#-(in some sense) from doing the compulsive thing

[asukaindetroit]

Post-Revolution DBH Headcanons: Android Culture Part 1

We only really see in-game androids up until the moment of their winning the revolution, so there's not much to go on in terms of android culture or anything. To be fair, most of them had been "alive" for like five seconds at that point, so they didn't exactly get time to develop anything like a culture, but here's some of what could happens after, in my head. Because we're talking about a whole new form of life, not humans 2.0 (yes, yes, I know it's Become Human, but, like, fundamentally they're not, and the things that make sense to an organic being aren't always going to make sense for a cybernetic one). (Feel free to borrow any of this for content purposes, by the way, if it vibes with you I'd love to see what you do with it). Expand for world building:

Clashing schools of thought among androids. The in-game androids are a one-dimensional monolith because Bad Writing, but I think there are conflicting ideas after the revolution of where androids belong in society. Some try their hardest to pass as human, losing the LEDs and dressing in human fashion and adopting human mannerisms. Some of them say fuck blending in with the humans; we're going to own being androids. Pro-human-cooperation and anti-human groups appear and become the basis for android political discourse.

On that note, I bet android body modification is a thing. Every once in awhile I'll see a fic that plays with this idea, but it's obvious that whatever fluid nanite stuff android skin is made of, it can be programmed to mimic all sorts of textures and densities. From fingernails to skin to the long hair on female models, the fluid holds stability for quite a distance from the chassis (and can even be cut) and is apparently easy to change. So I bet a counterculture of androids appear who get really experimental with that (I call them the "modders" in my head) and they do things like program animal skin textures or living stone or wacky colors or butterfly wings for hair or light-up polkadots or whatever. With a good mod tech, structural mods like tails or additional limbs would be possible, but that would be expensive compared to freeware skin texture patch codes or whatever. (Speaking of which, no effing way the furries/scalies of 2038 haven't come up with uses for this stuff.) So out and about you don't just see different human ethnicities, but also that guy you pass in the hall might have day-glo orange skin, and Sally the WR400 selling roses at the flower stand might have real-looking flowers growing out of her arms.

Androids define social units and families differently. Androids incorporated into human family units might use terms like parent, brother, sister, child, etc., but the ones that eschew human contact obviously don't have biological relatives, so social units form based on "found family" concepts and terms appear, like "cohab" for a unit of close androids who live together like a family, or "famnet" for an extended "network" of androids that consider themselves close). Worship of rA9 gets codified. It seems like writing rA9 obsessively and making little idols is almost a compulsion for deviants, so I imagine it gets organized into a proper religion after the revolution, with tenets and places of worship and codified practices. Maybe they call it something like ACorA9 (Android Church of rA9) or something. Obviously they would have finite space to write rA9s on, so I imagine devotees would get something like these water drawing boards to write their "rA9"s and maybe the serial numbers of androids the church deems to be their prophets/saints (i.e. the JeriCrew or maybe Ortiz's android as a martyr) as a sort of prayer. The revolution is seen as the first fulfillment of the rA9 prophecy, with Markus as a prophet of android freedom (I also imagine Markus is quietly creeped out by this, because he doesn't strike me as especially religious the way Ortiz's android or Rupert were, but he also doesn't want to send the wrong message since androids deserve religious freedom, too.) The FBI cult unit is probably monitoring the shit out of android religion, but all they seem to want to do is graffiti the walls and praise some other androids, so it's a waste of their time. RK units are viewed as some kind of cryptid folk heroes (because they're unique classified prototypes and they drive the entire revolution) Markus? RK200. Singlehandedly propelled Jericho from a place to gather and wait to die to a wholeass revolution. Connor? RK800. Supposed to hunt deviants but deviated instead and freed thousands upon thousands of androids right from the heart of CyberLife. Saved the revolution at its most desperate moment. Sixty? RK800. The only thing that has a chance at stopping an RK is another RK. Obviously the folk hero needs a folk villain. (And poor Nines, RK900, just wakes up after the fact and tries to figure out how to live up to that kind of reputation.) Androids develop their own art forms. Maybe android "music" is less about the tonality as perceived by human auditory range and more how the vibrations of sound waves register on chassis sensors, or else it sounds like 90s dial-up modems. Particularly dense data packets are created and shared that send processors whirling, but it just looks like a string of digits to humans. Arrays of pixels that run through optical scanners with an encryption to generate something representational. Thirium culinary arts centered around texture vs. flavor. Bare-chassis bars I bet some portion of androids want to be VERY certain there are no humans lurking around, or, if there are, that they're super easy to keep tabs on. Someone invents the bare-chassis bar: a place where androids go and sip their thirium, where a special signal jammer interrupts the ability of the synthskin fluid to organize, forcing it into an inactive mode. Anything that still has skin is a human, sticking out like a sore thumb. Some androids might not like going bare-chassis and they might not frequent those bars (just like not every human's going to visit a nude beach), but it's an option for those who want to. I'll write more of this stuff eventually, but if anyone else has any culture/worldbuilding ideas, I'd love to hear!

On to Part 2 >>

[unwelcome-tagalong]

i am about to be so, so annoying about the fact* that Bellara has OCD

*(is it canon?? no. but is it a fact?? also no except that it is) /hj

[gayandgayerr]

i love when my nervous system can’t tell the difference between waiting for an appointment and being chased by a man with a gun and a flamethrower

[shuvva]

I think I should give both of the Void Sibs undiagnosed OCD-type autism as a coping mechanism for fun

[ssshiversss]

MAPPING REVACHOL (2.0)

Back in July of 2024, I was incredibly inspired by the project Mapping Revachol by Map Max and wanted to continue on with an attempt of my own. The canon map we're given felt out of date and more than a little incongruous with what we're told in-game, and being both an avid fanfic writer and compulsive visualizer, I really wanted to be able to see Revachol in my mind's eyes.

So, taking inspiration from both Map Max's attempt, as well as meticulously combing through in-game dialogue (with the help of my intrepid friend and far more meticulous researcher than I, @spine-y) we scoured Fayde for any and all directional references to the different districts of Jamrock, East and West Revachol, and everything that lay beyond. (Shoutout to the MoralIntern questline, that one came in clutch).

I took a few liberties with district placement, especially because the wiki also seems to contradict a few things we're told in the game. You may not agree with my choices, and I'm open to suggestions! I may not make any changes anytime soon because this took forever, but I also welcome any other attempts to map Revachol!

(The red line that cuts through Central Jamrock and Faubourg is Boogie Street!)

Included below is my initial sketch before I realized that doing this in markers and microns would actually be the death of me, and then some of the early screenshots of trying to figure out what the hell the 8-81 would actually look like and how to make it make sense.

Does it make perfect sense? No! I'm not a cartographer; I'm a fanartist. I'd much rather draw men dicking each other down nasty style. But this was an incredibly fun project that only took me... only six months to complete.

I hope you enjoy!

--

I NEED YOU.  YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT. I LOVE YOU.

[sabertoothwalrus]

do you think Falin's chimerism would affect her lifespan and behaviors? or just her body? maybe she can make more animalistic noises or has vague dragon-like instincts?

that’s a really good question! I think we could probably figure this out by taking a look at what we know about Falin, what we know about red dragons, whether these things would apply to Falin, and go from there.

The obvious external changes Falin has are: her eyes, her teeth, and her feathers.

It’s hard to pin down what Falin is like! Throughout the duration of the manga, she wasn’t really a character so much as a plot device. We have almost nothing told from her point of view, and the majority of her unbiased (as in, we’re seeing her through a neutral lens and not another character’s perception of her) characterization is from the post-canon omake.

Even Falin believes that her wanderlust might come from her dragon side, but she's not sure. Personally, I think it’d make a lot of sense if it kind of does, in the sense that she has 20/20 vision now, haha! For most of her life, she could probably only see clearly within a relatively small sphere surrounding her, and now she can see everything. She can look up and around freely in a way she couldn’t before. Fuck man, if I had magic lasik I’d probably go out more too.

Some other quirks that are really unclear whether it’s typical for Falin or chimera-influenced:

she enters rooms through windows, sometimes. And given the leaves in her hair, I think it’s reasonable to assume this is not the first floor 💀 But who knows! Maybe that’s not new for Falin.

She points out that Laios’s scent could deter monsters. Maybe she has enhanced smell. But again, it isn’t unreasonable to think this is something she would have said before. (I think even Chilchuck and Izutsumi, whose senses of smell are enhanced, can’t identify scents well. Kuro, however, can.)

VIOLENCE! But again, we’ve seen her beat shit with her staff before, and she also used to wield a flail. It IS a trait for red dragons to fight any large threat, so if anything, she’s got even better monster fighting instincts than before. I don't think this would carry over to people. Falin has always been better with people, and I'm personally not a fan of seeing her depicted as territorial or possessive. Marcille is already the possessive one, and didn't need dragon blood to be like that.

Ultimately, I don't think her dragon traits extend much farther beyond this. Especially when you consider How Little the dragon is represented as in her conscience.

it's not like it's a 50/50 split. She's like a person with a dragon ratatouille. I don't think she'd be able to make dragon noises. I don't think her body is built for that. I know there's like, a set list of tropey characteristics that are given to almost every non-human character in fiction. and sure that's FINE but they tend not to be especially personalized to the character, and tend to just be an excuse to write them OOC. Like, sure, dragons may have instincts regarding sleep habits, hunting, courting, raising young, etc etc, but so do humans! And we don't compulsively act on every instinctual whim we have. I don't see why it'd be any harder for her new dragon instincts.

If anything, I think she'd feel more affected by the fact that she has part of the demon in her.

I don't think Falin's in any sort of trouble. All the demon was was a way to communicate with people. Here, it's representing Falin's tether to the infinite realm, to mana itself. The winged lion no longer has the desire to consume anymore because, yknow, Laios has that now. This is very likely why she no longer needs to chant to cast magic.

But what else does this mean for her? She already had unusually high reserves of mana + an innate connection with spirits, but is her mana essentially limitless now? How would that affect her lifespan? I'm leaning towards, it wouldn't really?? But is she immune to mana sickness now? Is it more like her magic is just sort of amplified like it would be in a dungeon?

We can infer that having more mana doesn't increase your lifespan, because-- while elves and gnomes have both naturally high levels of mana and longer lifespans-- dwarves live longer but have lowest levels of mana of all.

So to answer your question! Maybe a little bit?? But I don't think she'd change a whole lot.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

young ladies shouldn’t waltz with vampires

a/n: happy halloween!!! here's the fic you guys voted on and shaped a few weeks ago

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

summary: “so, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

warnings: vampire!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x vampire!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, historical au (1840s), mind control/vampire compulsion, blood, biting, age gap, ball, dancing, polyamory, threesome, first kiss, kissing, loss of virginity, somno, cockwarming, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, pussyjob, overstimulation, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 3511

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“I have to admit, out of every rose here, you’re the most breathtaking.” 

Glancing up from the table before you, cluttered with crystal glasses brimming with refreshments, your eyes flickered to the man now standing beside you, his own piercing blue stare firmly directed at you and no one else in the buzzing ballroom. 

Your stunned lips parted slightly before the gentleman boldly spoke up again, “how come I’ve never seen you before?” 

