon was a little concerned someone would have to stitch the Commander’s bottom lip up next, such was the abuse it was undergoing. John was watching Scott’s every move with the mind of calm, neutral expression that failed to conceal, from Gordon at least, a few fault lines of his own.

The only one missing was Kayo. And Kayo was likely burning out Shadow’s engines somewhere over the Pacific Ocean as she hurtled back towards the Island. Nobody hurt Alan on her watch, not even Alan.

Hell they were a mess.

A sudden release of breath and Scott presented Alan’s hands for Grandma’s approval. Then there were bandages gently applied, baby brother knuckles kissed twice by the only real father figure the kid really remembered and then a pause while everyone avoided everyone else’s eyes and wondered what on earth to say next.

In the end Scott took the blunt approach:

“Why, Allie?”

“I had to fix it. It was for Virgil and I had to fix it.”

“Fix… your glass?”

“The mess… I had to… You don’t… you wouldn’t understand!!!”

Scott’s face was evidence enough of that but his voice was far calmer than the turmoil Gordon could see in his eyes

“No… I really don’t but I need to, what’s got into you Allie?”

“It was all my fault I’m sosorryVirgil. I’m so sorry, I’m always so damn cl-clumsy.”

The only one not looking baffled by now was Virgil but Gordon couldn’t be sure if that was because he was still a bit out of it and hadn’t been following. Alan huddled in his lap, Virgil had wrapped his arms around his little brother and his chin rested on the top of his head. He looked tired…

No. Not just tired… Virgil looked… resigned?

Gordon knew his eyes had widened as the realisation hit - Virgil knew. He knew what was going on. What on Earth had happened between the two of them that nobody else had noticed?

“Allie, talk to us. What is your fault? Whatever it is, Virgil isn’t holding it against you, right Virgil?”

Virgil just pressed his lips into Alan’s hair and closed his eyes.

Alan himself took a breath and appeared to steel himself.

“It’s my fault Virgil got sick.”

[floatingcatacombs]

GENSHIKEN POWER LEVELS

12 Days of Aniblogging 2023, Day 10

For no particular reason, all the members of the Genshiken have had their abilities translated into specific parameters. It’s pretty obvious that A would be the strongest, but you might be thinking to yourself, “What on earth is all this B+ and C+ nonsense!?” Well, don’t worry, because I’m not going to explain anything here. Just consult the Servant Parameter Rules.

Overall, the ratings represent ‘otaku power expressed as deviance, taking combat potential into account’.

Spotted Flower spoilers follow. (everyone is bisexual now).

Sasahara Kanji: C+, B

Condition: Green

An “average” otaku in nearly all respects, though he has good taste and the ability to distance himself and speak objectively, even when under attack by girls. Can appreciate yaoi in some situations. As a manga editor, of course, his power increases, and his devotion to his waifu is commendable. The Gunpla Quiz gave him the Ball as his favorite mobile suit, and he’s also a Patwaber fan!

Still… Ahhh! Men who get in the way of Yuri are unforgivable!

Kousaka Makoto A-

BAYOEN! BAYOEN! BAYOEN! BAYOEN! BAYOEN!

Extremely high base stats, a very scary offense and near-perfect defense, that pretty-boy face, perfect crossdressing, and the ability to make it all look effortless. Capable of going at it for half an hour while also watching anime! He can pull girls for threesomes whenever he wants! (not Saki though). He’s a master of the Great Tanaka Rensa technique! That kind of power is truly fearsome… However, a kiss on the cheek from Sasahara was super effective.

Harunobu Madarame. C++/--

Sou Uke

A lot of pros, a lot of cons. However, it all balances out to an average C. This guy is the very picture of a normal otaku… or at least, he tries to be. Low base stats, excellent coverage and decent utility, but he suffers from four moveslot syndrome. Capable of entering a gay relationship, and even bottoming, although the circumstances were not particularly praiseworthy. Easily punishable, due to his excessive recovery frames.

…I can’t decide if cheating on his wife on the night she gave birth to their child is something that raises or lowers his power level.

Mitsunori Kugayama C-

Level 27 Ranger

A pretty skilled artist, when he has to be. Usually he doesn’t have to be, so that’s fine. Manages to live a nice normal life without drama, and that counts for a lot – but he’s pretty conflict-averse.

Souichirou Tanaka. B

P-Bandai 1/100 MG Master Grade Ver. Ka

Capable of successfully synthesizing 2d and 3d by sewing cosplay, building gunpla, and even making custom figurines. Tanaka definitely understands the power of care and love. That’s not the kind of power you can take lightly.

The type to mostly just block attacks until he sees an opening.

Kasukabe Saki E

Blood Type: AB

An otaku-sounding name, but a low power level. Not actually very good at conflict, either. Still, she has been to Comiket Comifest! Don’t count her out.

Ohno Kanako D+, B

Wears a Three Star Uniform

Just wants to be a pretty cosplay mannequin with no internality – until Ogiue shows up, and then the gloves come off. You can really tell the devs put a lot of effort into that jiggling, huh. Don’t take her lightly though: she built seven Goufs.

Her victory line, “There’s no such thing as a girl who hates homos!!”, does feel really out of place after a round win against Hato though.

The Genshiken President ???

BLOOD TYPE: BLUE

A mystery to the last.

Angela Burton – C+

“Unlike your chest, mine gives people dreams and desires.”

You’d think that not being able to understand all those doujinshi she’s buying would make her a weak otaku – but in practice not speaking Japanese just makes her really good at dodging attacks. Extremely high attack power. Eventually becomes an enlightened being capable of appreciating both Yaoi and Yuri and, uh, demanding threesomes from her friends. Hm.

Suzanna Hopkins – B+

Pettan Pettan Tsurupettan

Today I’ll sneakily hide in the trees again and keep stalking Ogiue! I'll wait and steal the precious thing!  The little girl who speaks in nothing but references is actually really blushing?! She sticks out her arms when she runs; is she going for the cute look?

This fanservice joke girl (evil spirit begone!) /

born into the nation of America (probably plays puyo puyo)/

was actually, canonically, (Kadabra, Alakazam)/

bisexual??????? (Mada Mada Ra, Mada Mada Ra, Mada Mada Rame, yeah!)/

Manabu Kuchiki – E

Stand Parameter: Development Potential E

The other kind of joke character. Like Sue, he’s a grappler, but he just doesn’t have enough options or ability to adjust to matchups. Gets points for liking traps, but loses them for one-note misogyny; gets  points for kissing Madarame but loses them for being boring. Starts a lot of conflict but easy and uninteresting to deal with; he always goes for the super so you just have to bait it out and then smash attack him.

If that wasn’t enough, I personally hate this guy because if not for him Hato and Madarame totally would have done That!!!!!  

Ogiue Chika D+, A

Genshiken Brigade Chief and Ultra Fujoshi Director

Incredible otaku power – enough to draw doujinshi of people she knows in real life and easily grasp the truth of Kifujin Kaminaga’s “Hato x Brother” madness. She does constantly try to kill herself and deny her heart but once she stops doing that she’s capable of producing incredible amounts of manga. Ends up with a boyfriend and a girlfriend but complains that sexually satisfying them both takes away from her drawing time. She’s bad at dealing with conflict but her pure ‘level of ability as an otaku’ is close to the top of the rankings.

This ranking is curtain fire shooting game.

Girls do their best now and are preparing. Please watch warmly until it is ready.

