#this turned out way longer than i intended it to

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀(𝐑)𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑

summary: ever since dating sebek, it seems you have not just landed yourself a boyfriend but also a personal knight

pairings: sebek x gn! reader

warnings: just fluff

a/n: a small blurb to air my feelings for the croc while i wait for my wrists to get better, so i can tackle bigger projects; i wanted to make this a hc-style post but i think i unlearned how to do that

twisted wonderland masterlist

Sebek is your knight in shining armour and, well, he definitely gives the job his utmost dedication. In terms of priorities, you’re right up there with Malleus, Lilia and Silver. Not that he’d ever -willingly- tell you that out loud, but it’s pretty obvious to everyone with eyes.

In terms of gentlemanliness, he brings out the big guns. True to textbook and the teachings of Lilia and Baur, Sebek will carry your bag(s) or textbooks without accepting much protest. He’s a personal guard for the great Malleus-sama, a weight as little as this is trivial to him! It’s best to just accept his service with a smile and a thanks.

The same goes for him holding doors open for you or protecting your head with his hand when you bend down to pick something up. While Sebek usually takes some time to read the room or grasp the context of a conversation at hand, he is very attentive when it comes to you. Not only does he take note of your preferences, he also makes sure you don’t forget or neglect to eat and drink enough. Given his training as a knight, he’s well acquainted with a healthy diet and keeps an eye on if you meet the recommended nutrient intake too. And Seven help the person who has the gall to actually disrespect you, Sebek will raise hell, his weapon and his volume if that’s what it takes to defend you.

By spending enough time with you, he also memorises your routines, almost without actually intending to. Sebek also listens to you intently, taking some matters more seriously than you even, and checks in on you throughout the day, especially when you told him about certain appointments. When it comes to any changes in your mental health, he might not pick up on it as fast as on any physical injuries, but you bet he is just as protective about it. His attempts to cheer you up might be a little clumsy, but they’re so genuine it already makes you feel better just through his effort alone. If he could physically fight your doubts and insecurities, you can bet that he would without hesitation.

At the end of the day, Sebek would try to help you with nearly everything to the best of his abilities, even if what you’re asking of him is outside of his strengths. You want to wear your hair a certain way? He has never tried to do anyone’s hair before but he will try to recreate the tutorial you have shown him, even if his fingers shake. Sure, he has never repotted a plant or taken care of one for longer periods of time, but just tell him what to do and he will follow your instructions. With his earnestness and determination to learn and his drive to help you, his attempts turn out at least decent in the majority of cases. Just don’t tease him when he doesn’t get it quite right the first time around.

For Sebek, his behaviour goes without saying. He’s your partner, of course he wants to support you in any way he can and to consider your welfare and feelings in what he does. Anything else would be ludicrous and inexcusable for someone of his standing. If you, however, show him any kind of affection in return for his attentiveness, he becomes utterly bashful. Tell him how much you appreciate his help or give him a grateful kiss on the cheek and watch him turn beet red as he stutters through his next sentence. In the literal heat of the moment, Sebek might blurt out something nonsensical but please know that your endorsement means everything to him and warms his heart. It may also boost his ego juuuuuust a smidge~

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not feed my writing to an ai

if you like my writing, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated  ♡

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twisted wonderland: @scint1llat3 @honehbee42 @savanaclaw1996

[healedlover]

CLICKBAITED!

summary: in which your co worker ends up inside you... in front of the camera. pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader cw: camboy!nanami, p in v, dirty talk, Masturbation, Sex toys, one night stand, perv nanami, cumming inside a/n: not proof read and finally wrote camboy nanami

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

“Today is going to be a quick stream, alright?”

The chat sent sad faces and other messages showing their disappointment and Nanami just chuckled as he unbuckled his pants.

“My first day of work is tomorrow, I…ngh…won’t have time to get ready.”

His fingers continued the slow movements on his cock as he watched the chat donate and send a bunch of messages. Nanami adjusted his mask before changing the video on his second monitor, so he could cum quicker.

But nothing was working, he let out a small whine as he continued clicking to the next page, quicker and quicker so he could find an appealing video.

"Keep the donations...going"

guest1 donated $500: strip plz!!!

"Yeah? You want me to take off my shirt, hm?" Nanami teased, his free hand roamed on his tight collared shirt and he plucked each button off, one by one.

"Is this what you wanted?"

guest127: yesss

guest2: faster! yes!

"Oh? the last button is stuck." Nanami frowned, glancing at the chat before ripping his entire shirt off, revealing his bare chest. The chat exploded with excitement. Nanami grinned as the praises and compliments started to roll in.

His fingers tightened around his cock as he movements grew quicker, more intense, and now, finally, he was close to release.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He moaned.

with one final stroke a streak of cum spurted all over his stomach. He left out a few breathless pants as he slumped down on his chair. The stream continued to donate and chat amongst themselves as he watched Nanami's tired state in the chair.

"Thats it for today. Tomorrow, I'll be trying something different, okay? Goodnight."

stream over.

Nanami cleaned himself up and shut off his computer for the night.

The next morning rolled along and it was his first day of an actual job–outside of fucking himself in front of a camera–and he was nervous.

After a stressful ten minute drive, Nanami walked in the building and headed to the correct room. He fixed the tie on his suit before walking in.

-

The door clinked open and you glanced up from your desk and noticed an unfamiliar face walk in, and god, he was gorgeous. You peered at the man longer than you intended to, until your eyes met.

You flinch and avert your gaze away from him.

"Yo, Nanami Kento, right?" The boss's voice interrupted the silence filling the room, the so called man–Nanami, nodded and glanced at you one more time before turning his body to the boss.

He was led to a place to an office desk and of course, he was two seats away from you. You sigh and sit back on your chair before getting back to your work.

-

Nanami felt like his cock was going to burst, he didn't expect to see someone so...good looking on his first day of work. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, imagining your outfit again.

The way your breasts fit perfectly in your tight shirt, showing a good amount of cleavage, and how your beautiful eyes stared right at him...Oh, Nanami needed you as soon as possible.

He opened his eyes and looked around the room before getting up and making his way to the bathroom. He walked past your desk and took another glance at you before stumbling into the bathroom.

"Fuck.. I feel like 'm gonna explode" Nanami muttered to himself. He brought his trembling fingers to his belt and quickly unbuckled it, soon pulling his pants down, revealing his throbbing, hard cock.

"Damn y-you!" He whispered as his fingers curled around his creamy mushroom head, he deliberately continued to loudly stroke himself while thinking about you and he felt like he was going to cum in seconds.

“Shit, shit shiiiittt” Nanami sighed and removed his fingers from his dripping heat, he stared at the huge mess coated on his fingers and let out a quiet groan before grabbing some tissues and cleaning himself up.

After an excruciating five minutes of trying to get himself—and the stall—cleaned up he finally finished and walked out the bathroom, praying nobody heard him.

Nanami headed back to his office desk, walking the same direction from before and took another quick glance at you… how was he going to talk you into getting in bed with him?

When the work day ended Nanami packed up his things and was so close to talking to you…but you seemed to have already start leaving so instead Nanami just headed home.

He had another stream planned tonight and decided he was going to use sex toys for it, the problem was, he had none. So after he put his stuff away at home Nanami was planning to buy some at a store nearby.

Some time passed and Nanami was leaving the house, half dressed, to go pick up some sex toys.

He walked to the store and was met with a variety of different types of toys. Nanami scanned around the room before picking a couple of his interest and left.

When he got home he placed his things on his desk and put his mask on before logging into the site and started the stream momentarily.

stream started

Nanami sat back on his seat and watched as people started to roll in the stream. The chat was already blaring with a bunch of messages, asking him what he’s gonna do and such.

“Calm down, today I bought some toys..and im not sure which one to use so I need your help okay?”

guest127: ohh yes, show us!!

Nanami nodded and flipped the bag over the table, letting all the toys he bought scatter on the small space.

“Highest donor will choose which one I use, how is that?”

The chat agreed and he nodded, unbuttoning his shirt as he watched the donors start donating.