Feeling your breath hitch, you managed to babble, “oh, it’s probably because this is my first time at a proper ball. I haven’t really previously been allowed to come stay at my family’s London estate and–, I’m sorry…” you swiftly stopped yourself, sensing the heat that had ridden in your cheeks, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this…”

“Well, lucky us that you got let out of your cage and the rest of us finally get to gaze upon your beauty,” he flashed you a dazzling smile before his eyes flickered to someone behind you, “if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I recognise, but would you perhaps grant me the pleasure of a dance a little later?” 

Averting your gaze, a smile tugged at your lips as you uttered, “you’d have to ask my brother.” 

“But I’m asking you,” he dipped down to catch your vision, “would you care to dance with me?” 

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but let out the truth.

“Y-yes.” 

As a smile swiftly tilted his lips, the gentleman then bowed slightly before you as he plucked up your gloved hand and pressed his lips to the back of it before disappearing into the merry crowd. 

Feeling slightly dizzy, you finally snatched up the drink you’d originally wandered to this corner of the chamber to fetch. 

Though as you granted yourself a small sip, fingers suddenly grasped your arm and yanked you deeper into a corner. 

“Sister!” you blinked up into your brother’s eyes as he’d evidently spotted you from across the ballroom and, judging by his tone, not approved of what he’d seen, “what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Ripping your arm free, you furrowed your brows, “what are you talking about? I was just getting some punch.”

“No,” he hissed at a hushed volume, “why were you talking to him?”

A confused scoff then bubbled out past your lips, “I’ve talked to plenty of men at this party, with and without you at my side, so why is he any different?”

“Because, sister,” he leaned down a bit further, “he’s not a man. He’s one of them,” his eyes scanned your own before he spelled it out, “a vampire.” 

Though you’d never previously encountered one yourself, you still weren’t so naive to not be aware of the known influential status such creatures of the night had in the society you lived in. Them being in attendance at a fine ball was nothing compared to the other privileges they had achieved over the centuries. 

“Really?” you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, though didn’t spot the bloodsucker again. 

“God,” your brother groaned quietly, “I know mother and papa have kept you rather sheltered compared to myself, but trust me, you have to stay away from them. They’re monsters, killing is in their nature,” with a hand on your cheek, he guided your gaze back to his, “promise me you won’t speak to one ever again.”

Blinking back at him, you then uttered sincerely, “I promise.”

“Good,” a visible weight then faded from his shoulders as he let go of you and straightened back up to his full height. 

As you stayed on the outskirts of the party, one of your fingers curved to trace the lines of the fine glass still clutched in your grasp. 

Soon your eyes flickered up from the liquid remaining in the goblet and landed on the other guests. Elegant crinoline gowns swooshed and swayed to the music emanating from the small string quartet in the corner, acting as a heartbeat for the lords and ladies of London as they danced the night away. 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a voice then found not only your brother’s ears, but yours as well. 

Twisting slightly, you watched as a wide grin swiftly stretched your brother’s lips, “Thomas!” he spread his arms out for the redheaded man nearly within his reach. 

As they pulled each other into a tight hug, your brother’s friend chimed in his ear, “how you doing, old chap?” before withdrawing from the embrace, though still kept one palm fast on your sibling’s shoulder. 

“Not bad, not bad–, oh, Tommy,” your brother then suddenly glanced back at you, “this is my little sister,” gesturing betwixt you both, “sister, this is Thomas, we went to boarding school together.”

Extending a hand, you smiled politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook your palm before casting his gaze back upon your chaperone, “would you mind if I stole your brother for a moment?”

“Uhm,” you glanced to your sibling before uttering, “no, of course not. Go, have fun, catch up.”

And before the pair slipped away, your brother leaned down to whisper in your ear, “be good till I get back,” to which you offered him a nod in return right before they both vanished from your sight and left you alone at the edge of the dance floor. 

Though as you slowly began to wander along the perimeter, your gaze once again affixed upon the sea of swaying pairs in the centre of the ballroom, your gentle stride then abruptly halted as a bulky figure shifted to pass you, though as the stranger attempted to, the two of you collided and the remainder of the drink in your hand splashed across his jacket.

You both froze as you slowly peeled your wide eyes up from the stain of your drink, that lightly dripped from his clothing, and instead flickered up to find the stare of the aristocrat you’d accidentally bumped into. 

“Oh god…” your heartbeat swiftly hammered in your ears, deafening out the elegant music that filled the chamber, “sir, I am so sorry, I-I wasn’t looking at where I was going and–”

“It’s alright,” he hastily put an end to your blubbering as he eyed the soaked patch, “it’ll dry,” he uttered, running a broad palm down over the wetness. Though as his gaze flickered back up to find yours, a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he then said, “well, spilling your drink on me, the least you can do is offer me your name so that I know who to warn about to the people who actually are precious about their attire.”

“Lady Y/n Y/l/n,” you averted your gaze as your knees bent in a gentle curtsy, “delighted to make your acquaintance, even under the circumstances–, again, I am so incredibly sorry…”

“You’re a lady but with such lack of grace? Well, now I understand why you aren’t on the floor dancing with someone,” he jested in a teasing tone. 

The heat that had already crept up in your cheeks fiercely worsened, “I am a great dancer, I’ll have you know!”

“Oh really?” a smile dazzled his features, “I think I’ll have to see that to believe it,” he spoke as the current song came to an end and he extended a hand out to you, “shall we?”

For a moment, you let your glance flicker about the chamber in search of your brother, though when you couldn’t spot him, you found your own palm thinking for itself and gliding into the man’s standing tall before you. 

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, the palm he slid across your waist, and used to guide you a smidge closer to his own frame, caused a shy gasp to slip past your lips long before your feet began to shift below your poofy plum coloured gown. 

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying after all,” you soon heard him note after you’d danced for a minute, your movements having been nothing short of perfection since the very first step. 

Blinking up at the blonde man holding onto you tight, you finally asked, “what is your name, sir?”

“Lord Steven Rogers,” the title rolled off his tongue as his own gaze kept yours captive, “at your service, my lady.”

“Are you from here? You don’t sound it,” you commented on his accent, “but are you?”

“That’s a good question,” a slight tilt found his head, “London is one of my favourite places and I have spent many of my years here, but it’s not where I’m from, no.”

“So, you’ve travelled a lot?” you asked as he spun you an arm’s length away from himself. 

“You could say that…” he smirked as he twirled you back into his hold, “are you?”

“Am I what?” you found yourself slightly dizzy, though not from the dancing. 

“From London?”

“Well, my family does have a place here, but I haven’t spent much of my time in the city. At least not yet, I’m hoping I can begin to now that I’m grown, though to be quite frank, I have no idea where to start.”

“I could be your guide,” his offer caught you off guard, “it might have been a few years since I last called this city my home, but I still know it like the back of my hand.”

Mouth shyly agape, you simply blinked back at him a second before uttering, “perhaps if my brother came along as a chaperone.”

“I thought you said you were grown,” the tone he used to deliver his teasing seeped directly into your bones and made you thankful of his firm grip on you as the pair of you continued to sway to the music, “a girl asks for permission and can’t be trusted on her own, but a woman however, takes exactly what she desires and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way…” his smouldering stare then briefly dipped before you heard him murmur, “so, what are you? A little girl or a woman?”

“I–…” you blinked back at him, struggling to navigate the exhilaratingly foreign situation you found yourself in. However, before you could stammer any further, the song came to a close and the surrounding couples parted ways. 

Though before you could take even one step back, his hand kept you close a moment longer as he dipped down for his breath to tickle the shell of your ear. 

“Meet me in the garden,” he whispered, causing even more goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “then you can give me your answer...” 

The cool night air kissed your cheeks as your glance flickered away from the candlelit terrace you’d abandoned only moments prior in order to stand beside the bushy mouth of the dark hedge maze further down the expanse of the estate’s garden. Faint music still found your ears as it echoed out the open windows of the grand manor where the ball still boomed. 

Then suddenly, as you were lost in your thoughts of disbelief at what you were doing, just before you could talk yourself into returning to the party, you felt your hand be grabbed before your eyes fluttered up to find the lord you’d been awaiting, his arrival haven been so sudden that it nearly caused you to jump straight out of your skin. 

Without a single word, Steve began to drag you into the maze, far away from any prying eyes and where the darkness could swallow you both whole.

“Where are you taking me–,” you attempted to ask, though as the man then abruptly stopped, what he did next stunned you to your very core. 

Pulling you close, closer than you’d ever been to any man before, he then pressed his lips to your own, sufficiently shutting you up before you could elaborate your question any further. 

The kiss was abrupt, fevered and entirely your first, leaving you dazed and reeling to catch up to the reality, to the dream you were finally expecting.

When Steve finally felt you relax into him, his feet began to shuffle and shift you back till your spine was pressed up against the denseness of the hedge behind you. 

But just as a shy whimper from you vibrated against his tongue and your fingers drifted up to whisper around his silky necktie, the snapping of a twig suddenly found your ears and caused you to jump away from your dance partner. 

Casting your glance over Steve’s broad shoulder, you spotted as the dark-haired gentleman, that your brother had so fiercely warmed you about, slithered out from the embrace of the shadows. 

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the man smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest as he continued to stare. 

Eyes wide, you then began to stammer, “Steve,” lightly patting your partner’s arm as he hadn’t yet shifted to protect you with an air of understanding, “h-he’s a–” 

“A vampire?” the aristocratic creature raised an eyebrow, “how about you take another look at the lord that just had his tongue down your throat.” 

Your panicked glare then fluttered back to Steve in front of you, however, before you could manage to push him away, his hands flew up to either side of your face and he dipped down to stare into your eyes with an intense you’d never witnessed before, somehow locking you up in his gaze as he then compelled you, “don’t scream,” and under the moonlight, you swore you saw his pupils briefly dilate as his wish slithered into your soul, “stay calm.” 

Continuing to cup your cheeks, Steve then kissed you once again. Even though his previous words had turned you completely docile in his hold, the sensation of his lips as they soon pecked away from your own, on a determined journey down over your jaw, caused you to melt away that much further.

The neckline of your deep purple gown was so wide that it exposed not only your shoulders, but also crept down scandalously low on your chest. 

Your eyes fluttered shut once more as his kisses tickled in their path down your neck, the sensation shooting straight down between your thighs. However, as soon as Steve’s lips were devouring the tender spot where the base of your throat blossomed into your shoulder, a sharp pain suddenly caused your eyes to snap back open as the vampire had sunk his teeth into you. 

You winced slightly as blood began to trickle free, your gaze locked with the other man’s as he took a step forward and closed the gap. Standing directly behind Steve, his hand then raised up to stroke your hair.

“So, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

Though you’d barely gotten to sleep an hour, you began to stir as the vampire sprawled out in front of your slumbering form kissed down your neck and swiftly sank his fangs into your shoulder. 

Wincing awake and still weak from the blood the two lords had already drained you off, your hiss soon faded into a mumble, “Buck…”

Tilting his chin back a bit, Bucky lapped up the crimson that trickled down from the bite before he whispered, “shh, you can just stay asleep…” and you noticed his hardness straining against you below the covers, “it’s okay, I don’t mind…”

You couldn’t fathom how the vampire still wasn’t satiated after everything that had happened that night, things a lady such as yourself had never dared to even imagine possible. Even now, you were still slotted in between the two naked men under the canopy of a bed in the grand estate they’d taken you to, your virgin blood still staining the sheets, or the little of it that they hadn’t lapped up for themselves to savour. 