The border land was wrapped in Scarlet Magic. Girls believe that you solve this Genshiken Nidaime.

Yoshitake Rika C+++

Nen Type: Manipulator (Pseudo-Coercive).

A demon of chaos. Her power as a fujoshi is fairly standard, but she devotes herself wholeheartedly to causing problems and drama – and in this capacity she’s powerful enough to approach Hato. All her moves have random components… in serious play nobody uses her but among casual players she’s often considered broken.

Yoshitake Risa D

Noble Phantasm Rank C

It’s all fictional anyway but girl. what is wrong with you. Fails to appreciate Hato, but does get Hato to wear fetish clothing, so that’s a bonus. The gap between her appearance and her personality is moe.

Mirei Yajima D+, A-

Self-Proclaimed Uncute Girl Doing Uncute Things

Toiling away in the shonen mines, convinced that someday Naruto and Sasuke will kiss for real no you just don’t understand the depths of their relationship. A terrible artist, and she knows it. Grouchy and grumbly and insecure about her gender presentation, especially with Hato around.

But she’s a good writer, and a good editor, and she knows what she wants (Hato) and how to get it. My second favorite character honestly; I really love the way her complexes towards and around Hato play out. “He needs to have sex with a guy so we can draw better manga, which is the only way to make sure he stays with me!” Yajimacchi are you okay? (no she is not. She has way too much internality).

Kenjirou Hato. A++

Super High School Level Homewrecker

What is Hato’s otaku level? Let’s review: Hato is a crossdresser with a foundational crush on his older brother’s EX-level fujoshi girlfriend, going so far as to dress up as her, copy her drawing style well enough to end up with a wall circle spot at Comifest, and blush when she tells him “Hey. I’m getting married to your brother soon. It’d be really hot if you dressed up as me and fucked my husband-to-be, your brother, as revenge on me for taking him away from you.”

Hato has a naked floating tulpa girl of his fujoshi self floating around behind him who does things like make him smell his senpai’s bedsheets and shower in his room, hoping Madarame will walk in on him. Once he's in deep enough with all of this, he gains a second naked floating tulpa girl of his fujoshi self who has the same eyes as his older brother's girlfriend and is Evil. Hato then integrates both of them and keeps crossdressing after a conversation with Ogiue about what he really wants to be and what he wants to draw.

Hato is out of his fucking mind. I love him.

Hato’s conflict potential is also extremely high. Not only was he a judoka (who spent time in the locker room looking at other boys’ bodies and thinking about yaoi) he expertly plays all kinds of “ohhhh you should just give up on me” women games with Madarame’s pure maidenly heart.

And then Spotted Flower happens. Spotted Flower is a moiling toxic sexual swamp of barely-holding-together relationships and threesomes where your good old favorite Genshiken buddies are now bi (Kousaka, Sasahara, Sue, Ogiue, Angela, and Yajima, in addition to original series bisexuals Madarame and Hato) and cheating on each other. Everybody hates Spotted Flower and they’re so wrong.

By the time of Spotted Flower, Hato is living as a woman full time, with silicone implants.

Regrettably, I have no choice but to stan.

[fangirlshrewt97]

A Dream Come True

You know, it’s been a minute since I wrote for RamBheem. And @umbrulla shared the most adorable/delightful drawing recently that really set my gears turning. 

I originally envisioned this as a comedic drabble, but predictably perhaps, it became super mushy instead. 

Warning: This is set in an A/B/O world, but its as family friendly as can be. Just didn’t want to blindside you...

Still, I hope you guys like it!

///

Ram hums as he pats Hathrini's back, a steady beat that turns into a caress when she finally burps. He smiles as he feels her small nose twitching against his neck as she rubs her petal-soft cheeks against his scent gland. Caressing upwards, Ram rubs his thumb in a circular motion in the back of her skull.

He shifts her, so she is laying in the middle of both his arms, parallel to each other as he gently curls and uncurls his arms. The motion makes her lips twitch in a smile as her eyes blink slowly, halfway to falling asleep. Ram coos as her when she reaches up to grab at his hair.

"I think that's enough playing, my little talli." Ram tells her. He places her in his lap, jiggling one knee to rock her. When she yawns, he presses the side of his index finger to the bottom of her chin, closing her mouth for her. She blinks at him.

Ram kisses her hair, a dense layer of raven curls that immediately make obvious who her father is.

His heart feels so full nowadays, especially in the moments when his daughter is in his hands. The past few months, no, years, before her birth had been an unending series of trials and tribulations, miseries and unforgivable actions. But against all odds, for reasons he cannot fathom, yet is deeply indebted to, Ram has somehow managed to get a happy life. With a mate who adores him, and a daughter he loves beyond comprehension, with friends who are loyal to them, and their cause.

Of course, the fight is ongoing, and now more than before, Ram knows it is imperative that India be free.

Hathrini deserves to grow up in a land that is not being crushed under the heels of foreigners who think they have a right to it.

The baby mewls, turning to rub her face against his thigh, face scrunching at the feel of cloth in the way. Ram huffs. "Come now, amma, you have already had your dinner. Go to sleep."

He shifts her so she is laying pressed to his chest where his shirt is unbuttoned. At the feeling of warm skin beneath her, the baby settles.

Ram cups the back of her head as he tilts his head back. He is sitting up against the wall of their hut, on their old mattress and worn pallet. The village is quiet as everyone retires for the night, and from the shifting curtains by the doorway that are swaying with the breeze, he can make out the night shift sentries heading to the lookout post.

Ram and Bheem had had several discussions about whether to set up their home in the village or a little away, with Bheem saying Ram would feel more comfortable with the privacy they could get. But Ram had argued that Bheem's duties would be best fulfilled if he was near his people, and ultimately won him over.

Speaking of Bheem… Ram opened his eyes when he heard the patter of familiar footsteps cross over the threshold.

As always, Ram's heart skipped a beat as he drank in the sight of his mate. When Ram had first met Akthar, something inside him had woken up, and as they had spent those weeks together, that…thing, it had yearned. Yearned for this man who he could never be with, for so many reasons, not the least being his life was not his to give, but one pledged to a cause he could not fail. And yet. He had been weak, and selfish, and let himself have one night.

When the stars align, one night is all it takes isn’t it?

After ascending to pleasures he had never known, everything had been ripped away by the cruelest of circumstances. When he was given the “honour” of punishing the Alpha who had dared to stand up against the Britishers, it was also with the idea of adding another layer of humiliation for Bheem, being forced to kneel for an Omega. Ram had bled that day, but could not shed any tears, because he did not deserve it. He had been the one inflicting the whip, what right did he have to pain?

After everything though, Bheem had accepted him anyways. Not because he was with his child. He had accepted Ram.

Bheem carefully stowed away all his weapons before unwinding his turban. He stripped out of the rest of his clothes, removing his waist sash, kurta, and dhoti, leaving him in his brown loin-cloth.

At times Ram would pinch himself discreetly, just to ensure this was his life, and not a fantasy his brain conjured up as he lay dangling from shackles, awaiting a noose that would send him and his child to doom. Other times, he felt such a tidal wave of gratitude and love crash into him, he thought he would drown. And many times, he would feel pride, because that was his mate. So strong and broad, with a heart the size of the world, and a light that would never let Ram feel the cold, or solitude ever again.

Ram met his gaze with a fond smile, head still tilted against the wall. Bheem's answering smile felt bright enough to mimic the sun.