“Ten seconds…”

The money started getting larger and larger and finally at the last second a random person donated a good three thousand dollars.

Nanami let out a whistle and lowered the camera showing the toys on display.

“Choose any.”

guest127: pocket pussy?

“Mmh… I’ll try.”

Nanami shoved the other toys off his desk and stood up from his chair and slowly pulled his pants down, aligning himself with the toy.

He slowly shoved his dripping tip in the silicone pussy and let out a groggy moan. He continued thrusting himself deep inside it and immediately his mind wandered to you again.

Dazed at the pleasure he was feeling he also imagined this stupid toy was you. Nanami tried imagining how your tits would bounce at his immense thrusts he’s giving you.

Or how his cock would fit perfectly in your tight cunt,

Well fuck. He needed you, bad.

guest2: fuck this is hot

Nanami was close to release and he tried to hold it in, he really did, but after one final thrust a wave of shock jolted through him.

Out of instinct, a moan of your name slipped out of his lips and silently scolded himself before pulling himself out of the toy, watching all his cum spill out of it.

Nanami plopped on the chair, absolutely drained from the embarrassingly good sex he had with his toy and stared at the screen which was filling up with donations and such.

He told the stream he'd see them tomorrow and ended it off for the night.

The next morning at work, he swore he was going to talk to you and someway drag you into his bed, or stream, whatever it was he was going to do it.

The thought of your cunt wrapping around his throbbing cock as he pounded into you, turned Nanami on before he even walked into the workplace.

when he stepped in he noticed you were sitting at your desk, and glanced at the other two cubicles next to yours and noticed nobody was sitting next to you, yet.

So he hesitantly walked up to the front of your desk and stared at you for a few moments before you lifted your head away from your phone and looked up at him, with the exact same eyes from yesterday.

Nanami twitched at the sight and cleared his throat before greeting you.

And so the conversation went exactly how nanami expected it to.

It went perfectly.

-

"Alright, I'll see you tonight then?" you ask one more time. Nanami nodded and said his goodbyes before heading back to his cubicle.

You ponder in your seat for a moment, he was awfully good at flirting and the way his smooth voice talked you into meeting up with him tonight was something you couldn't resist.

Though you both barely know each other it was difficult to deny a pretty face like that, and yet again just one night wouldn't be bad. I mean like he said, it was only going to be a one time thing.

You let out a nervous sigh and stare at the paper where his address was written, dreading for the time to come.

Hours passed and work was already over. you were sitting down in your kitchen, already ready with the outfit you were planning to wear to Nanami's house.

After a ten minute walk you finally get to Nanami's place, which was surprisingly a decent looking place. You knock on the door and a few seconds pass and the door flung open revealing Nanami who had no shirt, but a mask on.

"Hi Kento"

"Hey, come in." Nanami dragged you inside his place and led you to his room. The second you walked in you were met with a huge desk with a couple monitors lying on it. the screens showed a reflection of the two of you in the room.

"you're okay with this, right?" he asked, pointing his fingers towards the set up of his live streaming stuff.

you nod and he smiled in response. Nanami then grabbed onto you and pressed you against the desk. His large figure loomed behind you as he rocks his hips back and forth against your ass.

"wai–mmph we're already starting?"

"sorry, I've been waiting for this moment since I laid eyes on you...fuck. c'mere." In a quick second Nanami flipped you over and grinded himself on you again.

moans and whines filled the room as he increased the pace. eventually his fingers ended up under the waistband of your pants and he slipped them down, revealing your bare legs in your laced panties.

Nanami almost came at the sight, he was trying to hold himself back from taking things too quick but you were making it ten times more difficult.

Nanami glanced at the screen behind you and chuckled, "look at that, the donations are going crazy."

You then felt your panties being removed and Nanami brought his fingers to your soaking cunt, which was already dripping from the situation happening right now.

"Shit." Nanami muttered, slipping his fingers out of you and removed his pants, aligning his cock with your soaking entrance, slowly thrusting himself inside you.

The chat was going crazy, and Nanami wasn't even focused on anything except you. He grabs onto you and pulls you closer as he quickens the pace inside you.

Nanami leaned over you and he pushed his full length inside you, leaving you to arch your back in pleasure. A scoff escaped his lips and he was already going insane.

This was way better than the fake one.

"'m gonna c-cum!" you moan as you grab onto his arms, he nodded and his mask started slipping off slowly but he didn't care. Instead, he took his mask off and placed it on your face.

guest127: ohh shit hes hot

"You look so good with my–mask–mghh...on.. 'm gonna cum! fuckk.."

A wave of shock sparked through you when white beads spurted out of Nanami and he pulled out, watching as his and your mixture coat his cock perfectly.

He sighed and plopped on top of you, breathing heavily. He lifted up the mask on your face and leaned in closer giving you a small kiss before pulling away and glancing up at the stream.

"thank you for the donations... see you guys next stream, yeah?"

stream over

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

[jazzy96scorpio]

The Weight of Longing

Description: Girl [You] gets majorly hooked on her Step dad Joel..Things get super awkward when he catches her...humping a pillow. Forbidden feelings, power plays, and a whole lot of messed-up tension follow.

Pairing: You / Step dad! Joel Miller

Warnings ⚠️: Adult Content, Minors do not interact, explicit sexual content, age gap (Sorry not sorry, unspecified), mean! Joel, dominance/submission, infidelity, oral sex (fem. rec), unprotected sex, first time sex (virgin!), SMUT.

Note: If you're easily shocked, maybe grab a pillow to hide behind (or, you know, use for other purposes). Just remember, this is all fiction 😉 Well, don't say I didn't warn you!

P.S. This story contains a significant age gap and some really filthy stuff. If that's not your thing feel free to skip this one. No judgment here!Now, go forth and get your fictional freak on!

Fic inspired by video of @daddyyss

The screen door slams behind you, the familiar whine of its spring echoing through the yard. Joel's out back, his broad shoulders hunched as he works, the shovel biting into the earth.

'Hey,' you say, your voice a little louder than intended. 'What are you doing?'

He straightens, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes, a shade of grey that always seem to hold a storm, flicker over you. 'Your mom wanted some flowers planted. She's at your grandma's. She'll be back tonight.'

'Oh.' You knew Grandma hadn't been feeling well. 'Is she okay?'

'She'll be fine.' His tone was clipped, dismissive. 'Where have you been?'

'The lake,' you replied, 'with some friends.'

'I hope you weren't fucking around and drinking,' he said, his voice hard. 'You know I don't approve of that shit. And your mom's gonna be pissed.'

'I didn't do anything bad,' you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

'Get me a beer,' he ordered, turning back to his digging. 'And go study or something.'

You bring him the beer, the cold bottle sweating in your hand. He takes it with a grunt, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. 'I'll order a pizza,' he says, his voice rough. 'For dinner.'

'Okay,' you manage, and retreat to your room, the image of his broad shoulders and the way his worn shirt stretched across his back burned into your mind.

You remembered the first time you saw him. Your mom had brought him home, a surprise, a man she'd been seeing. He was older, yes, but undeniably handsome. His huge hands, the way his worn t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, the rough, almost dangerous look in his brown eyes, the salt-and-pepper curls that framed his face – it was all so different from the boys you knew. A thrill, forbidden and exciting, had shot through you.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him. The way he moved, the sound of his voice, even his gruff criticisms – it all fueled a growing obsession. You wanted him, a raw, desperate need unlike anything you'd ever felt for any boy you'd kissed or dated.

Inside, you try to distract yourself, scrolling through your phone, but his presence fills the room, a phantom sensation. You can't shake the feeling of his eyes on you, the way his voice rumbled when he spoke. A wave of heat washes over you, a restless energy that settles low in your belly. You find yourself thinking about him, about the way he moves, the strength in his arms.

The feeling intensifies, a raw, undeniable desire. You grab a pillow, burying it between your legs and begin to move, the friction a poor substitute for what you crave. Your breath hitches, your body arching, lost in a haze of imagined touches. You imagine his hands on you, his lips on your skin, his dick inside you..