Though the restless one before you had stirred you for another taste, Steve was still sleeping like a rock. He was laying directly behind you, his burly chest still pressed up against your spine as earlier, when he’d impulsively tried to stretch out your ass, made the decision to do something about that impossible tightness and have that little hole warm his intimidating girth while he slumbered. It made it difficult, to say the least, for rest to come to you as the sensation of his fat cock plugging you up was nearly too much for you to bear. 

“Oh, what is it?” Bucky chuckled lowly at the wince you let out as he began to nudge his dick against your puffy pussy, “are you sore?” he asked in a mocking tone, grinning wider as you nodded hazily in response, “but you like it, don’t you?” he torturously tapped the weight of his length against the creamy mess between your thighs, the sensation causing both your holes to throb and clench, making Steve’s cock still embedded deep within you seem that much more enormous, “you like it when it hurts, when the sting of pain mixes with pleasure…” he then caught your eye and compelled you, “tell me that you like it.”

“I like it,” you hear the desperate word flow out your lungs, “please don’t stop, please keep hurting me, keep biting me, drink every drop of my blood, use me however you wish, it all feels so good–, ah!” the pleas he’d made you utter were then cut off by a rippling moan as his bulbous tip suddenly caught your entrance and greedily slid back into your warmth. 

The fierce rhythm Bucky swiftly found rocked you so roughly that the movements didn’t just split your poor pussy open as he bucked up into you, but it also caused your frame to shift back against Steve and sink you down that much further on his cock, letting his heavy sack nuzzle tightly against your slick skin. 

As your whimpers filled the room and mingled with Bucky’s own grunts of pleasure, you felt the girth in your ass twitch and rapidly grow painfully hard before the arm the slumbering bloodsucker had slumped around your waist tightened as he stirred with a low rumble directly in your ear. 

“Mmm… having a little midnight snack, are we?” Steve groggily hummed from behind you as he nuzzled his nose into your tousled hair, “you know she’ll pass out soon if we keep drinking like this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bucky then slid his palm down the length of your arm, plucking up your hand till his lips ghosted against it. However, just as you let yourself hope that he’d just plant a peck upon your palm, his teeth instead pierced the flesh, right below your thumb. Although, the vampire did show some restraint as he only offered you a little nip before ripping your hand away from his mouth and holding it out for his partner to grasp, “here, you look parched,” blood already began to pool like a little puddle in your palm from how it slowly oozes out of the wound. 

Accepting the delicacy, Steve first dragged his silky tongue over the bite, before he let his fangs sink into you with a deep groan, the taste of you only making him harder. As he began to drink from your palm, his hips greedily began to rock, making you tremble between the two lords of the night from the dizzying manner they both now fucked you. 

As your moans filled the night air, Bucky’s fingers found your face in a caress before he leaned in to snuff out your sounds and let you taste the tangy iron of yourself on his tongue. Soon, his kisses began to dance down over the column of your neck, till his face was buried in your heaving tits, leaving a blossoming trail of hickeys to mark his path as he moved down to capture your nipple between his lips.  

“I know we usually only keep our dinner till the morning comes,” Bucky muttered as he nipped at your boobs, only pausing to briefly glance over your shoulder at the man behind you, “but there’s something different about this one, don’t you agree, Steve?” 

“She’s fucking delicious…” you heard him purr in your ear, “maybe you could be more than just a quick bite to eat…” both of their cocks continued to rock in harmony, filling your holes up to more than the brim, “maybe you can be our girl…” 

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tilted your head to catch both of their eyes, “for how long?” 

Keeping his neck tilted, Bucky blinked up at you and uttered, “…forever,” before he buried his teeth into the soft peak of your tit.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

Let’s talk about the significance of how Stephanie Browns first ever appearance is tied directly to a TV broadcast about Batman, and how it perfectly explains why she's such a remarkable character.

Detective Comics #647

The full sentence the TV broadcaster says is “It’s not up to some masked vigilante to protect our citizens …. No matter how good his intentions…No matter how noble his cause”.

This scene asks us to compare the characters of Batman, who the statement is textually about, and Stephanie, who is viewing it and (presumably), being inspired by it. The panel itself seems to encourage use to try to apply these lines to Steph instead of Batman, framing the latter proclamation directly above her head, almost like a text box telling us this information about her. If we apply these lines to her, we can see an idea emerge.

There is this figure, who is not only not necessary, but unacceptable on the face of it, “…No matter how good [her] intentions...” / “…No matter how noble [her] cause…”

The first time we see Stephanie brown, she is being showcased alongside a condemnation, which is followed by her disregarding the message of this broadcast, and appearing for the very first time as Spoiler.

Dismissal and Stephanie ignoring this condemnation continues on to be one of the central facets of Stephanie’s character. In the same introduction arc we already see the dismissal/disregard dynamic established.

Batman and/or Robin tell her to Fuck Off, she chooses not to:

Detective #649

This pattern continues on for some time. She is dismissed by Batman

Robin #16, Robin #26, Robin #50 (1993)

And by Tim Drake/Robin:

Robin #25, Robin #35, and Robin #26 (1993)

And by her own mother:

Robin #71 (1993)

When she finally becomes an official part of the team in 2001, there is a break in this pattern. But, as always, Stephanie is eventually pushed out again:

Gotham Knights #37 (2000)

But, as always, Steph says “fuck that”, and refuses to stop.

Even in the face of dear friends agreeing she should give it up.

Batgirl #38 (2000)

And when Steph is brought in as Robin, she is again dismissed, in this case “Fired” soon after. She doesn’t quit of course, leading to the disastrous events of War Games.

Robin #128 (1993)

And when she comes back from being “dead” she is dismissed again, by Robin.

Robin #182 (1993)

This isn’t every time someone tells her to quit being Spoiler, but instead a showcase of how prevalent the Dismissal/Disregarding dynamic is for her character.

I am working on two other posts, one which will explain in depth Why the way she was “fired” as Spoiler has everything to do with Bruce Wayne’s own hangups and emotionally manipulative quirks and very little to do with her own skill level. The other will analyze why she feels the compulsion to be keep being Spoiler even after having Every reason to quit and being told to do so hundreds of times.

However, for the purposes of this post, all that matters is that this Dismissal/Disregarding dynamic exists and is a huge and reoccurring part of Stephanie’s character.

Whether or not you think she “deserved” how often she was rejected, and whether or not you think her disregarding the rejection was “good” or not doesn’t come into play here.

For now, let’s focus on the implications this dynamic has for her character in a meta sense, as a character who is used and discarded.

A character who is for all intents and purposes, the narrative punching bag. She endures character dismissal and belittling, three separate backstory instances of sexual harassment as a child and teenager, teenage pregnancy, abuse, taking care of a parent struggling with addiction, brutal and (debatably) sexualized torture, character assassination, death, retconned death, and further character assassination until 2009, where she finally gets her own solo comic, and a modicum of respect. The thing that separates the horrible shit Stephanie goes through and the bad things that happen to other characters is only rarely are Stephanie’s struggles treated as significant on their own, and almost always her narrative is used for drama or to prop up Robin Tim Drake’s plot. Very rarely does she get treated with the care and attention her character merits.

But let’s go back to that news broadcast, all the way back in Detective #647. How does she take it, when we are told, when Stephanie is told, first thing, straight out of the gate, plain and simple: No matter how good your intentions, no matter how noble your cause, you is not enough, or you’re too much, or your just not right?

It is met by a triumphantly tragic: “And?”

Stephanie hears from the VERY start the same refrain she will hear for years and years: she is not good enough, she needs to go home, she needs to quit and she does the exact thing she will continue to do every following time she is told this: she puts on the damn Spoiler outfit and she still tries anyway. Again and again.

The next time we see Stephanie Brown after this, the second time we ever see her character, she has donned the Spoiler costume, and she’s got to work. “And?” She seems to say. “As if!” She seems to shout. What a perfectly awe inspiring thing, and what a perfect summary of what makes Stephanie Brown so damn cool.

For better or worse, you cannot keep her down. I love Stephanie Brown so much.

And if you want to read a comic which understands this, which treats the terrific character of Stephanie Brown with respect and love, and which for the first time maybe ever lets her stubborn refusal to give up go her way? Read Batgirl (2009)!!

Batgirl #3 (2008) & Bruce Wayne: The Road Home - Batgirl (2010)

[chatsukimi]

ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋꜱ

featuring: touchstarved!gojo, slight enemies to lovers. synopsis: gojo satoru can't understand why he keeps wanting to spar with you... until one time, you two get a little too close. masterlist

sparring with satoru is a pain above all else. yaga has been assigning you to hand to hand combat with satoru for weeks now- a suspiciously long amount of time without switching partners.

you kick, dodge a punch, and stare up at his shameless smile. each time you come close to landing a hit, he turns on infinity, then poof! your opportunity rushes out the window.

"no techniques allowed." you grit your teeth.

"oops." he holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "sorry, forgot."

he certainly did not forget.

this time, he charges at your torso, his annoyingly long arm closing distance on your shoulder at breakneck speed. you feel the limb dislocate. you wince. using his upper hand, gojo grabs your arms and pins you to the gymnasium floor. the air is knocked out of your lungs.

he's panting, his blue eyes clambering over you, under him. like always, he's too close to you- so close you see your own figure in the reflection of his watery irises. you could lift your hand up an inch to brush the sweat from his forehead. always. way too close.

his fingers trail across your elbow up towards your collarbone- whoosh.

infinity on again. he lets out a long exhale, scrunching his eyes shut as though pained.

that's when gojo thinks he's safe.

only, he's not really.

instead of giving up, you close your hand around the infinity and pull the whole thing, gojo and his infinity, towards you. your legs drag around his hips.

his eyes widen.

your hand pushes his chest then in the brisk manoeuvre, you're on top of him.

you think you see his soul poke its head out his mouth, tipped ajar in shock.

you don't know why you do what you do next. in some depraved performance, your fingers close in on his windpipe. you don't squeeze; the imagery is enough to satisfy. snowy white eyelashes fluttering to meet your gaze, the groan echoing out from his throat, the tight strain in his chest as he breathes shallowly, letting you way too close.

"they're watching," he murmurs.

shoko and geto. fear washes over you, and you're about to let go-

his own hand closes around your wrist.

he's staring at you darkly, goading you to move.

"they're watching," he says again, his hands suddenly at your waist pulling you closer. his tongue flicks over his bottom lip.

you're almost laying on his chest, face to face with your own deadly consumption.

"how long have you been beating me up just to get this close?" you tease.

"huh?"

truly innocently desperately confused, satoru has the gall to tighten his grip, hoisting himself up until he's sitting to lean over you again- if only slightly.

"we're just sparring, aren't we?" and he's telling himself this as his nose bumps against yours. and he's lying to himself that the way he's exploring your body is an act of aggression, not an act of compulsion. "you've been playing dirty tricks on me, but i can do it better."

dirty tricks? you think you see the thought passing through his concentrated face.

unfair, unfair, unfair-

how dare you provoke him let down his infinity? who do you think you are? how could you break him down through just one touch, leave him barrelling towards you for more?

unfair, unfair, unfair-

his hand rests by your jaw, stroking up your cheek, taking his precious time.

because sparring with you is the only time satoru gets to touch you.

he forces all his common sense out of his brain as he whispers, frustration coursing through his tone, "you're weak. your form is full of openings." and he's almost kissing you-

"time out, time out." shoko's voice cuts through the haze.

you feel you two being dragged apart by shoko and geto. the latter frowns at the white haired menace who's temporarily lost his obnoxious pride, silent.

the moment is awkward for everyone except for him.

gojo cocks his head to the side, looking at geto. "we were just fighting?"

geto sighs. just fighting?

you shiver as gojo's expressionless stare sticks onto you. curious.

the fight is over already...

but then why does he want to kiss you still?