"And how are the two halves of my heart doing ?" Bheem asked as he walked over to them.

"You say two halves, yet your eyes are only glued to one of us." Ram teased, pointing out how Bheem had not taken his eyes off of Hathrini since he entered, save the one smile.

Bheem shrugged dismissively, getting on the bed and crawling over to the pair. The gold of his nose ring reflected the oil lamp's light. "Did she behave?"

"She always does. When she isn't trying to copy her father's roaring at the top of her lungs." Ram said wryly.

Bheem's eyes seemed to twinkle as he stopped scant inches from them, instead opting to lean forward to look at their baby. "She's amazing."

Ram took in the profile of this tiger of a man. So much ferocity and protectiveness within him, but looking at him now, he could be confused for a little kid. Ram bit his lip to curb the urge to throw his arms around Bheem. Hathrini would not appreciate the gesture.

"With who her father is, you expected different?"

Bheem's gaze flicked up to him. "Her dame is pretty extraordinary too."

Ram's cheeks reddened as he looked away. Bheem chose the worst times to be suave and charming.

Bheem chuckled, a deep, happy sound that settled into Ram's bones. He reached out one hand to cover Ram's on Hathrini's back. He peeled Ram’s hand away, sliding his own around the baby to carefully lift her. Ram jerked forward, a growl escaping him as Bheem giggled playfully, holding Hathrini close to his face.

"Bheem! I nearly had her down!" Ram complained as Hathrini blinked her eyes open, legs kicking when she realized who was holding her.

"But I haven't played with her in so long Rama!" Bheem replied as he shifted to lie down with his head on Ram's thigh, lifting the baby up as far as his arms would stretch before bringing her back down, and then lifting her again.

Hathrini gurgled happily, fists waving as she reached out for Bheem, only to be lifted into the air before she could grab his beard. Ram's smile twitched, at once adoring the sight of his mate and child playing, as he sighed at all his efforts for bedtime going to waste.

"You played with her two nights ago." Ram pointed out.

"Exactly. So long!" Bheem exclaimed as he brought his daughter close enough to rub his nose against hers in a motion that made her laugh delightedly.

"You're a menace." Ram said as he starting carding his fingers through Bheem's hair, his free hand laying on Bheem's shoulder.

Bheem winked at him as he turned, bringing Hathrini down to also lay her against Ram's thigh. He gave her his index finger which she grasped tightly, immediately bringing it to her mouth to suck on. "Such a strong grip."

Ram hummed, rubbing two knuckles against Hathrini's cheek. "Just like you."

Bheem pulled the fist holding his finger to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Hathrini gazed up at him wide-eyed, like he was the wonderful thing she had seen. Ram could understand.

"Her eyes are just like yours though. I'm glad." Bheem said as he brushed his thumb against her cheek. Ram’s cheeks flamed.

He tightened his grip on Bheem's hair, and when he looked at his mate, his figure blurred from the tears that had gathered at the corner of his eyes.

Bheem smiled kindly at him. Looking at their child, he cooed. "Looks like I tired her out."

Hathrini was fast asleep, sucking her thumb as she lay sprawled between them. Ram made to get up, but Bheem pressed his hand to his thigh. "I'll do it."

Bheem rolled out of bed, standing to receive the baby from Ram, and turned to place her inside the saree-cradle they had tied  next to their bed. He gripped the saree about halfway down, gently shaking it so it started to rock on it's own. Once he were sure Hathrini was not going to wake up, he let go of the saree. He then went to the oil lamp, extinguishing the flame before finding his way back to their bed in the dark.

Ram waited where he was, eyes closed as the world around him fell dark. “Did you have dinner?”

Bheem hummed. “Yes, before we crossed the river. Gayathri Akka had packed some food for us.”

Ram nodded, covering his mouth as he yawned. He went to shift down the bed, only to instead find himself yanked towards Bheem.

“Bheem!” he hissed, but didn’t resist as his mate pulled him onto his lap.

Bheem made a noise of acknowledgement as he smushed his face into the curve of Ram's neck, inhaling deeply as arms wrapped around his waist in an iron grip. "Do you have any idea how good you smell right now?"

Ram sighed, wrapping his own arms around Bheem's shoulders as he buried his nose in Bheem's curls. "I smell like sweat and baby."

Bheem nipped at his jaw, making Ram jump. "You smell like campfire and sweet milk. Like dinner, and Hathrini, and us..."

"Bheema..." Ram whispered as Bheem held him closer.

"I want to roll in your scent, Bangaram. Let’s never be apart for so long again."

Ram squeezed his arms. Bheem’s trip had lasted two days. Missions would come that would keep them apart for longer. They both knew it was an impossible request, but Ram nevertheless wished he could grant it to his mate.  

In the dark, Bheem tilted his head upwards, and Ram obliged by running his nose down Bheem's forehead to kiss Bheem's lips, pausing only to nip at the tip of Bheem's nose.

It was a soft exchange of kisses, the heat and desire banked in the background as they just relished in the presence of their mate in their arms after their brief separation. At some point they tipped over, Bheem ending in the space between Ram's legs as he peppered his face with kisses. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. The moon still stood high in the sky.

Desire started to make itself known when Bheem rolled their hips together, Ram bit his lip, eyes squeezing shut as he swallowed a whine. "Bheema..."

Just then, a quiet mewl broke through the lover’s haze. Ram turned towards the cradle.

Bheem's sigh was more felt than heard as he lifted his face to look at Ram. With their eyes adjusted to the dark, Ram reached up to tuck a stray curl back into place. "I'm sorry..."

Bheem leaned down to nip at Ram's lips. "Nothing to be sorry about, Rama.”

Ram rolled out from under Bheem to pull their daughter out of the cradle, trying to quiet her cries. “Hungry so soon, bangaram?”

Hathrini’s cries were hiccuping as she rubbed her face against Ram’s chest. “Yes, yes, hold on.”

Bheem had left the bed to grab the oil lamp. Ram shot him a smile in thanks as he settled back against the wall, shrugging off the shirt before bringing her up his suckle. He frowned as she didn’t latch, even switching sides.

“She’s not hungry?” Bheem asked.

Ram shook his head. Hathrini started to cry again, and Bheem ruffled her hair. That got her to stop enough to look up at them with teary eyes. Bheem blinked before his face split into a wide grin.

“Is that it, amma? You want to sleep with us?”

“What?” Ram asked, confused. Bheem took Hathrini from Ram, instead laying her in the middle of the bed.

“Come on, Rama, she just wants to sleep with her parents.” Bheem said as he laid down, left arm tucked under his head as he patted her tummy with his right.

Sleep with… Ram’s brows straightened. It had been two days since Bheem had spent the night with them. She had missed their combined scents.

Feeling his heart simultaneously beating rapidly and melting in his chest, Ram laid down in a mirror image of Bheem.

Hathrini’s sobs quietened as she noticed both her parents bracketing her. Ram smiled at her. “Was that all,  my vajrala moota?” Ram asked her.

Hathrini babbled sleepily at him as her eyes fell shut. Bheem giggled on her other side, winking again at Ram.

“Looks like its bedtime for us all.” Ram shook his head in amusement as he settled more comfortably, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s hair. And after a second, he pressed one to Bheem’s as well.

"Good night Bheema."

"Good night my love."