Suddenly, the air shifts. A shadow falls across you. You freeze, your heart slamming against your ribs. You hadn't heard the knock. You hadn't heard the door open. Joel stands in the doorway, his expression a mask of anger.

Panic floods you. You scramble to lie down, pulling the blanket up to your chin, your face burning with shame and fear.

He asked, his voice low and dangerous, 'What the hell are you doing?'

'Nothing,' you stammer, your voice thick with tears.

His expression hardens. 'Don't lie to me. I saw what you were doing.' The words hang in the air, heavy with accusation.

A wave of shame washes over you, so intense it feels like a physical blow. Tears stream down your face, hot and stinging. You can't meet his eyes.

'I caught you again, you little slut,' he drawls. The words cut deep, a reminder of a previous moment he caught you.

Just like in the bathroom, a few weeks back, you think, the memory flashing through your mind: behind the door, the desperate, hurried touches, the sudden creak of the handle turning, his silhouette filling the doorway, his eyes cold and unforgiving. He had watched you then, too.

He steps closer, his presence filling the room, suffocating you. 'Why are you doing that, huh? Imagining some of your fuckboys?'"

You told him, your voice trembling, 'No, Joel. I'm not… I wasn't…' You couldn't bring yourself to say it, to admit the truth that burned in your chest. The thought of him, the forbidden desire, was a shameful secret you couldn't bear to reveal.

His expression darkened. 'Are you fucking around with some boys, huh?' he demanded, his voice rising.

You remained silent, tears streaming down your face.

'I'm gonna punish you for that behavior,' he said, his voice hard. He stepped closer to the bed, his shadow looming over you. With a swift movement, he yanked the blanket away, leaving you exposed. 'You need a lesson, lady. A lesson on how to behave in my house.'"

He told you to get up, his voice leaving no room for argument. He gripped your arm, his hands surprisingly strong, and pulled you onto his lap.

You were surprised, a flicker of fear mixing with a strange, undeniable thrill. His touch, though rough, sent a shiver down your spine.

He slapped your ass, the sharp sting echoing in the quiet room. 'I told you not to lie to me,' he growled.

'I'm sorry, Joel,' you whispered, your voice thick with tears.

'Tell me the truth,' he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. 'Who were you imagining, little slut? You were so horny you were humping a pillow, huh?'

The words hung in the air, raw and humiliating. You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, in a rush, the truth spilled out. 'You, Joel…I want you…'

A low growl rumbled in his chest, followed by a harsh, almost triumphant laugh.

He says, a smirk playing on his lips, 'I know it, sweetheart. I've noticed the way you look at me.' He slaps your ass again, harder this time, the sting bringing tears to your eyes.

'You want Daddy's cock, don't you?' he asks, his voice low and suggestive.

You can only nod and hum in response, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and desire.

'Turn around,' he commands. As you turn, his right hand drifts down, settling on the damp fabric of your panties.

He gently rubs against your soaked pussy, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. 'So wet for me, aren't you?' he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. 'Just thinking about me makes you leak like this.'

A moan escapes your lips, a sound you can't suppress. You arch your back, pressing yourself against his hand, craving more of his touch.

'Mmm, that's it,' he whispers, his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh beneath the wet material. 'You're a dirty little thing, aren't you? So eager for Daddy's attention.'"

You whisper, your voice thick with desire, 'Yes, Daddy. I need you so bad… please…'

He kneels before you, a predatory smile playing on his lips. With a slow, deliberate movement, he removes your soaked panties, his eyes never leaving yours. 'Such a needy little thing,' he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement. 'Begging for it.'

He lowers his head, his breath hot against your swollen clit. His tongue darts out, licking the sensitive flesh, then swirling around your entrance. A moan escapes your lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He begins to suck harder, his mouth a warm, wet suction, pulling and teasing. 'That's it,' he growls against your core.

'Come for your Daddy,' he growls against your core. 'I wanna taste it.' He grips your breast, his thumb circling your nipple, as he continues to lick your clit, slowly slipping a finger inside you.

You’re overwhelmed, a wave of sensation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. No one has ever touched you like this.

He continues to stroke you with his fingers, then slips another one inside, stretching you, teasing you. “So tight,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “So fucking wet.”

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense. Tears stream down your face, a mix of pleasure and raw emotion. You moan, gripping the sheets, your body arching beneath him. He swirls his tongue around your clit, and you shatter, your pussy walls clenching around his fingers, soaking him in your juices.

He pulls his fingers out, licking them clean. 'Mmm,so sweet babygirl.' he says, his eyes gleaming. 'You're such a good girl for your Daddy.'

He stands up, the sound of his belt buckle echoing in the room.

He unzipped his pants, and with a swift movement, pulled off his shirt. His chest and shoulders were broad and powerful, the muscles defined in the dim light. He exuded a raw strength that made you catch your breath.

He pulls down his pants and boxers, his erection springing free. He looks at you, his eyes dark and hungry, as he strokes his huge cock with his hand.

The thick shaft is already rock-hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. 'You want this, little slut, huh?' he growls. 'Let me hear it! Beg for it, you little whore!'

He leans closer, spreading your legs wider, and positions himself between them. He teases your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your slick lips. 'Tell me what you want,' he commands.

'I want you, Daddy,' you whisper, your voice thick with desire. 'Only you, please.'

'Has anyone fucked you before?' he asks, his voice laced with suspicion.

'No, Daddy,' you breathe. 'I've been a good girl.'

A predatory smile spreads across his face. 'You're gonna be mine, baby girl,' he murmurs. He leans down and kisses you roughly, the force of the kiss sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He trails kisses down your neck, sucking on your breasts, teasing your nipples until they’re hard and aching.

He positions himself at your entrance, guiding his cock with his right hand. He slowly pushes the tip inside, the burning pleasure bringing tears to your eyes. 'I know, baby girl,' he whispers, his voice surprisingly gentle. 'Be good for Daddy.' He pulls back slightly. 'Let me in, sweetie. Daddy wants you so bad. Daddy's gonna make you feel so good.'

You nod, your body trembling. He cups your face in his hand and kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours. Then, with a swift, hard thrust, he pushes himself inside, stretching you, filling you completely. He’s so big, it hurts, a sharp, burning pain that makes you gasp. You shake a little, tears streaming down your face.

'I need to move,' he growls, his voice thick with lust. 'Daddy wants to fuck this tight pussy.' He glances down at the junction of your bodies, his eyes gleaming at the sight of the blood and your juices coating his cock. “So fucking tight,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”

He begins to move, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and force. “You like that, don’t you, baby girl?” he pants. “You like Daddy fucking you?” He grips your hips, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. “Tell me you like it!” he commands. “Tell me you’re Daddy’s little whore!"

You told him, your voice a broken whisper, 'Yes, Daddy… I love it… I'm yours… Fuck…'

He began to thrust faster, his eyes fixed on your breasts, watching them bounce with each powerful stroke.

He wiped the tears from your face, he leaned down and kissed you, his lips bruising and demanding. 'You take me so good,' he growled. 'Such a good girl. You belong to me.'

He pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you whimper. 'Turn around,' he commanded. You obeyed, and he slapped your ass cheeks, the sting sending a jolt of heat through your body.

'Lift your ass for me, sweetheart' he said, his voice thick with lust. 'Daddy's gonna fuck you from behind. You're mine to use however I want.'

He entered you again, this time rougher, deeper. He grabbed your butt cheeks, squeezing them hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He gripped your hair, pulling your head back, and whispered in your ear, 'From now on, you're mine, little slut. You'll be punished every time you try to touch yourself, or hump that pillow, baby girl. This is my pussy now. Daddy's gonna take care of it."

“You’re gonna scream my name, aren’t you?” he whispered harshly.

You told him 'Yes, Daddy. I'm yours to command.' Your body trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. He began to fuck you harder, his thrusts powerful and relentless.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He felt your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing him tight.

You came again, your juices soaking him, mixing with the pre-cum that still clung to his shaft. “Mine,” he growled. “All mine.”