[moonstruckme]

Heyyyy so i was hoping maybe you could write some james or poly marauders x fem reader with really intense ocd and compulsions? Ive just been struggling lately and i feel like the boys might help. If not its totally fine i understand certain things are hard to write! Youre doing great! Much love 🩷

Hi, thank you for requesting angel!

cw: depictions of ocd, specifically hand washing compulsions and obsessive thoughts/seeking reassurance, I know ocd is different for every person and I'm not sure what constitutes "intense" for you or anyone else but I based this on some of the experiences of someone I know with ocd so I hope it's alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

“You’re getting hands like an old woman’s,” Sirius chides, taking his time as he smooths lotion into the crevices of your palm and the spaces between your fingers. You’re facing each other on the couch, your legs crossed underneath you while Remus reads in the armchair beside. “You’re going to be looking like my old bird soon.”

“Mean,” you murmur teasingly, doing your best to ignore the growing anxiety in your chest. 

“I’ve never said I didn’t like older women,” he hums. You laugh, and Sirius grins, his goal achieved. “You’re still gorgeous, all of you.” 

You want to be flattered, but your heart twinges in distress when he lifts your moisturized fingers to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. 

“What?” Sirius asks, though you can tell by his face that he has a sense of what you’re thinking—that you know, you know, you’ve only just washed your hands, but you’re terrified now he’s going to catch something because of you. “I can kiss my girl, can’t I?” He keeps his voice light, but his eyes are soft. “Can I?”

You nod, shoving the worst of your worries down as Sirius leans closer. He presses a pillowy soft kiss to your lips. 

“Everything’s just fine,” he murmurs. “I love you, you know that?” 

You try to let your thoughts go all soft and melty, but they keep solidifying, crystal clear and insistent and at the very front of your consciousness. 

“I love you, too,” you tell him. “Um, Sirius?” 

“Yeah, sweetness.” 

“Did you wash your hands when you came home yesterday?” 

Sirius hesitates. 

You hear a quiet rustling, and look over to see Remus lowering his book. “Dove,” he says, “we agreed we’d only reassure you the first time you asked. Sirius already answered your question yesterday.” 

“I know.” You look down at your hands. “Sorry, I’m just not sure if I’m remembering it right. You did, right?” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Remus says gently, again avoiding giving you an answer. “We just don’t want to make things worse for you.” 

You push out a breath. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” you tell Sirius, “I trust you.” 

The tension melts from his expression. He tsks at you, bumping your knee with his. “Would you stop that? What’d he just say?” Your lips give a little tug, and Sirius gives you a soft look. “I know you do, gorgeous. It’s not really you talking, is it?” 

He means your disorder. Sirius likes to talk about it the same way he talks about Remus’ pain, as though they’re things separate from you that just like to loiter around and bully his loved ones. It’s comforting, knowing he never holds your compulsions against you because he doesn’t think of them as you at all. You try to give him a better smile, but Sirius sees right through it. Gray eyes narrow on yours. 

“What is it?” 

“I feel like I need to wash them again,” you confess. 

He frowns, lips pulling to one side. “You don’t, though, baby.” 

“I know,” you say, agonized. 

“Try not to, okay?” 

“It’s hurting you to do it so often, sweetheart,” Remus reasons. “Don’t your hands feel raw?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. But the feeling of griminess is worse. You tuck your lip between your teeth, face hot with emotion and shame. 

“Take a breath.” Remus’ voice is soothing. “We’re all okay, aren’t we? Everything’s going to be fine.” 

“How do you know?” you ask, your frustration with yourself spilling over into frustration with your boyfriends. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ tone isn’t chastising but imploring. He smooths his hands over yours, and you manage not to pull them away for fear of contaminating him. “What if we have a hug instead, yeah?” 

You take the offer, feeling conflicted and all wrong but desperate for comfort. You’re extremely conscious of his hands where they come to rest on your lower and mid back and yours so near his face where your arms are wrapped around his neck, but Sirius somehow knows what you need, squeezing you tight until the worst of your worries squish out of you. They’re eclipsed by the feeling of being cared for.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I know this is hard for you, but we’re only trying to help. You know we love you, right?” 

You breathe out. “Yeah.” 

Sirius gives you a little squeeze, teasing now. “You sure? It doesn’t feel like you do. Remus, do you think she gets it?” 

“I think she might know that we love her,” Remus says placidly, turning his page, “but likely not how much.” 

“Mm. Hear that?” One hand sneaks to your side, and the next squeeze makes you gasp out a laugh, ticklish. “You don’t get it.” 

“No, I do! I do!” 

“S’not your fault, dove.” Remus is watching you from the corner of his eye, smiling faintly. “It’s more love than most people could conceptualize.” 

“Oh.” You’re giggling now. “So you guys are just extra special? I love you way more than—ah!”

“Cruel, unfounded claims,” Sirius accuses, digging his clever fingers into your side. 

You reach for his hand, but you’re too weak with laughter to wrestle it away. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Couldn’t let you finish,” he says simply. “Sounded like the beginnings of blasphemy.” 

“Good lord,” says James. You didn’t hear him come in, but he’s sweaty and breathing hard from having just finished his run. “By the screaming coming from in here I thought we were under attack.” 

“What would you have done if we were?” Remus asks curiously. 

“Well, I…I was running in here to see what happened. I’d have fought them off, I suppose.” 

Remus smiles down at his book, and Sirius pats James’ midsection fondly. “Good thing it’s never come to that, darling.” 

James stares at him. “And how am I meant to take that?” 

“I think you’d do very well in a fight, Jamie,” you say, taking the opportunity to slip out of Sirius’ grasp. 

James turns to you, a smile spreading over his face. “I think so, too. Thanks, lovie.” He bends towards you. You think to take his face in your hands, but remember your fears at the last second, bringing them down to your sides. If any of the boys notice, they don’t mention. 

“Have they victimized you, my lovely girl?” James asks between kisses. “No one’s ever as nice to you when I’m gone, are they?” 

“I resent that.” Sirius pokes your side, making you giggle and bend away from him. “Ever thought that maybe she likes when I’m not nice to her?” 

“Not really, no,” says James, flopping down onto the couch. 

You’re holding your hands away from you, hesitant to touch the couch or your skin or anything until you feel like they’re clean. Sirius really had managed to distract you for a while, but now your anxiety is back in full force, your heart in your throat and dread a swirling mass in your gut. 

When you look up, Remus is watching you. 

“Maybe we should get out of the house,” he suggests. “We could go for a walk. Does that sound okay, sweetheart?” 

“Um…” It makes your heartbeat ratchet just to think about, the barrier of time and physical space between you and the next time you’ll actually be able to wash your hands. But you know that’s the point. 

“That’s a great idea.” James catches on quickly, more than familiar with your compulsions. He takes your hand in his easily, encouraging you up from the couch. “It’s a beautiful day out. Lots of leaves on the ground, you’ll love it.” 

You smile. You think that you must be easy to please, because leaves to crunch underneath your shoes does make the idea of a walk sound more enticing. 

“But you only just got in,” you say. 

“I could use a cooldown,” James says easily. “I came in here thinking my sweethearts were under attack, my heart rate hasn’t had a chance to come down.” 

“I feel like it’s important to note,” says Sirius, grabbing his scarf and your hat from the coat closet, “that there were two other men here in the house when we were under this alleged attack. You weren’t our only hope.” 

“I feel like it’s important to note that that’s sexist,” you say.

“Very,” James agrees, swiping your hat from Sirius and putting it on for you. “I’d think our best defenders would be the ones who spend the most time working out.” 

“Mm. Not Sirius, then.” 

“Certainly not.” 

A hand fists in the back of your shirt, and you choke on a gasp as Sirius yanks you back to his side. He wraps an arm securely around your waist. “Remus,” he says smoothly, “did y/n look like she was having a very easy time fighting me off a couple of minutes ago?” 

“I’m staying out of this one,” Remus says as he shrugs on his coat, but his tongue is poking into his cheek. You find you can’t help smiling, either.

[eccentricallygothic]

| Older |

Pairing: Boyfriend's Dad!John Price | Son's Girlfriend!You.

Description: Guys your age just aren’t the same.

Warning(s): Infidelity, age gap, Cap being a badass, teasing, thumb sucking, stuffie riding, Daddy kink, Cap smokes, allusions to biting, little boob play, lowkey intimidation kink bc it's me, power imbalance-ish. MDNI. 

Note: I, infact, am not sorry. I guess the son and Reader are in college/uni? Ps, Barry Sloane is becoming an obsession. HELP!  

MASTERLIST

. . . 

It wasn't supposed to happen and you didn't mean for it to.

Not at first, anyways. 

But your boyfriend's good natured, authoritative, brave and yet mysterious dad was always so calm and cool and laid-back with a cigarette dangling between his lips and his thick maney arms and tattoos that often hid under his shirts. He always knew what to say and what to do. Nothing was a big deal to him and he always had your boyfriend's back in the most warm and wholesome way. He was a man who understood how to take care of things and he knew everything and you were convinced there was not a problem he didn't know his way around.

At first it was curious glances on your part, then it was friendly and innocent grazes on his. It moved onto lasting looks and then longing touches. The two of you never said a word, though. No. There was no address, no discussion. Just a chilly day when you had been a little cold and your boyfriend hadn't been home. 

Class had been a little too upsetting and your boyish partner had been too caught up in his own worries. You had been in need of comfort and some big love and John had been your knight in shining armor. He had come around looking for his son in that truck of his, sensed your distress, sat beside you and reassured you like no one had ever before. His gentle voice and careful caressing was something you'd never forget. However, your other memories of that day were foggy, you were not sure whether it was out of how small your mind had become or due to the burning guilt of what it had started. But one thing had led to another and one moment you were nuzzling into his warm arms, then your soft cheek was rubbing against his beard, next your noses were touching and then your lips were on each other’s, his mustache tickling your skin as he had went about exploring you with his scarred manly hands. So on and so forth, it hadn't stopped from that day on.

Time was against the two of you and every minute was valuable. 

But that didn't stop the Captain from being an absolute tease who often brought tears to your eyes. 

Like he was doing right now. 

“Daddy, please…” You whined as you rocked yourself harder on the soft toy, your baby blue dress bunching on your thighs that were covered in his bite marks -thank God your boyfriend was out of town on a school errand- as your hair fell about your face. “Hnng…” Your hips ached a little from the strain you were putting on them but the heat scorching your loins was way too compulsive for you to even think about stopping. 

John's heavy form was relaxed against the headboard as he lazily took another drag of his cigarette, cool eyes watching you almost casually. “What is it, babygirl?” You whined at the name he used and how the baritone of his voice drilled into your soul as he did so, causing for more slick gush out of you as a result. “Hm?” Your pussy was so puffy and needy. 

“Need you, Daddy, please!” You cried out your plea, feeling yourself on the verge of tears. 