///

@rambheem-is-real​ @budugu​ @bromance-minus-the-b​ @hissterical-nyaan​ @obsessedtoafault​ @hufhkbgg​ @yehsahihai​ @rorapostsbl​ @fangirl-from-discord​ @fadedscarlets​ @alikokinav​ @chaotic-moonlight​ @rambheemisgoated​ @rambheemlove​ @jaganmaya​ @burningsheepcrown​ @lovingperfectionwonderland​ @rosayounan​ @iam-siriuslysher-lokid​ @thewinchestergirl1208​ @dumdaradumdaradum​ @ronaldofandom​ @jjwolfesworld​ @jrntrtitties​ @kashpaymentsonly​ @jeonmahi1864​  @stanleykubricks​ @m3gs1mps4a​ @tulodiscord​ @teddybat24​ @sally-for-sally​ @ssabriel​ @jadebomani​ @stuckyandlarrystuff​ @veteran-fanperson​ @ohfuckoffpls​ @bheemaxrama​ @chaidrivenwhore​ @gifseafins​ @keyhunter04 @umbrulla​

[voraciousvore]

The Half-Blood Giant (40/51)

***Contains soft, safe, unwilling vore, some threat of digestion, full tour (not explicit at the end), and some nudity involving non-consensual touching***

Chapter 40: Full Tour

Hunter had originally planned to give Hannah a break and let her out when classes were done. However, being interrogated by the cops made him antsy. He was relieved that the other giants were unable to hear her cries from the depths of his midsection. He didn’t think she could hear them speaking on the outside, but she could definitely hear his own resonant voice ringing through his guts. When she heard her own name, and Hector’s, she had flipped out. Hunter had to weaken his spell and compress his stomach to subdue her. 

So, he kept her inside his stomach. From his experiment with Amber, he knew he could keep her alive in his belly while he slept. He didn’t want to risk her being discovered or running off. He could sleep restfully, even better than under normal circumstances, knowing she was secure within him. At the conclusion of the day, he laid down in bed and fell asleep with sugared dreams. 

Hannah was exhausted, defeated, and miserable. She had been marinating in Hunter’s gastric juices, with human remains and digesting food, all day long, trapped in hot, slick, pulsing flesh. She had no respite from her torture, no food to eat or water to drink that wasn’t contaminated. Even if she possessed food, hypothetically, she would’ve been too nauseated to eat, despite her deprivation. She did get some refreshment when Hunter drank water and it poured over her, as disgusting as it was to drink water that had already been imbibed by another. Yet, she had no choice, since she had become thirsty and dehydrated from sweating in the filthy heat. As Hunter’s vitals slowed from slumber, the rhythmic beats and rocking of the stomach walls lulled her into a fatigued sleep like death. 

Hunter awoke feeling wonderfully refreshed. He allowed himself a luxurious full-body stretch before poking his tummy. “Hannah? You awake?” She didn’t move or answer. He cupped his hands around his stomach, jiggling it playfully. “Hannah?” 

He couldn’t feel her in his belly. He squeezed his stomach, trying to find her, but the organ was empty. Indeed, he felt his usual hunger rumbling and gnawing at the hollow space. Dread washed over him. Had he digested her? His magic should have protected her! She couldn’t be dead! “Hannah,” he said louder, but not too loud, as he didn’t want to draw the attention of the other boys in the dorm. “Are you in there?” He poked and prodded at his abdomen, trying to find her. 

Hannah gradually roused from her troubled state of unconsciousness as she heard a deep voice vibrating through her, echoing all around her. She was still encased in shifting walls of flesh, but something was different. The walls had a sharper curve to them than the larger stomach, and the muscular contractions were dissimilar, slowly propelling her in a singular direction with ripples or waves rather than the circular stirring motion characteristic to the stomach. The texture was abnormal as well, as if the walls were covered with little fingers that tickled against her as she passed over them. 

Hannah pulled herself into a sitting position and rubbed her hands blindly over the walls, covered in those weird little rubbery sausages, with considerable confusion. The space still gave her plenty of room to move around in, but it was narrower, like a tube. Just as she tried to stand up and get her bearings, she reached a bend in the tube and toppled over into a different section with a cry. Panic rose within her and she attempted to climb back up to where she was, but she had nothing to grab onto to hoist herself up. The protrusions in the walls were insufficient to support her weight and too slippery and insubstantial to hold on to, merely sliding through her fingers. The current dragged her further through the tube she had fallen into, which leveled out and nudged her in the opposite direction. 

She was frightened and confused. Clearly, she was still inside Hunter’s body, but she wasn’t in his stomach anymore. Horror gripped her heart as she realized what had transpired. When she passed out from exhaustion last night, she had slipped deeper into his gastrointestinal system.  Now, she was swimming around in his entrails, probably somewhere in his small intestines. Hannah freaked out and began punching and kicking the walls encasing her. 

“Hunter! Get me out of here, now!” she exclaimed with alarm. 

“Oh, there you are,” Hunter rumbled back. The flesh around bent inward slightly with a grotesque squelch as Hunter pressed into his torso with his fingers. 

“Hunter, please! Help me!” Hannah shrieked. 

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” Hunter replied. “You’re too far down for me to throw you up. I don’t have as much control over my intestines as I do my stomach.” He paused before delivering the bad news to her. “There’s only one way out from there...” 

Hannah crumbled against one of the rippling walls. “No... oh God, no...” 

“Regrettably, yes.” 

“Ugh! That’s disgusting! I can’t believe you did this to me, you bastard!” Hannah slugged his innards out of pure frustration. 

“Well, sorry, but it’s kind of your fault too. You should’ve been more aware of your surroundings.” 

“You shouldn’t have left me in this hell to rot all day and night! What was I supposed to do? Just not sleep, after having no food, no respite from this nightmare?! I hate you! I fucking hate you! You revolting monster!” Hannah sobbed and kicked at the walls uselessly. 

Her words stung Hunter to the quick. He didn’t want her to hate him. “S-sorry...” he murmured. Neither of them had anything substantive to say beyond Hannah belting out obscenities, so the conversation ended as Hunter got out of bed and prepared for school. Hannah eventually stopped cursing and pouted, crossing her arms as the intestines ferried her further along. She realized there was no way for her to crawl back up to his stomach, since she couldn’t climb out when she fell down one of the countless twists and turns. She had no choice but to traverse the maze, until she eventually plunked into his large intestine. And after that... Hannah shuddered with revulsion. She didn’t want to think about it. 

She cringed in abject misery as she was dumped through another bend, and the walls undulated around her, shuttling her forward with obnoxious squishing and gurgling. She could feel the giant’s larger body walking and moving around as he went about his day. She almost wished Hunter would just digest her so she wouldn’t have to endure this torture, but she didn’t want to die. She needed to survive so she could be reunited with Hector. As she thought about him, she wondered what he was doing at that moment. Was he thinking about her? Searching for her? 

She recalled the prior day, when she overheard Hunter talking about him, and herself as well. She couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation, but she presumed somebody must’ve been asking Hunter uncomfortable questions. Was it possible they might’ve figured out Hunter was responsible for her disappearance? Her momentary hope was crushed when the horrific truth dawned on her. Hector was missing. Now she was missing. 

Hunter claimed Hector was waiting for her at the cafeteria the morning he snatched her up and devoured her. At the time, Hannah hadn’t questioned it: She was just relieved that Hector was no longer missing. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? A ruse, to get her to cooperate and stay with him without raising a fuss. Dread weighed heavily on her, an impossible burden that smashed her into jelly. Hunter had likely done something terrible to Hector. Did he kill him? Eat him? Were those bones inside the giant’s belly his?  