He gave a few final, powerful thrusts, then groaned as he came inside you, his hot cum filling you completely. He glanced down at the junction of your bodies, watching as your mingled fluids dripped down your legs. “You’re so fucking mine,” he whispered, his voice thick with possessiveness.

“No one else will ever touch you like this. You’re my personal fucktoy darling."

He lay down on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He hugged you close, still buried deep inside you. “You’re my dirty little secret,” he murmured in your ear. “And Daddy’s gonna keep you safe.

"You’re never gonna forget this, are you?

You whispered a quiet "No, Daddy."

"You're branded, little slut.”

He pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more.

Then he lay beside you, his arm draped possessively across your waist. “You’re mine, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I don’t want any other little boy touching you. Do you understand me?"

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m gonna be only yours.”

He leaned down and kissed you, a slow, deep kiss “Good girl,” he murmured against your lips. “You know, you’re… you’re the only one who can make me feel this way. You’re so fucking perfect, so sweet and dirty all at once, babygirl.”

He pulled the blanket over you. “I’m gonna prepare a bath for you,” he said, his voice softening slightly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, a mix of emotions swirling within you. You lay in bed, the sensations still lingering, a strange mix of pleasure and guilt. You’d gotten what you wanted. You’d finally had him.

After he finished preparing the bath, he returned and lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

The doorbell rang, a sudden, jarring sound. He looked surprised. “Pizza’s already here” he muttered. “Maybe that's your mom. Come downstairs after your bath.”

You nodded, and he left.

When you finally made your way downstairs, your legs aching and unsteady, you saw your mom. You tried to act normal, to keep your composure, but your body betrayed you. You could barely walk, the soreness a constant, throbbing reminder of what had just happened.

As you saw your mom, she immediately noticed something was off. She asked, her voice laced with concern, 'Are you alright?'

Joel watched you, taking a slow sip of his beer, his expression unreadable.

'I'm fine, Mom,' you said, trying to sound casual, 'just a little tired.' You quickly changed the subject. 'How's Grandma?'

'She'll be fine,' your mom replied.

'I'm hungry,' you said, grabbing a slice of pizza. 'I'm going to take this to my room. I need to study for my class tomorrow.'

She nodded, but her expression tightened. 'You could have at least made dinner,' she said, her voice sharp. 'It's easy to just order pizza.' She was always like this, quick to criticize.

She started to complain, her voice rising, 'You're so lazy. Always going out, always locked in that room.'

Suddenly, Joel spoke up, his voice low and firm, cutting through her rant. 'Maria, that's enough. Leave her be. She's tired.' He defended you.

You saw the opportunity, going back to your room, anger simmering beneath your skin. You could hear them arguing downstairs, Joel's voice a low rumble, your mother's a sharp, insistent whine. 'She needs to learn,' your mom's voice rose, 'She is not a child anymore.' Joel responds, 'Maybe you should try being a mother instead of a warden.'"

Mom snapped, her voice sharp and laced with resentment. 'Well, you're not her dad! She's my daughter, and she's going to listen to me!'

Joel, surprisingly, managed to calm her down, his voice low and soothing. After a while, he left the living room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Curled up in bed, you felt a wave of self-loathing wash over you. Useless. Worthless. It was the middle of the night, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being completely alone.

A soft knock startled you. It was Joel. He entered, holding a glass of water and a small pill. 'You need to take this, plan B.' he said, his voice gentle. 'I'll get you some birth control soon.'

He pulled you into a warm hug, his hand stroking your hair. He kissed you softly on the forehead. 'I'll take care of you,' he murmured. 'You're a good girl. Don't take your mother's words to heart.'

'She's right, though,' you whispered, your voice thick with tears.

'No, baby girl,' he said, his voice firm. 'You're great.' He paused, then added, 'I love you.' He hugged you tightly.

'I love you too,' you replied, your voice barely audible.

He leaned and kissed you knew more time, gently cupping your face with his hands "Good night babygirl, now rest..See you tomorrow."

"Good night Joel. Thank you." you whispered.

He left, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He loves you. The words echoed in your mind, a strange mix of exhilaration and disbelief. You couldn't believe what had just happened. One moment, you were humping a pillow, lost in a fantasy, and the next, he was here, in your room, confessing his love.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. You were happy, undeniably so. The physical intimacy, the possessive way he’d claimed you, the whispered promises – it was intoxicating. But beneath the surface, a tremor of fear lingered. Was this real? Was this love, or something else entirely? The power dynamic, the way he’d taken control, the harsh words mixed with tender touches… it was confusing, unsettling. You felt like you were walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. You closed your eyes, the image of his face, his eyes dark and intense, burned into your mind. You were his, he’d made that clear. And a part of you, a dark, hidden part, reveled in the thought.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Tags: @lanaispunk @probablyreadinsmut @joelmillerpascal

Please like and leave a comment.❣️

Write me if you want part two 😉

[legallyfem]

💐 — I’m just a girl…

awkward/lover boy travis x oblivious reader

♪ ⁺ ➺ new upload! ⌢ 　　⠀ 𝜗𝜚ㅤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ﹏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀°(ˊ ᵔ ˋ )°　　⠀���!　　⠀

∿⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𓉸ྀི⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀ 𓈒⠀⠀⠀⠀wc :: 619⠀ᥘ⠀ׄ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀warnings :: fem reader intended, fluff　　୧

➺ ✿ ̣̣͙ a/n :: woah. i haven’t posted since the 2nd… HEY YALL!!! i’m gonna be going on a travis like rant so i’m gona post like 5 travis fanfics don’t be mad at me… he’s just been my favorite character for like weeks on end and i need to get this off my chest. I WONT ABANDON U GUYS AGAIN I PROMISE აㅤㅤㅤㅤ

⠀⠀rules ⠀⠀masterlist

you and travis had a well established friendship… relationship? who knows. friends since middle school, you guys would always tell each other everything, but it always felt like there was something he wouldn’t tell you or he would sometimes ignore you the whole day, sitting alone at lunch while u stood behind him and slightly tugged at his shirt sleeve to sit with you.

(he really just had feelings for you and was a total drama queen about it.)

travis was always a closed off person and often avoided human contact as much as possible. he could be a complex person sometimes but it just takes a while to get to know him to understand him better.

most people just think he’s weird or only know him by the title flex (which he absolutely hates) or just ‘the coaches son’, which is better than flex. he’s okay with not being one of the most popular people there. after all, he really had all he needed, someone he could lean on, decent grades, and a friend that could double as a tutor! (you are the ‘tutor’ in question) what else could he need?

ever since you to met back in 5th grade, he’s had feelings for you, but he knew you were a bit.. hard in the head? and it took a while for you to understand certain feelings, so he just didn’t even try to confess.

he did try to make some moves though, like holding your hand for a bit longer than normal, sharing rations of food, hugs lasting a big more longer and he tried his best to make them feel more passionate, to maybe be a hint that he feels something for you.

he was always scared you didn’t feel the same way, but he also knew it wasn’t totally impossible because you were really never involved in any guy drama or have ever had any crushes from 5th grade all the way to your sophomore year in high school. he always found it weird because he thought this was the women’s ‘peak’ of crushes but he never spoke on it.

he is very insecure and very careful on everything that he does that involves you. he tries to not make things awkward but it’s in his nature. any conversation could quickly become awkward, but also quickly revive with how fast topics flow when he’s around you. you to could talk about anything for hours and he would never get bored. he cannot hold eye contact to save his life though. he’s always looking down at something or looking away, and if he is able to look you in the eye it’s because he either is fidgeting with a pencil or just a random rubber band.

like stated, he’s tried multiple times to try to get the hints accorded that he has some sort of feelings.

“oh, hey, [reader]. you look pretty today…” he mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck, watching you sit down next to him with a smile on your face.

“oh, thank you travis! i tried some new things today.” you said, putting a loose strand of hair behind your ear as u got your stuff out of ur bag, waiting for class to start.

during this same class, he would make moves by moving his seat closer to your, interlocking his pinky with yours for a slight second before quickly moving his hand away and acting like nothing happened.