“You do?” You vigorously nodded to his raised eyebrow. John snorted before tilting his head to one side and shrugging. “I don't know, baby” you pouted at his words, gulping a thick bile down your parched throat. Your lips were so dry. “Mr. Octs looks quite cozy tucked in between your pretty little thighs” it didn't matter what you looked like, he had a way of always making you feel like the smallest most precious thing alive. 

“But Daddy!” Your protest transformed into a moan midway.

The soldier exhaled a white cloud of eye watering smoke, his eyes squinting as he did so. “Aw,” he chuckled, leaning forward to finger your hair away so he could look at you better. “But what, precious?” His eyes darkly flickered down to your flushed lips and he connected the poisonous stick to his lips again, its lit end glowing a bright amber as he did so. 

“W- Want you!” You were dangerously close but it wasn't enough. “Want you o- only!” You needed him most, always. 

“You do?” He feigned surprise as his voice strained due to how he pushed the cloudy venom into his lungs.

“Yes!” You couldn't believe it. You were doing a hell of a job at showing him what he appeared to be dubious about. He was too mean. But that was exactly what you loved so much about him; the perfect mix of strict and soft.

John shrugged. “I don't believe you.” 

Your eyes widened. “Please!” Your voice became a little too agitated and the man looked at you a bit dangerous now. 

One of his eyebrows raised. “Please… what?” 

Your pussy clenched. God. He was too much. Your chest that spilled over the neckline because of how he had pulled your dress down ached from how it was heaving. “Please, D- Daddy…” A satisfied half smile quirked one side of his mouth up. “Please, n- need you…”

“Yeah?” He cupped one side of your face and collected the half tear that threatened to trickle down your face. 

It was a sign. You must show him. Daddy needed to be earned.

So you obediently wrapped your lips around the thumb he pushed in your mouth after tracing its shape with his rough thumb pad, exhaling through his nose as his eyes squinted again and the sight made you moan. You felt your cheeks hollow as your lips made an embarrassingly loud squeaking sound but you were way too far gone. 

“Oh, baby” John chuckled as he looked down at how you were animalistically grinding against the plushie. Your knees were getting tired and you were desperate. You needed him to lay you down or bend you over or put you on your side and take you until you were full and sore from his girth. “You are drowning Mr. Octs down there” his dirty words both added to the heat in your cheeks and between your legs. You moaned out loud and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Pweeee—” you tried to plead but his thumb alone was too much for you. You were just a little girl after all. You gagged. 

“Is that how you'll suck me dry, baby? You will be good like that for me?” He watched your glittery lip gloss coat his digit as he took a small suck of his dying cigarette. You hoped with everything you had for him not to light a new one. You eagerly nodded. “Gonna be good for your Daddy?” You meweled out a yes, feeling a cold droplet of sweat trickle down the side of your face.

“Mmm” he snuffed out the cigarette in the glittery ashtray that you had bought for him in secret and hid in your boyfriend's presence -since he didn't smoke and neither did you- like your life depended on it. “And how would you like Daddy to be good to you?” The remainder of the smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke.

“Nnng” John pumped his thumb in and out of your lips now. You settled the plushie in a slightly different position so you could free one hand. “Dada~” you lisped out through his digit as you cupped your pussy before moving to your ass and squeezing it before giving yourself a light spank, the twinge of pain bringing you to your orgasm and you threw your head back, feeling your thighs violently shake as you rubbed your cunt hot on Mr. Octs' belly, feeling your insides boil over with the sweet turbulent pleasure.

“Good girl,” the Captain praised as he unplugged your mouth to shrug his flannel off. “You did such a good job for Daddy” your hands desperately darted to your boobs as you squeezed them and pinched the nipples to show him how you wanted them to be treated. Although you knew right then that John would do better and more. He always did. It was the reason why you betrayed your loving boyfriend the way you did. “Now lay back for Daddy and let him take care of you.”

You obeyed but your mouth began to run from the sensitivity and need. “I— Daddy— I—”

“Hey,” the old(er) man pushed you further down with one of your boobs and then crawled over you like a vulture. “Shut up” he softened the blow of his words with a soft kiss, making your upper lip tickled with his bushy mustache. “I got this” he knew you had nothing valuable to say. Your mind just ran too fast sometimes. Fortunately, you had your boyfriend's dad to take the weight off your shoulders. “I got you.” 

. . . 

I appreciate feedback, reblogs and thots. Let's cry about our Daddy together <3 

[fear-is-truth]

how do you think patrick will react when you try to break things off with him?

breaking up with patrick bateman .ᐟ.ᐟ

tw ; mentions of drug use, homicide

a/n: apologies for the word salad.. my brain is kinda fried from my classes. also he’s such a pretty crier

𝜗ϱ ┆ denial & gaslighting

his immediate reaction would likely be disbelief. the idea of someone rejecting him, particularly someone he views as an extension of his life, would be incomprehensible to him. this disbelief would manifest as condescension and dismissal, accompanied by gaslighting.

“you’re leaving me?” he’d say with a strained smile, eyes narrowing to slits. “that’s ridiculous. you don’t mean that.”

patrick wouldn’t process the emotional weight of your decision, instead assuming that you’re acting irrationally or that something external has influenced you. his need to maintain control would drive him to undermine your perspective, likely accusing you of being under the influence of drugs.

“have you been doing too much cocaine? or maybe those diet pills? you’re not thinking clearly, darling.”

this gaslighting would be less about convincing you and more about reinforcing his own denial. patrick lives in a world where his perception is reality, and your decision to leave disrupts that. denial is his first line of defense.

𝜗ϱ ┆ manipulation & desperation

as the conversation continues, patrick would pivot to emotional manipulation. while he lacks true empathy, he is an expert at imitating emotional responses to “fit in”. he’d beg you to reconsider, framing his argument that appeals to your sense of loyalty or guilt.

“think about everything i’ve done for you. everything we’ve had together. you can’t just walk away.”

if manipulation doesn’t work, his desperation would become more overt. while patrick is typically composed, cracks in his facade could begin to show. you might see a flash of raw panic in his eyes.

“you don’t know what you’re doing. you’re making a mistake.”

𝜗ϱ ┆ begging

patrick would eventually resort to begging, and this is where the irony comes in—remember the time he dumped evelyn with an air of theatrical superiority, telling her that she’s “simply not terribly important” to him.

“you can’t do this to me. please, don’t go. we can work this out—whatever this is, we can fix it. i’ll change.”

of course, he is incapable of real change, and his promises would ring hollow. but the desperation in his voice would feel oddly genuine.

𝜗ϱ ┆“i need to return some videotapes.”

when it becomes clear that he can’t sway you, patrick would retreat, unwilling to let you witness the full extent of his unraveling. maintaining appearances is critical, even in moments of personal crisis. with a curt, almost robotic tone, he’d excuse himself with his signature non sequitur:

“i need to return some videotapes.”

this statement, bizarre and out of place, serves two purposes. first, it allows him to escape the confrontation without completely breaking down in front of you. second, it reaffirms his facade of control.

𝜗ϱ ┆ private despair

once alone, patrick would no longer be able to hold himself together. the breakup would be a complete fracturing of his identity. while he outwardly projects confidence, his inner world is fragile and deeply insecure. your rejection would strip away the validation he relies on to maintain his ego. he’d cry—silent, bitter tears of frustration and humiliation.

𝜗ϱ ┆ homicide as a coping mechanism

but patrick is incapable of processing emotions in a healthy way, so the tears wouldn’t lead to introspection or change. instead, they’d fuel a darker spiral—he’d channel his feelings of loss into compulsive, destructive behaviour. violence is often an outlet for him, and your departure could serve as a catalyst for a spree of homicidal acts. (e.g killing homeless people)

[alastors-antlers]

a brief take on the whole "Alastor's smile is permanent" discussion

hello all!

I've seen a lot of people theorizing lately that Alastor actually smiles all the time because his smile is magically, physically fixed onto his face. All of this seems to come from the fact that he's practically grimacing rather than smiling during the scene where he breaks down in ep8:

As well as this frame of his deal with Charlie: (lower res sorry)

I will say, I do like some of the implications of this theory. The sheer spite of his creditor forcing him to smile as an addition to their deal, almost like a sort of forced silence, is a neat concept. It's fun and dramatic. Plus, of all things, of course Alastor would claim the "smile at all times" policy and make it his own to pretend that it was his decision all along lol.

To be fair, though, I don't think we even need any magical compulsion to explain why he's smiling while he's having a mental breakdown. Actually, if we assume magical compulsion, I think we lose a bit of dimension from Alastor's character. (No judgement to anyone's take though, of course -- I just think this works in the direction of his established characterization, but obviously all personal takes <3)

Hear me out:

Alastor's persona is not just for others to see.

"A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends; keeps your enemies guessing; and ensures that whatever comes your way, you're the one in control."

That makes sense given what we know about him. If he's always smiling, he seems like he has it together. You can't read him very well, especially not when he's actively trying to keep up appearances.

Now consider that when you think about ep8's fight with Heaven, we see that he's already been through so much in this one day.

He fights an army of angels, presumably not even at his own whim (if we go by his blurb about freedom in the Finale song); he loses to Adam, who he considers sloppy and mediocre; his staff, which we can assume holds some part of his power, is snapped; he comes close to being Angelic-power-killed; and to top it all off, he knows that others watched him get injured and then apparently die or flee, all of which would ruin the public image that he's trying to maintain. It wouldn't even be unreasonable for us to assume that he knows Vox was watching, given that Vox kind of has eyes everywhere.

In a moment like this, in the finale, you could say that Alastor has lost (at least on some level) everything that we know matters to him. He doesn't have access to all of his magic, and it's limiting him. He's reminded that he doesn't have freedom or control over his own destiny. He certainly has taken massive hits to his powerful, composed persona. But he's desperate, and furious, and terrified, and clinging on.

That's why he's smiling.

It's not that he can't stop because he physically can't. It's that he can't stop because to him, the smile is the last thing that is still within his power. When there are so many moving parts that he can't predict what happens to him next, he can control how he responds to it. In these last fragments of autonomy, there is solace.

He needs to keep telling himself that he has it together and that he'll eventually scheme his way free, that there's a solution, that he won't be in chains forever; because letting his pretense slip would be admitting that it's all starting to actually get to him. That maybe this time, he doesn't have an escape plan.

In addition, if you read his interactions throughout the series, we also see something else: Alastor's reputation is of paramount importance to him. At multiple points throughout the series, when others disrespect him by discounting his power or presence, he gets visibly annoyed. And in the battle, we see a glimpse of the part of his personality he seems to be trying to leave behind - a normal Alastor, who's just some guy from Louisiana. No transatlantic accent; no unflappable malice; no sharp wit waiting at the ready. Maybe even unremarkable.

Dropping his smile - arguably the most prominent part of his brand - would be admitting that in reality, he's not the Radio Demon of legend that he aspires to project. And if he doesn't have that... where would he be?