She needed to know, now. “Hunter!” she called, pushing her palms into the lining of his entrails. “Hunter! Can you hear me?” No answer, except the ambient gurgling consuming her. She pressed down harder with a sickening squish, adding in a few kicks for good measure. “HUNTER!!!” 

He groaned, a vocalization expressing clear irritation that rumbled through the tunnels of his intestines, but still didn’t speak to her. By now, Hunter was in class, so he couldn’t enter a conversation. Hannah began to howl and scream, thrashing around and attempting to cause him as much pain as she could, even as her fists bounced harmlessly off the villi. The giant body shuffled around her but otherwise didn’t budge. He compressed his hand into his abdomen, trying to subdue her by squishing her meat prison tighter around her, but Hannah didn’t relent. With a sigh, Hunter reduced his magic. 

Hannah suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. She panted, but there wasn’t any oxygen. The air radiated awful, suffocating heat, and every inch of her skin started to sting. She tried to cry out but the walls felt like they were closing in around her. Her vision morphed to gray. Time slowed down as the world spun in dizzying circles. Hannah lost consciousness. 

When she gained awareness again, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? Either way, her situation was the same: endless tunnels of meat with ripples and bends, pushing her along at a leisurely pace like a gondola ride through the worst hell she could imagine. She needed to get out; she felt like she would lose her sanity if she toured the giant’s innards for another second. She began to crawl forward in the blackness, sliding with disgust over the lumpy folds and thin protuberances, in an effort to speed up the pace.  

Hunter could feel Hannah traveling along the labyrinth of tubes in his gut like an internal massage. He almost felt like he could take a nap as he reclined in his chair; the small movements were very relaxing. He needed to keep a close watch over her location so he could retrieve her when the time came. He decided he would dilute the potency of his protective spell and knock her out so she wouldn’t be awake for the last stage. He didn’t want her to despise him more than she already did. 

Most of the school day was uneventful. While the police and his peers were suspicious of Hunter, there was no evidence against him, so his continued his day without incident. After lunch, Hunter’s last class was PE. Midway through the day he excused himself to use the bathroom and ditched class to go back to the dormitory. Since classes were still in session, he was alone with the privacy he needed. He dismissed his spell—maintaining just enough to keep her alive—and Hannah went limp inside him as he prepared a bath for her in the sink. He successfully rescued the unfortunate girl from his bowels and carefully stripped off her clothes, which were soaked with digestive fluids, to sanitize them. He tossed the unclean clothes in bleach and began to wash her in the sink. 

Hannah regained consciousness while Hunter was soaping her up, caressing her naked body with his giant fingers. At first, she wasn’t sure what was going on and she was too tired to care. After being in total blackness for almost two days, the bright light seared her eyes and made her head pound. The air felt too cold and she shivered. Hunter observed her trembling and wincing with pain, and a pang of guilt squeezed his heart. Despite all the horrible things he had done to her, he still loved her.  

“I’m… I’m sorry, Hannah,” he said softly, bending down so his face was hovering over the sink. He dunked her in the water to rinse off the soap and gingerly stroked her hair. Hannah heard his voice and bristled. 

“You’re sorry? Fuck you,” she spat, and began to cry again. “If you’re genuinely remorseful, then let me go and never come anywhere near me again.” 

Hunter gently encircled her in his fingers in a tender embrace. “You know I can’t do that.” Even though she looked clean, he lathered her up with more soap to be sure. Admittedly, he also wanted an excuse to feel up her nude body more. Her form was so beautiful, like a tiny angel. 

Hannah finally seemed to snap back to full reality and blushed hard with mortification when she realized she had no clothes on and Hunter was touching her. “What the hell, Hunter!” she shouted, squirming away from his fingers and clutching her breasts. 

Hunter reddened and dropped her into the water with a splash. “I-I had to get you clean,” he explained, averting his eyes. “I’ll go get your clothes ready.” He hastened over to the other sink full of bleach and scrubbed her uniform. The forest green paled to a light sage with the power of the cleaning chemical.  

As he dried the fabric under the hand dryer, Hannah used the opportunity to swim to the edge of the sink and climb out. She dashed to the edge of the counter and halted when she beheld the precipitous drop to the tiles below. If she jumped from this height, she wouldn’t survive the fall. She couldn’t escape, and she wasn’t ready to die. Hunter noticed her attempted escape and swiftly scooped her up in his fist. 

“LET GO!” Hannah screeched. “HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP!!”  

“There’s no point.” Hunter didn’t have to raise his voice to overpower her tiny screams. “We’re alone. Nobody’s coming to help you.” Hannah continued to yell at the top of her lungs, which annoyed the temperamental giant. He raised her to his mouth and bared his teeth in a threatening snarl. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll be forced to eat you again!” 

That threat silenced her. Her fiery resistance, along with all the color in her face, drained away and she wilted in his colossal fist like a dying flower.  

“There, that’s better,” Hunter cooed, petting her wet hair with his finger. She flinched, smoldering with hatred. He pulled away, his eyes soft with disappointment. Wordlessly, he dried her off with a towel and handed her the bleached uniform so she could cover herself. She threw it on, ashamed by her nakedness as he watched. 

“What about my shoes and socks?” she asked. 

“Oh, you don’t need those anymore,” Hunter stated as he tossed the miniscule footwear in the garbage. “You won’t need to walk anywhere, I’ll carry you. Can’t have you running away from me, after all.” 

“Hunter, please… let me go. You can’t keep me prisoner like this,” Hannah pleaded. She tried to keep her voice calm and steady, in the hope that she could reason with him, appeal to any pathos he may have buried in that brutal, hateful heart of his. She knew he still possessed some humanity within him—or at least she hoped so. “I… I promise I’ll keep it all a secret. We can stay friends. We’ll start with a clean slate. I mean, Hector saw good in you, so I’m sure I can too.” 

Hannah was lying, obviously, and Hunter knew it. When she mentioned Hector, he grimaced at the reminder that he had violated the simple boy’s trust and heartlessly wolfed him down like a tasty snack. “I can’t do that,” he responded in a cold monotone as he carried her to his bed. He sat down, laying back against the headboard on a pillow, and cradled Hannah against his chest. 

Hannah was struggling to maintain her composure. Her act crumbled as frustration bled into her words. “Why not?” She wriggled in his hand, but he simply tightened his grip around her. She couldn’t do anything to oppose him. 

“I just can’t.” Besides the fact that she’d go running off to the authorities first chance she got, he also didn’t want to lose her. 

His unlucky prisoner realized she couldn’t reason with him or fight him. She began to give up, collapsing with despair on his chest. She was too worn out to resist after her terrible ordeal. Hunter felt a spot of his uniform moisten with tears. Even though his touch brought her no comfort, Hunter caressed her tenderly. He felt guilty for making her sad, yet he appreciated being able to hold her so intimately, to show his love for her. She would never allow him to do this under normal circumstances. 

As Hannah wept, Hunter hugged her close. She was upset with him, and repulsed, but he clung to the hope that maybe he could get her to move past that. It might take time for her to accept her circumstances, and to accept him, but she was tied to him now whether she liked it or not. She belonged to him, forever. 

Chapter 41

Chapter 1

[anayaahwrites]

KOT Ficlet #7 (Kudou Chika/Houzuki Satowa)

The post chapter 110 ficlet I had promised ;)

Since I'm a little late, this is set in a hotel they're staying at for nationals.