“what was that?” you whispered towards him as your hand moved to your desk.

“what are you talking about…? literally nothing happened?” he mumbled as he looked at you for a slight second before turning his head away, attempting to dismiss your worries.

part 2 tmr… imma get this short smuts out before i come back to this…

[divab0dy]

Giving hamzah or art their first handjob🙈🙈💋

Hands on Learning

contains: smut MDNI!!! sub!art, virgin!art, hand job obv, lmk if there's anything else

authors note: okay i really wanted to write this about hamzah but i cannot picture him getting his first hj at his big age. art is pathetic tho i could picture him getting his first kiss at 35. maybe i'll write something similar with hamzah tho!! also side note this is like the worst thing i've ever fucking written so lmk if you want me to rewrite this😭

art had been the sweet kid, always in the shadow of patrick when he came around stanford. dragging art to parties of a school he didn't go to, forcing art to talk to people, guiding him on how to do so. sometimes with patrick feeding him information and things to say, it felt like the people he talked to were more of patrick's than his.

you were the first one who felt like his. he had met you at a party that he didn't go to with patrick. in fact he didn't even tell patrick about you until after he asked you out. he did this all on his own. you were also the only relationship that had ever gone anywhere besides a first date and kiss at the end of the night if he was lucky.

you were in his dorm, making out on his bed, sat up on your knees, next to him, tilting your head down to kiss him. this happened very often, but it never seemed to lead anywhere, he always had some work to do, or something for tennis to be at. you knew he was lying but couldn't quite understand why.

this particular time he seemed to be letting it go on longer than others, his hands wandered down your waist to your hips. you pull back slightly and move to put a hand on his thigh, but stop when you feel something plush. you pull back all the way, realizing that he has a pillow in his lap.

you laugh and he returns with a chuckle, his far more nervous than yours. "sorry," he breathes.

"it's okay. are you nervous?" you rest a hand on this pillow.

"yeah... sorry," he looks away as he speaks.

"do you not want to..." you trail off.

"no! no i do! i just..." now he's trailing off.

"we don't have to do anything you don't want to," you reassure.

"okay yeah... i mean i really want to... i'm just nervous," he sighs, his eyes meeting yours again.

"why don't you let me take this," you tug at the pillow and he allows it. you remove the pillow from his lap and notice how he's tenting in his black tennis shorts.

you kiss him again to distract him, placing a hand on his thigh to hopefully help calm his nerves. he jolts when your hand meets his thigh, not your intended reaction. you push your tongue past his lips, intruding in on his mouth as his does the same to yours.

you move to sit on his lap while he's distracted in the kiss. he reacts instinctively, pushing his hips up into yours and groaning into your mouth. you swallow his moans and return with a few of your own.

he pulls back, "i've never done this before," he blurts.

"never done what?" you reposition yourself, away from his cock, straining through the think material of his shorts.

"i'm like... i'm a virgin," his eyes can't seem to meet yours, his hands suddenly fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"that's okay... what have you done before?" you try to keep your voice sweet and sincere.

"really nothing... just hmm. just making out." he still can't meet yours eyes.

"we can start real slow of you want," you bring your hand down to rest on his thigh, next to his crotch. you're trying your best to keep your voice light hearted and calm, hiding the fact that you want to tear him apart and eat him alive.

"yeah... i'm really hard," he laughs at his own sentence. is he high? you think to yourself. surely not, you've been with him all day. he's just that out of it from a simple touch.

"okay, you wanna take these off?" you look down to where your fingers are hooked on the elastic of his shorts. he lifts his hips, and you lift yours in turn so that he can shimmy out of them. "yeah boxers too, good job." he's feeling exposed and embarrassed all of a sudden as he tries to tug his shirt down, even though he just purposely exposed himself. "can i touch you?" and boy do you want to do more than touch him. this is a mouth watering, jaw clenching, pussy throbbing sight.

"please," he sighs, his hands gripping at your thighs, trying to ground himself. he feels like if he doesn't hold on, he might drift out the slightly open window of his dorm, into the sky and away forever. you spit on your hand and bring it down to his cock, gently wrapping around the base. he shudders and closes his eyes, he's trying so fucking hard to last more than a stroke. you begin gentle, loose handed, slow. his hips are immediately.

"oh fuck... your hands so soft... feels better." he's so out of it. his eyes are squeezed shut and he's bucking into your loose grasp, body all tense.

"better than what?" you wonder out loud.

"better than my hand, so much better," his hands are gripping tightly at your thighs, rolling the plush flesh in between his fingers and thumbs.

"yeah? you want me to go faster?" you smile at him. he nods. "why don't you open your eyes and look at me hm?" you're voice has a sweetness to it that you didn't even know you had.

his eyes snap open and they're filled with desperation. "mm feels good," his head rolls back and hits the wall. you speed up and his body only jolts more. he's desperately rocking his hips up into your hand. any thought he had before of not wanting to finish early has gone out the window, now he's only chasing pleasure, pure primal instinct. you grip onto his cock tighter, bringing your other hand to play with his tip, fingers dancing around the redish-pink area in circles. it's like you know exactly how to drive him insane, how to touch him just how he needs you to.

"you close artie?" you whisper, kissing his neck.

"so close, so fucking close, gonna cum," he stutters out. you can barely make sense of his words.

"it's okay, you can cum," and with that you grab his balls, giving them a light squeeze, tracing the seam with your thumb.

he's cumming in an instant, all over. your hands, your wrist, his chest, his thighs, dripping down to his balls, you name it. it's everywhere.

"fuck 'm sorry, i meant to... i meant too." the clarity is hitting but at the same time he's never felt so good in his entire fucking life. not even close to that. he can't speak properly and he's still twitching all over.

"i wanted to last longer" he shudders, moving you off of him and pulling up his shorts.

"it's okay artie, you did real good." you smile, cupping his cheek with one hand.

he blushes, embarrassed, but melts into your touch.

[neodymiumcuilz]

Hello my friend, please help. We do not have money to buy food and drink. I have young children who do not know the taste of sleep because of the bitter cold caused by the rain. We do not have shelter. Our services are torn. Donate to me, even if it is a little. I ask you to help, my friend 🙏🙏😭

HELP A FAMILY IN 🍉🍉 - URGENT CALL TO ACTION.

My friends, we must not forget about Gaza, and the suffering there. We must not turn our backs or stay silent, we mustn't stop using our voices to speak out. If you are able to donate I urge you to please do so. The people of Gaza are still suffering greatly, even after the ceasefire. They are left amidst the rubble, displaced in tents, cold and unprotected from the weather. The cost of living is high, there is no money for education, food, water, medicine, clothes or shelter. They need our help to sustain better lives, and secure a better future. Help achieve a better living environment for people in Gaza.

The cost of living is in fact so high, that people have resorted to eating GRASS. And a simple bag of flour or loaf of bread can cost hundreds. Imagine yourself in a tent, unprotected from the elements, harsh cold, rain, hunger and sickness. No income for food, water or other basic needs. That is the reality for those in Gaza, who need our assistance amidst the darkness, be a shining light.

Please visit @nazmy27988 and support the account, interact with the posts, share the message, and story. Please use your account to amplify his voice, posts and spread awareness, don't be scared to speak for Palestinian families who need you, his link;

ONLY 3% OF DONATION GOAL REACHED. HOW ARE THEY MEANT TO SURVIVE? The best way to support a campaign is by donating, if you have many means of transferring money, any contribution will suffice.

“Hello, I am Nazmy I would like to take just two minutes of your time to share my story with you. I am Nazmy , I live under the constant bombing and aggression . Here we struggle with a life of death and constant loss. We lost the home we lived in, and were displaced more than 10 times from one place to another in search of safety. The truth is that there is no safe place, and we had many ambitions and hopes. I graduated from university and intended to travel, work, and many other things, but the war came and destroyed all of that. We also had a source of livelihood and clothing shops, which were completely destroyed by the occupation and turned into ashes, and we no longer have any final source of livelihood. We also faced difficulty in obtaining food and drinking water, and we suffered from many diseases such as hepatitis, gastroenteritis, and malnutrition due to the lack of a suitable environment for life. Here we live in hunger and fear."