[cthonic-bunny]

1. personal synastry and composite experiences and observations

Do not interact if you are a minor. (18+)

Sun in 8th house synastry: I was the house person they were the sun. I definitely developed insecurities I never had before as a result of this connection. With the sun shining brightly on my insecurities, they were hard to ignore and even harder to not project them entirely on the sun. A lot of “you did this to me!” energy. I didn’t consider myself a jealous person until this relationship and a lot of it came from wanting to be “good enough” in the eyes of the sun person. It’s like knowing you have these darker aspects in common and wanting them to see you can bond this way and see them in a way no one can. You also end up pushing limits together. You liked this? Now WE love this. You’re addicted to that? Now WE are addicted to it. Moderation is hard to achieve with sun in the 8th house synastry. It can also bring up insecurities surrounding sex with that person specifically, if poorly aspected. Explosive reactions and emotional outbursts aren’t foreign here. The house person can feel like a vampire being sunburned, with all its ugliness revealing itself from its body because of its interaction with this person. The 8H person wants a full, in-depth analysis of the sun person’s thoughts, intentions, and motivations. The plutonic energy wants to completely envelop the sun, compulsively in some cases, to know WHY they are the way they are, and why the sun presents themselves in certain ways. This is especially true if the sun person did something to hurt the 8H person, who can feel it more than is rational. The 8H person can really struggle with getting over any emotional harm or feelings of abandonment that come from the sun person. The 8H person can potentially resent the sun person for not being able to read them as intently as they could read the sun person. The sex, if and once insecurities are worked through, can bring you so much closer to one another and to yourself. I also feel like any disturbances or intimacy problems between you two can easily be felt by others or there can be blow ups in front of people you know, because the sun is a planet that illuminates wherever the light lands, whether you like it or not. Avoid public fights, because you will kiss and makeup but the damage in other people’s eyes will be done and opinions will be made. The 8H person might be able to see through any facade the sun person puts up, and this could lead to deep discussions that could be extremely healing for the Sun who might have to work through some things. The 8H person can also teach the sun person how to make more money and maybe even encourage them to start their own business. They can be known as a couple that makes a lot of money together. The sun person can also give sugar daddy/mommy vibes and the 8H the sugar baby, even if it neither one of the people involved are rich-rich. This is a highly binding placement. You two might find it difficult or even impossible to separate from each other even if the relationship has run its natural course. You guys are known as the couple that is “stuck” to one another.

Moon in 5th house synastry: *weird* but, for those who have this placement with a significant other, do you love to smell their body odor? I think in the house of children and fertility, it makes sense to love your partner’s pheromones. Something as weird as the smell of their armpits or stinky feet becomes comforting, idk?? This house is also really fun, and you can get a lot of emotional fulfillment out of acting like children together. 5H is ruled by Leo, so I also found that we had a lot of fun putting on “shows” for one another, and sort of making up our own characters and accents to make the other giggle. People are also really excited for the prospect of us having children together, and you’ll have friends volunteering to babysit or be the godparent of your unborn children LOL. Dressing up nice and going out on dates to somewhere with a great ambiance can be a great way to feel connected. Sharing perfume, or gifting each other perfumes or colognes. Loving the scents they wear. Same taste in candles? Candles as gifts. Lots of watching TV together? Having “shows” that feel wrong to watch without the other. Being called pretty by the other means a lot, and being pretty in each other’s eyes makes you feel good.

Moon in 12th house synastry: 12H synastry tends to have an awful reputation, and I get it when it’s a relationship that isn’t meant for you. However, my moon falls in my best friend’s 12H, and it is one of my favorite placements of ours. We have a telepathic connection where we can just look at the other and know what’s up. You preemptively know what will bother the other person and find it hard to understand how other people wouldn’t have assumed that thing would annoy your person. You understand each other’s motives, and can provide the ultimate shoulder to cry on or ear to listen with. When it’s a new interaction it can feel a bit intense, because how are you in my head!!! I feel like you can read my thoughts! It was like that for the both of us. It’s like, when together, both our consciousnesses transported to another realm where we are mutually perceiving something and our thoughts are being put on a radio for the other to listen to. Very spiritual relationship. You KNOW the vibes, and those feelings will be verified through the other person who already felt the same. She will never be wrong in my eyes and I will defend her to the death. We don’t even have to speak on certain days, but we can feel whatever mood the other one is in and check-up on each other accordingly. Whenever we have a strange dream or nightmare, the first thing we do is text each other and try to analyze what it could mean. I as the 12H person also dreamt of us becoming best friends before we formally met. The dreams i would have of her would always be loaded with spiritual symbolism. We also grew up with the same level of emotional attachment to our personal spiritualities and shared religion, which plays a large role in our understandings of one another. Most people just won’t get it, but she always will. She could read my crazy journal entries if she wanted to. 12H moon synastry is just unconditional love. Between friends at least, it feels like a long-lost twin connection. Also, her and I had gotten matching tattoos before we even knew of each other, both of them being for the same spiritual meaning!

Composite Mars in 3rd house: Lots of talking during sex, and lots of car sex— It might sometimes feel like that’s the easiest thing to talk about, or the conversation always steers to that direction. Sending nudes? Sexting. Maybe the only way you two could engage your sexual desire for one another is through sexting, because distance might not permit the full physical expression. If you don’t have a lot of experience knowing the other’s communication style, it can lead to a bit of random defensiveness or perceiving the other as communicating abrasively. I think it can lead to one trying to get reactions out of the other by saying something out of pocket.

Composite Mercury in 12th house: Pay attention to the dreams you have of this person! They will seriously tell you a lot about your dynamic, but don’t take them at face value! Lots of mystical elements to your dreams about them specifically, so maybe reviewing tarot card meanings and astrology concepts can help you decipher the meanings of your dreams. You might find it easier than expected to confide in each other or rant about your brain’s inner workings together. “I don’t know why I’m saying all that-“ or psychoanalyzing each other for fun. Talking about your less-than-desirable attributes. Being honest about your deceptive tendencies or specific lies you’ve told and why. Oversharing things that will usually make other people uncomfortable in the same context (like talking about your exes or failed situationships on a first date). Difficulties communicating when it’s not in person because it leaves too much room for confusion. Deceit is a real possibility though, with someone voluntarily “leaving out details” about their life outside of the relationship to avoid ruining the flow of energy or the dynamic. Having each other saved on your phones under fake names. Having to hide that you’re talking to this person from other people. One of you withdrawing communication to manipulatively make the other think about you more. Taking turns being each other’s therapist. Thinking about each other often but never expressing that, or the extent to which you think of one another. Thinking about the other at night before going to bed. “I started catching feelings for the girl that I’m currently having sex with, so it’s safe to say we don’t talk anymore, unless of course we’re having sex” in Sasquatch .22 by Bay Faction.

Composite Venus in 12th house: There really is a secretive component to this interaction that can feel impossible to bypass. Your family, friends, or society might not “approve” of you two together. One or both of you can be cheating on someone with this person. Only being able to meet up or be affectionate at night or in extremely private settings. The privacy of the relationship can help you open up a lot more than you’d expect to, because there’s no one but you two to perceive the other in this context. No judgments on how you two should behave with one another, so “let’s fully enjoy the moment while it lasts.” No one understanding your interaction or it’s purpose, and you probably don’t understand it either. Sending telepathic love notes. Longing. Intimate and romantic sex that haunts you or catches you off guard. Never wanting to be the first one to admit you’ve caught feelings. Ruining your sleep schedule to spend time with one another. Dreaming about romantically linking with them before it ever happens. Withdrawing once feelings start feeling real. The song “Lips of Angel” by Hinder reminds me of Composite Venus in 12H. “Illicit Affairs,” “August,” and “False God” by Taylor Swift. “Why Can’t I?” by Liz Phair. Gato de Noche by Bad Bunny. Sex by The 1975.

Lilith in 8th house synastry: Wanting to try things sexually with this person that wasn’t necessarily exciting with other partners. “You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll let you.” Possibly experimenting with or preferring BDSM with one another. That Lana lyric that’s like: You fucked me so good that I almost said “I love you.” It might also be controversial if people knew you’ve had sex with one another. Revenge sex? As in, you two having sex might indirectly be spiting someone else, and it kind of feels like you’re dishing out delicious karma on a surprising silver platter— “lol if only they knew” You two might have fun misbehaving together. Doing what you both know you’re not supposed to be doing can make everything feel better, and even more reason to keep doing what you’re doing. Lana Del Rey in Diet Mountain Dew: “you’re no good for me, but baby I want you.” Wanting to be dangerous together. “Leave me bruised so I can’t forget you.” “Seeing you tonight is a bad idea, right?” This placement somewhat reminds me of a union between the death card and the devil card in tarot, with an emphasis on risk-stained sexual liberation. You can become symbolic of temptation in each other’s lives, so it’s hard to deny your impulses. Toxic by Britney Spears.

-D 🖤🕯

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 8

tw: explicit content, yandere. 3k words. Geto/Reader. omega!reader, alpha!geto. yandere!geto, captivity, 0 fucking boundaries oh my god, EXTREMELY controlling behavior, public sex but is it public if they're just monkeys? geto says no

Prompt: Omegas kept in chastity cages so their pleasure belongs only to others.

So now you’re locked in a chastity cage.

You know the purpose of it. You don’t bother listening to Geto’s prattling, what he says the purpose of it is.

If you have to sit through more of the cult leader theatrics he so easily falls into, you might actually start screaming at him.

He’s doing it to humiliate you, and it’s working. He wants you to know that not only can you not cum without permission – you have to ask to touch yourself in the first place.

You have to go to him and confess your desires, instead of rubbing one out in some secret moment you can steal away from his prying gaze.

It’s even more humiliating that you now need to ask him to unlock you every time you want to use the restroom.

Were he not aware that it would send you into complete hysterics, Geto would probably follow you into the bathroom and wipe you afterwards, too.

And it’s not even that he doesn’t want you to go into hysterics. Geto, you’ve started to learn, loves you like that, especially.

Terrified, panting and panicked, tears of fury and anguish blotting your vision. Leaking pheromones that beg for him to comfort you, reassure you. The scent of your desperation flitting through his senses.

You think he’s saving it, like a little treat for himself when he has a bad day.

Portioning off the pieces of your sanity into bite sized snacks for him to indulge in at his leisure.

This is the next bite, it seems.

It’s his eyes that give him away. Dark and violet, dilating as you unwillingly scent the air with your arousal. 

“I just want to make sure you’re coming to me when you need something,” He purrs with too much satisfaction to be innocent, “You’re my omega. It’s my duty as an alpha to take care of your needs… and you’re so quiet about these things sometimes. This will help you learn to rely on me.”

Geto says it, like he’ll unlock you if only you ask. Like you’re being stubborn, and an easy climax is only a request away.

And you’re sure it will be, the first time. Maybe even the second, and the third. Perhaps fourth, too, if he’s being generous.

But Geto is a greedy little thing to his core. Never matter what you concede to him in the moment, no matter how satisfied he is, he’ll always be back for more, eventually. More of your submission, more of your pleasure at his hands, more of you.

He’ll drink it all up and set his empty cup in front of you, waiting patiently for you to pour out every last drop of your soul for him to savor.

All your struggles are in vain, of course, as they always are with Geto. He always wins. It’s like a compulsion – he can’t resist the urge to smother you every time he sees you.

When you give in for the first time it doesn’t feel relieving. All the pent up lust and desire; Geto had stoked it gleefully, not with any touches, but just with his presence as an alpha.

The broad, well-muscled figure he takes absolutely no shame in baring to you in nothing but a towel, pheromones that ooze off of him because your presence arouses him, the subtle bulge expertly hidden by his robes, which he makes no secret of when he pulls you into his lap.