This is more of an excuse to write them as hormonal teenagers because I can't do that in my longfic lmao.

⚠️: This is soft PwP majorly, so here's your rating warning! (Rated E for Explicit). Enjoy!

The world is conspiring against her today.

Satowa huffs, standing before the locked door of her room at seven in the evening, jiggling the doorknob at the tiniest hope of it unlocking itself somehow. 

But no, it's bolted shut with no give, and the master key was marvelously not available either. Granted, it was her fault. She was certain she knew Hiro’s sleep pattern well enough to predict when the girl would awaken, hence decided to leave her pair of keys in their shared room.

 She was evidently wrong. Satowa sighs, resigning to sit herself beside the door till she thought of something else. Not like she didn’t have enough of a jungle gym in her brain already.

It had been two weeks since they.... confessed which is putting it tamely given how they both yelled their feelings out to each other a day apart.

 Satowa had expected nothing in return. In that moment, she only remembers seeing red—when Chika bowed his head. She thought a hug was simple enough, something she could explain away later easily—it was a white lie, she was having a sunstroke, whatever works.

 But when forced to confess, Satowa had never fathomed his arms wrapping around her, head softly lying against her shoulder. She had never fathomed a reply—the same as hers, with a wide grin across his face—only the day after. 

 But the progression of events had led to Satowa wanting something more the day after that, like a monkey in an experiment being psychologically wired to demand more candy.

 She sighs, resting her head between her knees. Because nothing came. The next day, the day after the next. Even almost two weeks later, they were perfectly normal around each other. Something had changed in Chika, though. He'd become more... mature. His usually fiery eyes were more relaxed, a laid back light in them that watched her carefully, every hour of everyday. 

 Unsurprisingly, she wasn't the only girl to notice this change. Fifty percent of the school population now saw him, more than ever, as a boy put through horrible circumstances that he never deserved. Some of them cried and bought him lunches and chocolates as an apology for treating him like a criminal. 

 She was happy for him, when he shyly took their bargain. She really was. 

 Until it somehow turned into an 'everyday-is-valentines-day' fiesta and Chika's locker was exploding with gifts round the clock. That was a bit much.

 And Satowa had predicted him to yell at them to stop—for Christ's sake—throwing food his way as if he were a dying fish. The old Chika would do that. 

New Chika, however, simply pursed his lips, chucked the contents of his locker into a bag and offered it to everyone in the club later, insisting they take it home and not eat it here so as to not hurt anyone that the intended recipient wasn't the one taking them.

Satowa never accepts any, feeling a little jaded. “I don’t like sweet things,” is her excuse.

He'd told her he loved her back and for a while, she thought he did. But her confidence began to falter, now that the small smiles usually sent her way were public property. 

Maybe he really did love her as a friend and she misunderstood his kindness.

She buries her head deeper into her knees, groaning in irritation. The sound of jingling keys makes her raise her head in relief. Hiro-senpai you savior—

"What...." He eyes her, confused.

 "Uh...” Oh, great. Of all the people. "Locked my keys in the room." she smiles awkwardly.

 "The other pair?"

 "Hiro-senpai has it. She isn't in."

 She eyes her watch. Quarter past Seven. Judging by the breathless huffing, he was returning from an evening run. He wipes the sweat off his brow in a way Satowa thinks Kudou doesn't know is so scandalous.

 "Have you seen the practice room downstairs?"

 She would have, if her brain wasn't so full of him.

 "Wanna check it out now? Since you have time to kill?"

 "Why?" She hadn't meant to ask that out loud, but now that it was out of her mouth, she was curious.

 He furrows his brows. "Aren't you supposed to ask me where at this point?"

 "No," She reiterates, "I'm more interested in why."

 Instead of answering her directly, he rattles the keys in her face. "I'd booked it an hour ago. Thought I'd ask glasses, but he's out so..."

 Ah, so that’s where Hiro was. Satowa squints, repeating, "So?"

 "So," he ruffles his hair. "Accompany me?"

 She didn’t need to be told twice.

 While Chika busies himself in laying down the Kotos, something he insisted to do for her whenever he was around because 'You weigh half of it and I'd know since I've carried you before.'

 (She'd never understood how he suddenly was completely comfortable saying the weirdest things.) 

 "No, really," She tries, again. "Why?"

 He barely looks over his shoulder to shoot her a sheepish glare, playing with the hem of the Koto cover, and staying rooted to his spot. 

 “In case you decided to come with somebody else.”

 "Somebody else..." She narrows her eyes. "Hiro-senpai?"

 He scratches his neck, mumbling, "That guy's here..."

 "I'm going to need more description than that."

 "The flashy guy," he waves it off, as if he doesn't want to say it. "The one from Ichiei. The one that..." He exhales loudly. "The one that hugged you."

 She frowns, a little offended, "I'm pretty sure I can defend myself with a kick to the groin. I don't need you to protect me."

 "What? No? No!" He defends. "It's not that he'd do anything to you. If anything, I know how much your kicks hurt. I just...” He releases an exhausted sigh. "I don't think you realizes how much attention your—" He scans her frame and averts his gaze, panicked. “you gather."

 "I gather attention?” She looks appalled. "Yes, because I'm the person girls are flocking around like felines high on catnip."

 He quirks an eyebrow. "Does it bother you?"

 She's silent for a second. Then, "No." 

 "Are you sure?"

 "Positive."

 "I hope you know you look pissed."

 "That's just my face."

 His lips twitch into a teasing grin but he ultimately drops the topic. 

 Satowa hmphs as he lays the Koto before her. She places her fingers gingerly over the strings, humming a familiar tune.

 "That's not 'I'."

 "No, it's not, " She replies, lightly thrumming the notes. “It’s a piece I play when I don't feel great."

 "So you are pissed."

 She rolls her eyes.

 “At me?" He hazards a guess. 

 "Yes,” She glares at him, pressing down on the first note to drown both their voices out. "And no."

 When music fills the air, Chika sits before her in comfortable silence, listening to her express whatever it was she wanted to. The piece is a high pitched screech in comparison to Satowa's usual delicate notes, bordering between a sacrificial satanic ceremony organ and a frustrated banshee wail. 

It helps her channel all her grievances in one place, in a matter of minutes. At some point she forgets Chika is in the room but it doesn't matter because he's in every thought she has. 

His voice. His smell. His skin.

Somewhere in between, it transforms her music, into a soft vibrato of a ballroom waltz, like the push and pull of hands and mingling of bodies. She lets the sound calm her nerves. Remind her focus right now should be music and nothing else, like it has always been. One up or down should change nothing between them. 

She was dealing with it for all this time, she could sustain another few years if Satowa put her mind to it. 

"That...”  His voice cuts through her thoughts. "That sounded pained."

She nods.

"Uh... Are you okay?"

There were many answers to this question. She had done a lot of thinking in the past few days of how to approach the topic of... them. Even saying that sounded strange to her ears. 

He edges closer. "Hou—"

"No," She replies. Then a heartbeat later, "No. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

She nods her denial.

"Okay. Okay, that’s fine.”  He says, perplexed. "Let's begin with what's bothering you?"

Mostly you. 

When she doesn't reply, he does actually come closer to where she sits.

"I can't help you if you won't talk to me, Houzuki."