Please help fellow human beings out. Don't ignore them, donate, speak up, free them. Do your part. Thank you for having humanity.

[kirasworldofwords]

Webbonso + 55. Mutual Pining (+ Oblivious)

The Webbonso crowd has found me- Ngl though, although I'm not the biggest fan of Mark for obvious reasons (I'm more of a Seb person, lmao, and yk what happened with them), I do love myself some Webbonso. 🫶🏻

Prompt 55: Mutual Pining (+ Oblivious)

How many more times did Fernando want to watch as they created a disaster situation for PR through just... existing together, knowing what the fans screamed was a deep and personal wish on his part?

How many more times was Mark willing to let it all happen without going absolutely batshit crazy at the prospect of being seen as someone more than a friend to Fernando?

How many more times would they be able to stay silent? Unknowing if the other reciprocated their feelings or not?

Fernando had tried a few times - or, well, at least attempted to try. Whenever it got too serious, however, he backed out, afraid of Mark's reaction. And the Australian would just brush it off as Fernando being Fernando - he liked to bullshit around here or there, both on and off track. That was just his personality.

But he, too, had tried spilling his feelings to Fernando at least a few times already, too. Yet every time he even so much as thought of actually doing it, bile rose in his throat and he had to physically turn away, so as to not throw up on whatever was ahead of him at the time.

In short, Mark's pride literally made him sick whenever he tried to be vulnerable with the Spaniard.

Many nights, Fernando would stay up until the early morning hours, staring at the ceiling, journaling. He had found out not too much prior to him realizing he had a thing for Mark that journaling really helped him with his emotions.

Likewise, many times, Mark would stay awake as well, writing poems pleading with the world to finally give him the mental as well as physical strength to overcome his pride and finally say what he knew he needed to say to Fernando - or he'd write love letters to the Aston Martin driver, yet he'd always stuff them away immediately after proof-reading and correcting them, for fear Fernando would make fun of him if he ever found them.

One such letter, however... made its way into the wilderness that was Mark's bedroom one fateful day. The same day Fernando happened to be over for a beer or two.

His mind had been all over the place, uncertain and confused, scared on top of it all, too. Yet it was just as lovesick as it was terrified, the secret love he held for Mark soon overpowering the fear in the very core of his heart, to the point where he'd randomly cry to himself.

If Michael had been there, he'd have told Fernando to man up already and finally tell Mark.

If Sebastian had been there, he'd have told Mark to face his fears and let Fernando know, for his own sanity as well as the Spanish driver's, who must've already noticed by then - and he must've been so worried for his friend, too.

"But he doesn't see me like that" they'd both tell themselves, trying to think in relative terms whenever thoughts of confession so much as briefly came up.

Until Fernando found one of Mark's letters.

Under the guise of needing to use the bathroom, he snuck the piece of paper with him, locking himself in and sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet to read what the former Red Bull pilot had written there.

Only when his eyes finally fully registered a few wet spots on the paper, Fernando realized that he was crying. And his heart was racing, and it ached so much, and everything was unbearable and he felt so stuffed and trapped and-

"Nando? Are you okay in there? Do you need any help?"

Out. Out, out, he had to get out, right now...!

The door to the bathroom clicked and swung open, so suddenly that it almost gave the older Australian whiplash. What did give him whiplash, however, was the sight he received immediately after his brain finally adjusted to the sudden occurrences, eyes going wide in shock.

There, Fernando stood, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held a piece of paper in his left hand, in a way that almost screamed at Mark that Fernando wanted him to see it.

The Aussie's heart dropped, down to his smallest toe.

"Fernando... I... I can explain-"

But the Spanish man was quicker, rushing towards Mark and pressing their lips together in a kiss that took both of them by surprise - so much so, Mark couldn't even respond to it in any way there was, causing him to just stand there, pale-faced and absolutely horrified one minute before blushing like crazy the next. The paper Fernando held was long disregarded, having floated to the ground already, somewhere next to Fernando's feet. The younger man held Mark's face in his hands instead, in a slightly tighter grip than intended of him, as he glared at the Australian through glistening tears.

"Cállate, cabrón."

Before he could attempt to kiss Mark anew, the adrenaline and emotions in his system running as high as they never did before, Mark held him in place, pushing his hands against Fernando's chest to hold him back and looking at him worriedly.

"Nando, you know I don't speak Spanish..."

The wildly emotional look on Fernando's face softened at the sound of Mark's voice, which was barely above a whisper at this point, one last tear of high emotion betraying the Spaniard as it rolled down his cheek.

"I said shut up, asshole. ... And let me kiss you instead."

The tone of which Fernando made use was enough to cause Mark to smile gently, yet his words only deepened it, and he retreated his hands from the Aston Martin pilot's chest to reposition them on his waist instead.

"Gladly."

This time, both went into the kiss with clear intentions and expectations, both of which were met and fulfilled, executed perfectly, one might say. To them, it felt like an eternity and a half - though in reality, it was more like two minutes of them just standing there, in front of the open bathroom of which the light was turned on, still, both of them having forgotten the world around them and simply focusing on each other and themselves as they kissed without a care.

Once they did gently break apart again, however, Mark brought their foreheads together, nosing at Fernando's nose with his own.

"I thought you didn't see me in that way..."

The Spaniard chuckled brokenly, closing his eyes.

"What a coincidence... I thought the same of you."

They fell silent. For about five minutes, all they did was breathe in each other's air, reveling in the other's sheer presence. Soon, Fernando murmured almost inaudibly.

"... So... both of us had feelings for the other all this time..."

Mark didn't do much more than nod at this, maybe he hummed in tow, he couldn't quite tell. There was a noise, yes, but his mind was so far out of it, he couldn't tell who or what it came from. Could've just been a random outside noise for all he cared.

"Does that mean... I get to call you mine...? I've been hoping and praying for so long for a miracle like this to happen someday, and for us to find our ways to each other soon..."

Fernando smiled gratefully at the carefully curated words that left Mark's mouth, pecking his lips again shortly.

"Call me whatever you want... So long as I get to call you mi amor, I'm all fine with it."

The sight of his favorite Spaniard smiling like that was contagious, Mark had to admit - because he found himself smiling just the same way Fernando was.

"You got yourself a deal there, Nando."

[livinginadumpster]

One thing I really like in Dead Boy Detectives is the use of blood/gore/horror. With a TV-MA rating, a show with horror themes is obviously going to have some blood and violence, and there are clear instances if this in DBD, but while it's definitely there, it's almost never gratuitous. That's because scenes like the Devlin murders or Maxine's death aren't really about those deaths, rather, they're about the characters' reactions to them and the way the story is shaped by them.

In the Devlin house, the camera focuses not on the girls being killed but on Edwin, Crystal, and particularly Charles reacting to their murders with horror, shock, and anger. The blood splatters in a meaningful way, rather than simply a horrifying one, over the TV and the popcorn and the younger daughter's stuffed rabbit, tarnishing the innocence of everything it touches. While the tragedy of the murders themselves are important, the main focus is Charles' reaction to them as a result if his own trauma. Showing the minutia of the killings would take away from that, so it simply isn't there.

Even Maxine's death, while definitely played off more for shock value than the Devlin murders, serves a purpose. Episode 5 focuses on the failure of romantic relationships, on betrayals from those you thought you could trust, and the Maxine subplot adds to that. It begs the question, who can you trust in this world? At the end of the episode, the answer we are given is your friends, your found family, because love will kill.

It seems to me that the blood in hell represents the guilt of those it touches - Simon's wounds heal when he forgives himself; Edwin loses the blood covering him after Charles turns up to rescue him (albeit by a horrifying cause); the people in the Lust room are drenched in blood and get it on Edwin when they try to drag him down. It's not just there to demonstrate the horrors of hell, but to brand its inhabitants.