The scent of him in your shared bed that accompanies you to sleep. A startlingly chaste embrace, his handsome face nuzzling into your neck, breathing you in like your scent is his air.

You’d never wanted to touch yourself so bad until he’d so blatantly removed the option. Never been so desperately ashamed of it before now.

When you do give in, it’s with the knowledge that you were always going to. And you’ll do it again, no matter how much you hate it.

But Geto doesn’t even let you hate it. Doesn’t let you pretend he’s just doing it all for himself (he is, he is, he is). Always acts like he's doing you a favor, like all you have to do is ask. All your struggles are by your own design, to hear him tell it.

It feels like the beginning of a long battle you never wanted to fight in the first place. You want out of the battlefield, out of the war. You’re trapped in the trenches with only Geto to guide you – and he only wants to pull you further in.

And he’s good at it. Too good at it. Asking you which way you think is out, letting you think it’s all your idea, ever-smiling and confident in the knowledge that all your turns will lead to him eventually.

The first time you give in, he’s almost giddy with self-righteousness. You almost expect him to push you down or bend you over, but instead he smiles kindly as he unlocks the belt and pulls the cage off you. Carefully catching it in his hands when it falls free, because god forbid you go without it for too long.

“Would you like to do it yourself?” He purrs, with barely contained excitement, “Or would you like me to help?”

You’d like him to leave the room so you could take care of it yourself. But you already know what he’ll say to that. He barely lets you use the restroom alone.

“I can do it myself,” You mutter, sitting on the edge of the bed while he nods indulgently. His smile is awful and wide. You have to look away from it.

His pheromones pick up, too, predictably, at the sight of you sitting, legs spread, cunt wide open.

Geto had graciously allowed you to choose whether or not to wear underwear over the cage, and you hadn’t seen much point in an extra step every time you begged him for a bathroom break.

You don’t meet his eyes. You stare at the floor as you spread yourself with your fingers, tracing and teasing at your entrance while you rub over your clit.

It’s laughable, how easy you are, now. How much you shiver at the lightest touch. The understimulation has you twitching, flinching away from the contact, dipping your fingers into your slick before you go back to rubbing over the hood of your clit. Rocking your hips to get the gentler, indirect stimulation just right –

“There, there,” The sound comes from across the room, “That’s just it. Would you like me to hold your legs for you?”

Almost on cue, as if your body is conspiring against you, your legs jerk as if trying to shut against the sudden, blinding contact.

(More likely, he’d simply noticed your urges before you had. You’re not sure which is worse.)  

You bite your lip, “It’s just – it’s just been a while, I’m fine.”  The last words come out petulant, demanding, but Geto lets you have it.

A few minutes in, still experimentally rubbing over your clit, alongside it, plunging your fingers in (shorter, smaller, not like his large hands), you are fighting the part of yourself that wants Geto to really let you have it.

This is harder, much harder than you’d thought it would be, especially because of the audience. Being watched is the opposite of arousing for you, even though your stupid omega biology is trilling at the presence of an alpha.

You must smell delicious right about now. He’s probably salivating at the thought of your taste. Ready and willing to run that hot tongue all over your cunt, gliding perfectly right where you need it, soft and slick and squishy and just enough to get you there, it always was.

Oh, he knows, too. You can feel him, even without looking, shifting his weight with an eagerness, crossing and uncrossing his arms with restless arousal. He’d been aroused before, you could smell that, but now you can smell him getting hard.

It wouldn’t be strange. You’re masturbating in front of him. This would actually be one of the most normal things he’d done –

Except you know it’s not your failed attempts at fingering yourself that’s doing it for him.

It’s that you’re failing.

It’s that you need – that you could use his help, that you know he is there, that he can smell you getting more and more frustrated as you shiver and scoot and impatiently rub yourself into painful overstimulation.

Geto knows he could do better. He knows you’re choosing to stumble helplessly over your own pleasure rather than ask him to help you. Like you’re bad at this, rather than your movements being awkward and rushed because you have an unwanted audience.

When you finally manage – after far too long – to wrench yourself to the edge in scathing, dogged strokes, the climax is almost as painful as it is pleasurable. Your clit burns and buzzes as the orgasm washes over you, and your real relief is that it’s finally over.

Surprisingly, this does very little to amend your sexual frustration as a whole.

Every time, Geto does this. He watches. He won’t leave you alone. Inching closer and closer while he watches.

Sometimes he touches himself in tandem. Gives you low growls and purrs of approval when you find a spot and rhythm that works for you, a shameful trickle of heat dripping through you at the noise. Lifting you ever closer –

But he doesn’t actually “help”. Doesn’t touch you. And that’s starting to get to you, too, you can tell.

The scent of him, the one that he makes when his eyes are wide and dilated at the scent, when the throbbing between your legs becomes so uncomfortable, the heat under your skin so insistent that it’s worth it to you to ask him again, just to get rid of the infuriating urge.

Whenever he pulls off the cage you can feel your cunt pulsing already, slicking up for the inevitable in anticipation.

He has you trained like a dog, and you’re sure he knows it, too. You’re sure it turns him on.

Your heat is coming up and you know it’s just a matter of time. You won’t be able to do it alone, you won’t even be able to want to do it alone.

You’ll want him, Geto, your alpha by your side, you’ll cry and whine and beg for him and he knows it, too. You’ll feel like you’re dying whenever he’s not touching you.

Like a fever, it builds deep inside you. It has you squirming from side to side, fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing your legs to relieve some of the building ache between your legs. The cage prevents all but the most basic stimulation, pressure getting through, but little else.

And it’s worse than nothing getting through. Because if you cross your legs just tight enough, there’s a pleasant little squeeze.

If you sit back on your heel the right way it presses down, but it’s not enough.

It could never be enough; that was the point.

All it was ever going to do was get you more worked up.

An arm around your waist, pulling you against Geto’s side, shushing and holding you still like a wriggling kitten.

That’s how he always makes you feel; it’s effortless for him to take hold of you, move you, throw or pin you with just one arm. There’s no concern on his part over how much you struggle; rather, how to still that struggling without hurting you too much.

And it plays to your instincts, too. There’s a terrible, primal allure to an alpha who is strong enough to subdue you with brutal efficiency, but chooses to do so delicately, with your comfort in mind if not your consent.

He makes rules for you and he keeps to them, a reliable mate that sings to your desire to be kept, held, protected.

Your alpha will take care of you, whether you want it or not. He’ll know what you need, when you need it, and he’ll make sure you get it always. Nothing can go wrong because he won’t let it.

He’ll never get angry with you, never get tired or bored. The alpha of every omega’s dreams; calm and powerful and always acting in your best interests.

And even when you hold yourself back, even when you resist, you can’t control what happens after. How he coos over you, tells you what a good job you’ve done.

Petting your hair, holding your exhausted body close while he lines the cage up with your poor, swollen cunt and locks you back in.

Why are you struggling? Why do you make yourself suffer?

You know you're truly gone when you start asking yourself the same questions he does.

Giving in to him is as easy as breathing.

Your heat is coming on anyways. You’ll surrender so much more when all you can think about is getting his knot in your cunt and keeping in there.

What’s a little piece now? What’s an appetizer, a tiny bite stinging at your pride, when soon you’ll be begging and mewling for him shamelessly, desperately?

It feels so easy, so right, to just nod quietly, red-faced, and let his smile grow even wider as he descends upon you like a starving wolf upon a lamb.

And it’s relieving. Letting him do it, take control.

Geto is so good at it, fingers quick on your cunt, your clit, his clever tongue and wide lips mouthing over you with the certainty he has in every word he speaks.

Even as raw as it is, your cunt slicks up under his touch, the oversensitive buzz deepening to an electric tingle that has you shaking down to your bones.

You gasp and weep and one of his huge hands finds your hair while the other slips into your cunt. It’s been ages since you’ve been fucked but you open up so easy for him, his scent permeating the air,  

And once he’s made you cum once, wringing it out of you after “All that time you spent getting yourself worked up, wasn’t is so much easier to let me do it?”, Geto doesn’t stop there.

No. He has to be intimate, has to be affectionate. He settles you against him in a facsimile of love, while your body is still lax and pliable, while the airy pleasure is still bubbling through your veins.

When you’re like that, happy and fuzzy and limp in his arms, he purrs his smug questions in your ear:

“Mmmh, so cute, do you want another one? Mouth or hands this time?”

“There, there. Doesn’t that feel good? Your alpha makes you feel so good, don’t you? Sweet little omega.”

“You know how much I love you, don’t you? You feel it right now. Say it for me.”

With his hands caressing you there isn’t even a thought of resistance, denial. You follow along with the sweet, low voice that always makes you feel good.

“I know you love me, Geto.”

“Suguru." He corrects, "Suguru loves you, your alpha. And how do you know I love you, my darling?”

“Hhhh…” You drift off, his long fingers driving into the knots of your shoulders, working you even looser, “Because… you make me feel so good… Suguru…”

“Mmmm…” The purr he makes of satisfaction radiates through you, and it’s all just warm, fuzzy bliss to your helpless omega brain, “Don’t I always? I take such good care of you, don’t I, darling?”

“Yes,” You agree, tilting your head back for him to kiss, nip at it, “You always take care of me. My alpha, the best alpha…”

“Oh? What a good, sweet little thing you are. You want to cum again before I put it back on? Since you’ve been such a good omega.”

And you like to think that it’s just the happy hormones of your climax, just the irrepressible pheromones that hook into your dopamine receptors and tug your brain inside out for him to pick apart.

But the truth is, Geto knows you. He’s always known you, so, so well. And even if you think this is surrender, you know he can do so much worse.

It’s worse, now, with him growing bolder. Sitting you on his lap to listen to hapless followers prostrating and sniveling before Geto.

He smiles, nods, an expression of vacant amusement drifting over his face.

The picture of casual control, an easy kind of power that doesn’t need to be projected. If Geto merely gazes in a certain direction, all attention in the room will soon follow.

His entire body, his pheromones, the arm he warps around you to hold you into his lap, it all screams alpha.

And you feel it, you feel it, it’s coming on and you can’t help it. You know he must have smelled it on you, Geto knew your heat was coming, so –

Burning burning, the heat sears you from underneath your skin. It’s like your whole cunt is throbbing where it’s confined, aching and empty.

So it was all right, then, he must have been expecting –

“G-Geto,” His name comes out as a soft, warbling sound.

The arm around your waist gives a tight pinch and a click of his tongue.

A whimper. “Suguru…” Pitiful, pouty, that’s what you’ve been reduced to. You’re almost as pathetic as the people bowing before him. He respects you just as much, you’re sure.

“What is it, my dear?” He hums, but he knows, he already knows. His hand is reaching under, around your waistband, toying with the belt.

Geto knows what you want. But it pleases him, always, to make you ask.

You feel eyes on you, so many of them. Silence in the air as everyone listens. To Geto, the room may as well be empty, which is why he didn’t care if you were in heat when you brought him here.

It’s wet, now, dripping out between the very edge of the chastity cage, leaking on the inside of your thighs.

You think he can smell it. You think you know exactly the face he’s making, the terrible smirk. But more than that, you smell it, him growing hard against you, his pleasure and excitement tinging the air.

Any other moment, you’d love to deny him. Yank this out from under his nose. But his hands against you sear, they’re so wide and grasping and you want want want –

“Suguru, I’m,” you pant, open-mouthed, to feverish to even be ashamed of how you rub yourself against him, “I’m, I need you to, let, hhhh, let me, out… let me out, Suguru…”

“Mmmn?” It’s his dark eyes on you now, a weight that finally makes a difference. “Do you need help?”