She looks at him over wet eyelashes, horrified at how her emotions were really out of control today. She swipes a hand across her eyes and avoids his concerned gaze. 

"I have a lot of things to think about." And you being unaware of my feelings or actively ignoring them really isn't helping. 

"That's a good start. Things like...?"

"Like how you're so casually avoiding everything that happened a mere two weeks ago." Before her mind catches up with her mouth, the words have been said and all she can do is slam a hand flush against her lips and hope to disappear into oblivion. 

The idea of Seppuku sounded very tempting right about now.

"I'm not."

"Not what?" She asks. 

"Not avoiding what happened that day,” He purses his lips. "I can't even if I want to."

She suddenly feels a whole lot more vulnerable, kneading fists into her lap. Oh great, she'd made everything even more awkward than it already was. He wasn't even looking at her. 

"Actually forget what I just said. I'm tired—" This is exactly why I needed alone time. "—with nationals coming and all."

"That's why I didn't mention it." He mumbles. 

"Mention what."

"That day... The confession..... Us. With nationals coming up, you'd want to focus on this. I know how passionate you are,”  His gaze softens. "I've always loved that about you."

The word sends a pleasant tingle down her spine. Us. We. Him and me. Love—

"You mean as a friend?"

"What?"

"Love me,” She repeats robotically. "As a friend."

He raises a brow, amused. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" He sighs, “Tetsuki, Glasses. Gosh, even Isaki." 

Satowa chokes on air. "I-Isaki-san knows?" 

"You're lucky you didn't have to answer her questions." His expression looks genuinely pained.

Satowa giggles at the image of Chika smothered by Isaki's bear hugs. His grin widens near impossibly at her. "It's been a while since you smiled normally at me. I've missed it."

"You've had your fair share of beautiful smiles, I think." The visual of girls batting their eyelashes at him turns her mouth sour. Chika is beautiful. She doesn't deserve him. "Enough for at least a decade."

"They aren't you.”

"No. They're better than me."

He looks at her, mouth hanging open like his jaw had unscrewed itself. "Do you genuinely believe that?"

She does. Satowa belonged from a boring world. She lived a mundane life; eating, practicing, sleeping, waking up, practicing, repeat. And Chika contrasted her completely, all wide amber eyes with an adventurous gleam in them.

She loved them so much, it was driving her crazy. And lately her obsession had gotten worse, not that she'd ever admit to it. 

"Did I make you feel that way..?" She wants to wipe the hurt off his face. Satowa rises off the floor, dusting her skirt off. 

I don't deserve you. 

"Don't pity me. I didn't want to push my feelings on you, either way. You saying I love you back there really saved me from the embarrassment. Thank you."

His jaw goes slack. His gaze remained glued to the floor as if it would turn to lava any minute.

He collects himself with a deep breath. "What about my behavior made you think I don't return your feelings?"

She doesn't understand the question. Because though Satowa had basically confessed her undying love and desire to stay by his side forever, she had not for once considered him feeling the same. 

So she shrugs, awkwardly. "I'm not worth the effort."

When his gaze lifts off the floor to meet hers, a chill runs up her spine. He looks conflicted, rubbing his neck in consideration . And somehow that makes her want to kiss him so bad her toes curl into themselves.

"You're not... worth the effort...” He reiterates, incredulous.

"Look I'm sorry for how things turned out,” She says, frantically trying to defuse the situation. "I can be a bullhead and say unnecessary things and this wasn't one of my brightest moments. So let's just forget this ever happened? Yeah?"

"How about no?” He replies, blankly. "I want to know what about that day and what the fuck about my confession made you think I haven't been in love with you for the longest time?"

"Look again, no need to—"

"No, you listen," He says, hovering dangerously close to her face, face dark with anger. “I meant what I said that day. I love you. Dammit—I ran back all the way because I was jealous out of my mind with scenarios of someone else finding you play, plus this room is soundproof and they could take advantage of that—like some petty idiot and here you are—"

"You what?” She asks, stunned. 

"—convincing me not to love you after you confessed first, by the way. You said you loved me—"

"Kudou...”

"No. Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, hot with anger. Well, hot in more ways than one. "You taught me that there was good in me, that I was redeemable in some way. Even though I've hurt people. I nearly killed Grandpa. "

"You know you didn't do it.” She consoles. 

 "Not until you came around, no. “He shakes his head. “Not until that day when you told me you wanted me to be happy, to not be hurt, to cherish me. Did the thought never cross your mind that maybe I felt the same?"

 She stares at him, blinking. No. It really hadn't because what really was lovable about her? She was a taciturn, obsessed Koto player that cared little outside of her small world.

Why would he—why would anyone love her?

"Oh my God,” He whispers. "You really didn't."

Satowa doesn't reply, she just feels small in front of his large frame towering over her.

"Th-that's because there's nothing you could see in me worth your while! I'm average looking at best, good at nothing except the instrument I've played since I was born. I haven't been on dates, I haven't...k-kissed... "

"Houzu—"

"I'm boring and dull and there's so many better people you could be spending time with because you're amazing and you're way too good looking to be wasting your time on me—"

"Houzuki listen to m—"

"And all these feelings you're feeling are temporary, just because I saved you. Maybe you're grateful for what I said—"

"Satowa."

She stills, both to the deep tone of his voice and the hand gripping her wrist firmly. Her vision goes all blurry; she can't really see him or anything around them, only feel his thumb stroking her palm in a continuous rhythm. 

"I'm sorry,” He says, finally. "I'm sorry I had no idea you've been feeling insecure this whole time. God, I really have my head way up my ass like Tetsuki says."

She laughs despite herself. She feels his hold tighten. 

"I never could imagine for a second that someone as perfect as you could feel this way."

“P-perfect?” 

"You've always been so balanced and confident, I thought I was the only one weighing my self-worth against your standards. I never felt enough for you because you're... You know, you; beautiful, brilliant, talented... I've been so stupid."

She purses her lips. "I'm really not what you make me out to be."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But does it really matter?" She looks up though her eyes felt like she'd doused them in vinegar. "You said you love me. And I definitely love you—no questions asked. Is that not enough for us both?"

"I....” She whispers. "You're right.... It should be."

He releases a long sigh. "So we've finally reached a conclusion?"

"I think.”

"That we may feel mutually undeserving but we still love each other and there's nothing we can do about that?"

"That sounds very embarrassing,” She hides her blush. "But yes."

"Okay. Good. Finally. "

The fingers curled around her wrist make Satowa feel something in the pit of her stomach, pulsating within as he draws closer into her space.

He wraps an arm around her waist, the other leaving her wrist to explore all the other places they could be. Up her arm, her shoulder, the crook of her neck, the flowing strands of her hair.

Satowa's lids drop, mouth opening in a small exhale. "What was that about the soundproof room?"

It's like her words flip a switch.

Instantly, he dives down to capture her lips, pulling her into him. She's so small in his arms, feeling the full height of him as if for the first time. Sensing her discomfort, he puts hands under her thighs, grabbing as she hops off the floor and into his grasp, ankles hooking behind his waist.

 "Jesus," he whispers, kissing down her neck like he'd devour her. "How are you so beautiful?"

She throws her head back, letting him nip at her skin. She'll be bruised by tomorrow, but nothing Hiro’s concealer can't hide. "I'm not..." She arches her back when his hands wander a little lower.

"Let me show you," he drawls, kissing her jaw up to her lips. "Let me show you just how beautiful you are to me."