There are lots of other examples. The blood when Niko dies is there obviously because that's what happens when you get stabbed, but also (in my opinion) as a visual callback to her saying that red is the color of courage. The cat king's bloody corpse and Monty's blood-splattered face show Esther's ruthlessness and disregard for anyone in her path. Lilith is covered in blood as a symbolic part of her character design. Everything serves a purpose, narratively or symbolically.

(The only example of gore that served no particular purpose that I can think of was in episode one when the WWI ghost drooled blood all over Charles' face, but it was the pilot episode and that whole scene was meant to be shocking, so it can be forgiven.)

Anyway, I really like the way they use blood in DBD, because it shows such a level of detail and care. I enjoy horror but not gore so much, and to me it's refreshing to see it used so tastefully and executed so well.

[splickedylit]

I know most of my new followers are for Homestuck but I just reread the entirety of Eyeshield 21 and: football manga good. So you'll have to forgive a brief interlude of "Splickedy's favorite minor character (and guests)" haha. Anyway do you think any of the gangsters Agon canonically cuckolded ever mistook Unsui for his twin brother and beat the shit out of him?? Ignore me.

...also tho relatedly I made a post about college Hiruma/Unsui in January and now I'm 26,000 words in, because,,, idk I've lost control of my life? Because "I realized in college that I'm queer and I have a million tons of repressed emotions behind a very cracked dam" is a big mood and maps onto Unsui too easily for me to resist? Because I'm still incredibly amused by the thought of how pissed off Agon would be if his brother started dating Hiruma? All of those things, lmao.

[cringefailvox]

finishing up this chapter either tonight or tomorrow but g-d willing it WILL be out this weekend

[glass-noodle]

I'm curious Connor in you're au looks quite malnutritioned and tired what would Hank do if he became exceptionally sick or weak from kamskis experiments on him

He can tell that something’s off the minute he walks into the enclosure. Connor is lying half on the deck, half in the water, his tail hanging limply off the ledge. He barely lifts his head at the sound of Hank entering, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Hank rushes forward, dropping his lunch bag on the deck and grabbing Connor by the shoulders. “Jesus — Connor! Hey, you okay?”

Connor looks worse than he ever has; purple shadows under his eyes dark as a bruise, skin sallow over protruding bones, grip weak as he reaches up to place a heavy hand on Hank’s arm. Hank feels anger simmer to life in his gut, the urge to storm straight into Kamski’s office and punch his teeth out for allowing Connor to wallow in this state (and likely causing it) rising like a maelstrom; but he manages to reign himself in for Connor’s sake, guiding him into a more comfortable position on the deck. “Hold on, kid,” he says urgently, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the merman’s thin, pale frame. He turns to rummage quickly through his bag. “Here, what do you need? Food? Water?”

He holds out his daily catch to Connor. Connor looks blearily at the fish, eyes cloudy, then drops his head back onto the deck, murmuring insensibly.

Hank raises his head back up. “C’mon, kid, you need to eat,” he says, trying to keep his voice low despite his rising panic. He palms the kid’s face gently, noting how it’s burning up as he sits cross-legged by the water’s edge, guiding Connor’s head into his lap.

Connor barely reacts to the change in position. His eyes are closed, and his bony ribs rise and fall quickly, shallow breaths puffing past cracked lips. Hank decides it’s probably best to start with water. He reaches back into his bag to retrieve his bottle, uncapping it and placing it against Connor’s lips. “Come on, come on,” he mutters.

Connor does respond to that, at least, throat bobbing with difficulty as he sips slowly at what’s offered. Hank’s relief is short-lived, however; Connor’s eyes slip shut when Hank pulls the bottle away, and he murmurs a low, wounded sound as he turns his head weakly into Hank’s lap.

Hank hisses a curse between his teeth. He puts a hand on Connor’s burning forehead, pushing his sweat-soaked locks out of the way. He’s just about to consider running to get help — Kamski’s wrath be damned — when the enclosure door opens.

Hank turns quickly, stiffening. One of the scientists, the small blonde one, is standing in the doorway, holding several objects in her hands — one of which looks like a syringe filled with a pale blue fluid. She gives him a strange, lingering look.

“Mr. Anderson.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Hank growls. He doesn’t give a damn that he’s been caught breaking the rules. He eyes the syringe in her hand suspiciously as she walks towards them, clutching Connor tighter. “The hell are you gonna do to him?”

She stops a short distance away from them. “My name is Chloe,” she says, soft and careful. She holds out her hands placatingly, showing Hank everything that she has in her grasp. “I work directly under Dr. Kamski. Connor is sick. I have medicine for him.”

Hank eyes the syringe suspiciously. The girl doesn’t seem all that aggressive, but he doesn’t trust anyone in this place, least of all the fuckers who put Connor in this situation in the first place. “Right. How do I know you’re not just gonna shoot him up with more weird shit?”

Chloe’s hesitates, looking away. “I understand your concern,” she murmurs finally. “But I want you to know that I really don’t mean Connor any harm. I — I don’t like seeing him suffer, either.”

Hank snorts darkly at that. “Then set him free.”

Chloe says nothing; just gives him another long, considering look. On top of feeling pissed, her light-eyed stare is starting to make him feel uncomfortable, like she’s staring into his soul and grasping at his deepest, most guarded thoughts. Weird girl.

Connor stirs in his lap, dark eyes flickering open to peer hazily beyond Hank’s hovering form. He seems to recognize Chloe; he doesn’t shy away as she approaches them, at least. Rather, he shifts, and — to Hank’s surprise — holds out one pale, scarred arm.

Chloe kneels down, keeping her eyes on Hank. “May I?”

Hank would honestly like nothing less, but he’s not stupid. Connor needs more help than he can provide, and for whatever reason he seems to trust her marginally more than the other scientists Hank’s seen him interact with. “Whatever,” he grunts, keeping a tight grip on the merman. If she got the smart notion to try anything, Hank would be there to swing his weight around, anyhow.

Connor watches her as she swabs his skin delicately with alcohol, and Hank watches him in turn. His face pinches when she inserts the needle, but he seems no less uncomfortable than he was before; no trace of the anger or fear that normally twists his expression when the scientists enter his tank. In fact, he seems almost…relieved. His eyes slip closed when Chloe retracts the needle, and he lets out a shaky sigh, curling into Hank’s warmth.

Hank strokes a hand through the kid’s hair, watching Chloe discard the needle into a little yellow container and tape a piece of gauze over the puncture site. “You done now?”

Chloe shakes her head, looking regretful. “I’m afraid we’ll have to move Connor to the sick tank. He’ll need more than a single shot to recover, and he’ll need specific environmental conditions to help him heal properly.”

Hank feels that familiar anger ignite in him again, raising his hackles and knotting dark and tight in his chest. “He wouldn’t be sick if you would just stop doing this to him,” he growls, fixing the girl with a hard, baleful stare. Whatever she’d done to help Connor just now, it didn’t make up for everything she’d helped enable up until this point. It didn’t make up for all the suffering she and her team had put Connor through.

Chloe doesn’t speak for a long moment. “I’ll pass that on to Elijah,” she says eventually, tone soft and unreadable.

[fights4users]

Sending him away

How would Yori react to Tron getting transferred? (For the sake of the fic he wasn’t copied)

Tron regrets it the second the words leave his mouth, but she had to hear it from him. He has made a choice he’s come to regret once realizing it will mean leaving her.

Touchy, angsty but they ultimately have great communication skills.

-Comments encouraged-

[athenasiuscorp]

Some skin woven dream

The drapings of skin upon shadow revenant correlates to my au- which takes place years in the future- after revenant had turned into shadow revenant- with the side effect of corrupting all life with his essence. Eventually, he became overwhelmed with the collective minds at his will- so he ceased it.

All that he had paralyzed for entertainment were now ash- they succumbed to time.

Bored, alone, suicidal, and truly immortal- he seeks out Ash, who had already been observing him within a nearby satellite for the duration of his reign. She had anticipated this, so there was little resistance on her end. He would be a fascinating subject.