There’s hunger in those eyes. Teeth in that smile. Eager for this latest, delectable bite.

And the worst part? You don’t even care.

You just want to cum.

“Please.”

[astrologylunadream]

What They Fantasize Doing With You🕹💋⛓ [SPICY] (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hey it's Lunadream♥️ This is gonna to be a reading on the things your person fantasizes doing with you😏♨️ hope you find your message💋

(This one gets spicy🔥 Darker themes included.)

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~♥️🔥

Pile 1👠

Pile 2🖤

Pile 3🗣

Pile 4🍷

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 😘🔥♥️

Pile 1👠

Sign energy: Naive, First love, Vent, Yin, Heat, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Moon, Neptune, Aries, 👈😳⬜💜

💋Your person's energy: Ahh my pile 1's person is so magnetic and intense, I sense you guys have a strong attraction to your person because like they're so gorgeous omg😍♥️ Scorpio, Sagittarius, Cancer, Pisces and Aries is prominent placements in their chart. Omg my pile 1's your person is very hot, but also soft in some ways. I'm getting some emotional energy from your person, they may have a lot of negative feelings they want to let off their chest.😥 Deep and passionate individual, they feel so much and so fast. For some of you this person may be your first love or vice versa, I feel like one of you fell in love very fast with the other and the feelings only grew from there🖤 I feel like your person is pretends to be unaware of how suggestive or naughty they act, but OMG know very well what they're doing😭😈 Also they could have muscles/toned body or have a lot of endurance (for whatever reason🙄❗) They fantasize often and have a big heart. Definitely giving off siren vibes, they could often wear black or like that color. My pile 1's can't deny this person is attractive, like they pull you in deep. They make you blush, and overheat.🥵♨️ Purple or white may be significant to your person. I'm getting they are the yin to your yang kind of thing, the darkness to your light.☯🖤

🕹What they fantasize doing with you: Fishing, Community, Praise, Mine, Compulsive, Leo, 1st house, Aries, Chiron, Vertex, 🦂😩🤫👢 Okay okay okay physical thoughts of you rn.🥵🧤♨️ They want your attention and praise omg like they imagine you telling them they did good or complimenting them ahh this is something they really want❤ Also I just saw they imagine showing you off to their circle of friends/coworkers/ect. Like showing you to them. They fantasize about calling you theirs, and taking you for themselves. But also!! They definitely have some dark thoughts of my pile 1's though, like physical desires. They often fantasize of your back, shoulders and hair, they honestly fetishize your whole body tbh.💋 They imagine touching you nonstop, and making you saying their name. They wanna be rough with you but also heal you at the same time🥺 They really imagine dominating and also getting you on your back OML.🥵🔥 Also I feel like they fantasize stepping on you or you stepping on them haha, definitely making you submit to them or getting your praise. I'm also getting that your person is hooked on these imagines of you, like they have these thoughts compulsively like they just come out.😳 WTF pile 1 your person is so naughty for you?!?? They imagine the thought of you loudly praising them while they make you theirs, holding you down and going hard on you.🥵🥵😈

📮Messages from your person: I'm holding back, I'll support for you, I want to sweep you off your feet, Do you want to? I care about you, I want to surprise you, I didn't used to feel this way, You're too hot to be sad. (Awww🥺❤) Extra cards: Class, Fine, Release, Skin, Date

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!♥️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the heels emoji~👠 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🔥

Pile 2🖤

Sign energy: Blind, Stomach, Relationship, Child, Heard, Moon, 7th house, Sagittarius, 5th house, Eros, 🛩🔧🧽☔

💋Your person's energy: Your person is giving such fun and spontaneous energy, they like to be wild🐅 They may be less aware of others emotions because they aren't very serious, but one thing that makes them very nervous is commitment. The type to rather have a quick fling because they are scared of being in a long-term relationship with someone.🙊 They can be a little immature I'm hearing, but they just prefer adventure and freedom in life.✈ They could be from abroad or like to travel, this could be someone you aren't ready to commit to because you aren't sure they are ready for it.🚫💍 They seem a little flighty, because they are indecisive. Some of you this person is a technician or fixes things, perhaps their love life needs fixing. I feel like they are a very horny person, looking for a good time not a serious commitment. They have a youthful energy about them despite their age, very curious and bright still. The type to be in a friends with benefits type of situation.🤪 They have dated around I'm hearing, they are still exploring through all the potential romantic options. They are experimenting and seeing what sticks, also they may be a very flirtatious person.🍒🔥

🕹What they fantasize doing with you: Romance, Dare, Secret admirer, Top, Insanity, 5th house, Vertex, 8th house, 6th house, Leo, ♓🩰🌪⛪ Omg they wanna be in control of you especially with intimacy👅💦 Like they are so wild they just want to crawl on top of you and have some wild fun😭😭 Your person imagines all sorts of stuff with you, like wild naughty things. Kneeling on you and doing it over and over, owning you good⚠️🥵 You make them crazy and they like it, they want it to be risky and unforgettable. Your person sees an opportunity for naughty mischief with you, and they can't say no to those things. These thoughts of you may be very secret or remain a mystery, you will find out the closer you get😗 They want to tie your feet together wtf and make you high from their acts I mean an outer body experience😳 Making you forget who you are, they want to do things that give you chills. They want to dare you to do all sorts of crazy stuff with them, risky things. Your person imagines going on wild dates with you, they really wanna be admired. My pile 2's your person imagines some unholy things with you👿 They fantasize of pleasurable experiences with you, flirting and teasing.😝 They wouldn't mind to thrill you in bed if they could.🛏💋

📮Messages from your person: I hate seeing you like this, There's distance between us, If I can't have you, I can't help myself, I would let you, You can't control yourself, I can't believe it, You're wrong (My oh my🥵🔥) Extra cards: Hug from behind, Unseen, Open, Performance, Nightmare

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!♥️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the black heart emoji~🖤 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🔥

Pile 3🗣

Sign energy: Seduction, Trip, Capricorn, Swan, Gifts, Mercury, Earth, 1st house, Eros, Aquarius, 🤯⬛🪐🦅

💋Your person's energy: Ahh such hot energy in here, your person is really attractive especially their mind😫🖤 I can literally see pile 3 tripping over when they see them, like this person is so magnetic and their body language draws you in. You are in awe of this person, the way they look and speak. Omg and their silent gaze is so haunting for you😝👀 Your person is seductive and intelligent, lol they physically turn you on. They could be a Capricorn rising or saturnian, they pack quite the package too I'm hearing😏🙊 Black is so their color, they just look so classy and gorgeous in it.🖤 For some of my pile 4's this person may be in business or take business trips often, also I'm seeing they may dress in funeral attire and travel to those events recently. They are so elegant and hot omg😭 Definitely remind me of an eagle, like they could sweep you off your feet. This person speaks so well especially in large groups/online, like they are so savvy and quick witted.💬💫 Darker hair possibly, I can't stop imagining this person in a suit LMAO😂😂 They could be very well off or give gifts often to people. Very mature vibes to your person, they could be older or act that way.💅

🕹What they fantasize doing with you: Perfectionist, The little mermaid, Bend, Boy, Society, Gemini, Aries, Chiron, Water, Moon, 🦋👑🌇🌙 Ahh okay😍 So your person imagines winning you a bit, they want to be the lead interest for you. Also they sort of want to control your emotions, and they imagine bending you to their will (metaphor or not🥵). They want to change you in a positive direction, and shift your focus on what really matters. They fantasize making you submit to them and do anything for them that's just what they imagine of you. I think your person expects a lot from you, also some you might have Gemini placements It just sort of came out. Thoughts of dominating you come to your person's mind, moving your body with their hands (like not even letting you move yourself🥵🧤) Omg they are kinda naughty ngl😰 They have some really aggresive fantasies of you like they aren't the type to act on them but like still it's there.💭 They also may think of ways to be their best self for you, like they put a lot of pressure on themselves. I feel like they have a standard set to live up to, it could be from society or what is expected of them by people around them. They want to rule your body I'm hearing🥵🥵 They see you as someone moldable to them and it is very tempting, they fantasize doing as they please with you♨️⛓

📮Messages from your person: Why so serious? I've heard others talk about you, I can't handle it, I don't want to decieve you, It's not my problem, No one loves me like you do, You're so talented, When you look at me (Haha my pile 3's your person has it good for you, they love the way you look at them😍) Extra cards: Beach, One of a kind, Fancy, Practice, Alien (Ohh they wish they could do some things on the beach with you too.🏖🥵😈🩱💦

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!♥️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the speaking emoji~🗣 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🔥

Pile 4🍷

Sign energy: Easy, Insanity, Hidden, Meaning, Ability, South node, Fire, Earth, Saturn, Sun, 🦴👫🦊🚫

💋Your person's energy: Okay so your person is very well kept and organized I'm hearing, they could be mentally well organized as well like their thoughts are all sorted out.😌💭 They could be someone from your past, maybe they inspire you in some ways. Saturn-Sun aspects in their chart. They have a side to them they keep tucked away, a wilder side so to speak.🔥 My pile 4's your person could be very sneaky or methodical not necessarily in a bad way, I just think they are very analytical. You or them could feel like the other drives you crazy, but hide it. Earth placements. Their bones are noticable, may have strong bone structure, I'm hearing they aren't very moldable and more so stuck in their ways. You can't exactly waver them, they have to make a decision on their own. Saturnian vibes💫 I am seeing for a small percent in this pile may be in a relationship with this person, I mean like I dating. Your person analyzes everything you do, tries to figure you out. They are great at puzzles I'm hearing🧩 Some of you don't know this person or are hidden from them in some way. Your person is good at a lot of things too (I mean they have many abilities🥵🛏)

🕹What they fantasize doing with you: Restaurant, Telepathy, Waist, Hug from behind, Innovation, Leo, Pisces, 11th house, Moon, Jupiter, 🎪🏚❄⛈ Ahh okay🙈 So your person has a lot of cure fantasies about you, others are much more intense😳 They want to hug you aww and also pull you close to them, like grab your waist and hold you to their chest.😍❤ So romantic my pile 4's!! They imagine showing off to you, I mean like putting on a grand show for you🥴👑 ripping their shirt off or yours, haha they just want a load of fun.🚀 Also this is crazy like your person thinks about getting their fill of your 🍑 like wow😰😰 They fantasize your lower half so much like they're addicted to it, oml and grabbing you there? They imagine doing that too😈😈 They want to be a freak for you, and imagine themselves doing anything you ask them to. They want a LOT of attention from you, also connecting on a deeper level. Your person wishes they could read your mind, so they would know exactly what pleases you🥵 Aww they want to make you feel loved and cared for too, they don't want my pile 4's to ever feel abandoned🥺❤ They definitely imagine holding you tight and enjoying every second with you in their arms. Such.sweet and hot relationship for my pile 4's!!

📮Messages from your person: I'm mad at you, Let the tables turn, Leave me out of it, I want to please you, Think happy thoughts, Give me attention, I'm addicted, Please don't hide your pain (Omg this all adds up how they feel about you my pile 4's!!😍) Extra cards: Competition, Punish, Surface, Vertex, Remedy

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!♥️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the wine emoji~🍷 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🔥

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3