Satowa's suddenly too warm in her blouse, holding her breath as the buttons fall open and his hands traverse inside, tracing the lines of her body. His palms are warm, thumb stroking the underside of her breast, raising goose bumps wherever he touches.

Her arms circle around his neck to sink into his hair, drawing him closer. Kudou walks them to a mahogany desk in the room, putting her carefully down as if she were spun of glass.

He breaks away to look into her eyes tentatively. Satowa whines, scrunching her face to appear as displeased as she feels. He laughs, pinching her nose. His finger moves over her features, swiping against her lips, her chin, her throat, her breast, her stomach.

Satowa's breath hitches in her throat.

Kudou looks at her through hooded eyelids. "Tell me to stop and I will," he says, turning his palm downward, pushing under the belt of her skirt. The expanse of his hand is the entire size of her waist; God, he's so large it's doing things to her. Satowa closes her eyes.

He cups her cheek with the other hand, gently lifting her chin to his gaze. “I need an answer."

She opens her mouth, tried to give him a verbal answer. When one finger touches her swollen lips, she can only manage a strangled moan before nodding furiously.

He goes painfully slow. So slow, that Satowa has to move herself to let him know she's strong enough to handle it. He doesn't relent.

"Kudou," she groans, opening her legs wider for him. "God, please I'm going to lose it."

Sensing her urgency, he puts another finger in. Satowa gasps, arching her back till she almost hits the desk. Kudou catches her in time, cradling her head softly.

He pumps slowly, letting the rhythm build within her. It's too much stimulation for her and Satowa bites back the sound threatening to rip its way out her throat.

He drags her arm away, shaking his head solemnly at her. "I want to hear you." He quickens his pace, drawing a shocked gasp from the girl. "I want to know what I'm doing to you."

"Please, please I'm —" Satowa throws her arm out like a child, begging for him to hold her. She doesn't know what she's feeling, but it’s strong, like a jug full to the brim. Like a chalice that's about to spill.

He responds immediately, wrapping one arm around her waist and holding her to his chest. The other hand goes faster and faster till Satowa bends, throwing her head back with a scream.

"Yes, yes. I'm so—" She's barely making any sense. "I don't know—I feel—yes, there, right there—" She pushes down on his fingers herself, feeling them touch a place that has her mouth hang open wordlessly.

Taking the cue, he searches for it and presses, deeper into her than before and Satowa screams, muscles rippling under her skin. She clenches her teeth, letting the wave send her body in a frenzy. It's over in a flash.

Satowa slumps in his arms, head thudding loudly against his chest. She's still for a moment.

"Hey." Kudou breaks the silence, wrapping an arm around her tighter. "You okay?"

She exhales, slowly blinking her eyes open to his worried gaze. Satowa taps on his shoulder, dragging him to her.

"Kiss." She commands like a petulant child. He replies, grinning, slowly rolling her lips into his mouth, rubbing her back in a motion that almost lulls her to sleep. 

"You're so beautiful," he says, playing with the strands of her hair that fall over his shirt. "The prettiest."

Satowa flushes, swatting at his hand before noticing something hard touch her core. She shudders on instinct, looking up at his sheepish gaze.

"We should...uhh...” Satowa offers vaguely, though she really doesn't know what to do.

"I'll...take care of it later." He replies, embarrassed.

"But we could—" He puts a finger over her lips, wincing in pain as she moves over him.

"Not yet," he groans, reaching down to kiss her desperately. "Today was just for you. I wanted you to see the depth of my feelings. Just what I want to do to you."

Her eyes darken again, she yanks him down by his collar, kissing a chain up his throat. He gulps.

"Then teach me next time," she touches the tent forming in his jeans. He whimpers, rubbing instinctively into her palm. "So I can understand what I want to do."

He nods frantically before moving away from her to breathe. It takes them both a moment to gather themselves before they decide to move. He helps Satowa off the table. Her feet wobble uncontrollably, an uncomfortable space forming between her legs. She grunts, smoothing the pleats of her skirt.

"Wanna play something?" Kudou gestures to the Koto, tapping at his watch. “We have another half hour left."

Though she'd love to just go up to her room and shower, Satowa can't deny the excitement in his eyes. She smiles. "Fifteen minutes."

His grin is the widest she's seen since the day he confessed.

They spend more of their time fooling around rather than really playing, not that Satowa minds.

Satowa doesn't really like sweet things, she concludes, unless it comes wrapped like a Christmas present under a tree in the form of a bright haired, bright smiled boy.

A candy named Kudou Chika.

[fishys-still-writing-smut]

Comparison: Battle of the Blondes, between Sonia and Miu whose better at twerking their phat ass for their boyfriends, Chihiro and Gundham respectively?

Warning: lewd content below

"What's wrong ya virgin, gonna cum already?" Miu teased in a confident tone. Normally Chihiro would have expected her to tease him like that, but instead of it being directed normally to her femboy boyfriend, it was instead given to the edgelord, as she rode his dick next to Chihiro. Well, not that Chihiro was that upset. How could he be, when he was fucking a future queen raw?

In order to understand the future, we must go back to where it all started, when Miu picked a fight with another "blonde bimbo" as she said, claiming that her ass was the biggest on campus. Sonia, of course, took great offense to that, and offered to settle their disagreement the classic Novoselic way.

With a twerking competition of course!

And it was painfully obvious that Sonia was the winner. Not only was her ass phatter, but she had much more experience shaking it for Gundam than Miu had shaking it in general. With each shake her plump cheeks jiggled and made an irresistible clapping noise. Sonia was surprisingly flexible, able to shake her juicy ass while bent over in a variety of positions, exposing not only the overwhelming size of her bubble butt, but also her excited creamy pussy. She even gave Chihiro a mini private show in between her many lap dances for Gundham, rubbing her huge ass over Chihiro's bulge while moaning lewdly (this also gave Sonia Chihiro's vote for best twerker, but he stayed quiet as to not upset Miu).

Miu, watching her boyfriend be seduced by a twerker much better than her, was forced to lay down her trump card. She expected to perform this on Chihiro, but anyone would do at this point considering the desperate situation. She yanked off the bottoms of the local Chūnibyō, much to the surprise of everyone else, and began her master plan…twerking on a dick! After all, Miu was in her element while being fucked by a slut, a fact everyone knew very well by this point. She began clapping her ass in the same way Sonia did, but also did so while riding Gundham's cock, all while staring at the princess with a smug grin.

Sonia, sensing the attack on her pride, decided to up the ante as well. She looked hornily as Chihiro, who quickly got the hint and removed his bottoms as well. She then smiled happily before inserting Chihiro into herself, bouncing on his cock with the same slutty energy as Miu. She twerked on Chihiro's cock while he was balls deep inside of her, even slapping her ass for good measure. The fire in her eyes was lit as she was determined not to lose to Miu.

And that's how a simple comparison turned into a milking competition. Though, most of the blame could be placed on Miu, who was just looking for an excuse to get dicked down by absolutely anyone, regardless of circumstance. Not that Sonia was a complete angel either, as after the 2nd creampie Chihiro left inside of her she completely forgot about one upping Miu and only focused on Chihiro's third load being shot inside of her. As with most things, when sex gets placed on the table all animosity disappears.

Though, rumor has it that Miu still hasn't gotten over the fact that Sonia is a better twerker than her, and will fuck the nearest person out of anger whenever it gets brought up. Though, with how petty Miu is, did you expect any different?