Ultimately, Ash sets up her lab beneath the mountain Revenant now takes solace. He could have easily left the planet- but figured that familiar company was more tolerable than an endless squabble with the ashes of fleeting amusement. In return for his participation in the experiment, Ash would send distress signals to lure unsuspecting life to the planet for Revenant to toy with, and in turn, capture as subjects for Ash.

Ash is familiar with Revenant's... "rules" or poetics of killing- he operates on a large symbolic basis to justify most carnage- to enact a narrative of a purpose fulfilled. To keep him from leaving, she knew that appealing to this facet of expression could keep him "attached", and ultimately weave her into his narrative. Years of isolation and death games have made him difficult, almost regressive. She figures that he's already so deluded, that fostering more of it would be easy.

So, synthesizing some DNA that she had swiped from Revenant's source code years prior, she synthesized a blanket of his own skin for him to wear. Initially, he felt patronized- but eventually wove it onto himself. She knew he couldn't resist embracing the irony of such an item. Additionally, she could capitalize on his protectiveness- she knew not even he could resist a need for a familiar abomination in tandem with his grief.

Though there had been some hypotheses during the synthesis of the membrane, a small implication being that the material could make him feel more "himself" due to how the DNA material interacts with and contains his shadow. An ideal outcome would be for him to be feigned into thinking he's mortal, restricting him from the notion of leaving. Until she can synthesize some means of containing the planet without him knowing- this is her best option.

If her research proves successful, she could navigate any planetary terrain with ease, a curiosity endlessly satisfied. A purpose to look forward to past a lust for battle, which had ultimately proved monotonous in time. Perhaps a "redemption" of sorts. She isn't completely resistant to the notion of relaying her findings with humans- they would greatly depend on her, for anything that she requests would be taken as a messianic necessity. The thought that she could eventually hold such an advantage, on top of such vast means of exploration truly excited both halves of the retired simulacrum.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Hello hello ophe 👋😇

I’m doing somewhat ok these days how about you? I hope you are getting better 😇

Anyways I got a crack idea and it sounds kinda stupid but hear me out

Bank robbery or crime gang au

You get Alejandro who is the one in charge

Noah the brains

Justin the distraction for the police and just the attractive distraction

Tyler is the “athletic” one really he’s also part of distraction the other one they shove in the vents

Wayne (don’t ask no one knows why he is even here) is the getaway driver

Cody the hacker and the one they shove into the vents

Trent is the second getaway driver is Wayne is knocked out and he’s also helps Cody when he is shoved in the vents (Trent tells where Cody need to go when Cody is in the vents)

Owen is also part of the distraction team and somehow supplies the group with firearms of all things?

Harold is the main hacker

Duncan is I guess the Jack of all trades?

Anyways yeah I don’t know why I thought of this….

-Ass Stars anon

Hello hello, A.S. Anon! 👋😄

I'm slowly getting better by means of an excessive amount of decongestants and painkillers! 💊

Total Drama Bank Heist AU sounds like a fun little crack idea, I'm on board.

If I could suggest something, I'd like to offer both Noah and Harold as the groups' 'Guy(s) In The Chair', with Noah using his canonical hacking abilities to scout out their chosen heist area using it's security cameras and/or downloading the bank's blueprints digitally (pretty sure he did something similar to this in Dramarama?) and Harold utilizing some of his various Mad Skills to plan the group's course of action and probably man their comms. I say this because Noah can't stand Harold, so making them work together as the groups' off-site organizers would/could be hindered by the two of them bickering instead of actually working. (Also because I can't imagine a world in which Noah would willingly do something as physically straining as robbing a bank. Mission intelligence, however, is right up his alley; he and Harold absolutely fight over who gets to be called 'Q'.)

Having Alejandro as the main group's de facto leader just feels right, and I don't think they'd need someone dedicated to being the 'Brains' with him around (though that title would go to Harold and Noah technically). He's quick witted enough to think up plans of action on the fly and devious enough to charm his way through a tough spot, all whilst being physically capable enough to fight his way through trouble- if anything I'd say Alejandro is the 'Jack of all Trades', thought 'The Leader' is probably a more appealing moniker to him.

Justin as 'The Eye Candy' also feels natural- it's his best (only) talent! He's been shown in canon to be a bit of a schmoozer, so complimenting/flirting his way through the banks' guards/employees and working as a distraction is perfect for him, especially since I doubt Justin would want to do any dirty work and risk damaging his 'perfect face/body'.

Duncan and Tyler would be 'The Brawn', with Duncan actually being an effective physical threat whilst Tyler is... Tyler...

Though Duncan could also be 'The Wildcard', since his loyalty isn't exactly assured at any given moment. Whilst I doubt he's ever rat the others out for his own assured freedom/safety, abandoning them at the scene while he makes his escape? That's a total Duncan Move (he learned it from Courtney in TDDDDI).

I honestly can't see Owen as a heister, unless he was somehow tricked/blackmailed into tagging along, but if he was he's be similar to Tyler- though his title would be something along the lines of 'The Beefcake'- just some extra muscle who's not particularly good at being extra muscle.

Cody would be the safe cracker. He's small and "quick on his feet" (his words), he's literally built for crawling through vents and cracking open safes! He's smart enough to be a code breaker, though he rarely shows it, and I also think it's a nice nod to his bomb diffusing fear- it's a similar course of action.

Trent as the getaway driver also just feels right. He's laid back enough to be contented to just sit and wait for the others to finish their heist, and his poker face is pretty good so one one really suspects him to be involved in the others' ongoings. He probably plays indie rock songs from the 80s as they speed away from the scenes of their crimes, and he absolutely owns a pair of mirrored shades that he only wears when it's Time To Go- he thinks they make him look cool (they don't, but no one has the heart to tell him).

I could see Cody as a secondary getaway driver as well, if Trent's unavailable, utilizing his baby face and unassuming demeanour to divert suspicion from himself. "No officer, I'm not a getaway driver. I'm just a baby, don't you see the learner's plate on my Vauxhall Corsa?" He has a terrible poker face though. If they were ever pulled over or caught he'd admit to everything without prompting.

I can't really think of a way of including Wayne, given the canonical age difference, unless said age difference is lessened in this AU. If he's, say, 16 whilst the rest of them are in their early 20s, I'd suggest that he's Owen's younger cousin who's tagging along because the group couldn't find a way to dissuade him from joining without him (either intentionally or inadvertently) tattling on their whole schtick. He's got no idea what's really happening- he's aware that they're heisting but Wayne doesn't have the, uh, cerebral constitution to connect "Bank Heist" to "Committing Actual Crimes"- but he's having a Great Time regardless! Alejandro has him on lookout duty (read: Wayne sits outside of the bank, oblivious to the legality of the situation) which Wayne takes very seriously... until he gets bored and hangs out with Trent/Cody in the car.

Now for extras!

Their main opposition is a specialised group of investigators who are assigned to their case- since they mark each heist with their group's name but have yet to be caught (They probably get Duncan to tag the side of their hit banks with a crudely drawn Bull Head or something in bright red spray paint). They're not cops, but they do work with them (ew) to try and finally catch the heisters.

Heather, alongside Courtney, Gwen, Leshawna, Lindsay, Beth and Sierra, work in this special ops. group; they're all specialised agents who are dispatched to the scenes of the heists to try and catch our boys in the act.

(I think Sierra would make a really good intelligence operator, given her canonical ability to run ~22+ blogs simultaneously and dig up private information on people. She'd direct the others towards whichever bank she finds Harold and Noah hacking into.)

They occasionally enlist the help of Izzy and Eva for the extra muscle, but the duo are too temperamental to be a full-time part of their operation.

(Yes I added my girlies as a rival group. It's Gender Wars Time. S1E14 all over again but this time there's less gross food and more LITERAL CRIME‼‼)

[edwinisms]

I haven’t written fanfic for so long up until recently that I forgot the struggle of having multiple ideas and starting multiple chaptered works at the same time and then having to keep up with them grgegahhhhf