#He's so squeaky toy core

[bitten-button]

I need you all to understand that this is in no way ironic, I genuinely love him very much. This is not for the Meme, this is for the He Is My Little Princess.

Ijichi Kiyotaka my beloved

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Clean

Summary: They are everywhere, at all times.

Warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, kidnapping, fingering, manhandling.

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

You hadn't recollected yourself when Joel spoke once again, Texan drawl lighter after the relief he had taken on your body. Your shivering hands attempted to paw at scraps of your clothes, using your previously discarded jean jacket to cover your naked form.

"Might as well bathe her if she's sleeping in my bed," He asserted casually, looking down at your disheveled state. "had a long day, didn't you, puppy?"

You stared at him wide eyed, not knowing what to possibly say. The nickname rolled out of his tongue with satisfaction, towering over your kneeling form, as if you actually were a dog. His shoulder flexed under his worn navy sweater, and he shifted to the rest of the men, tucking their still-hard erections away. You sensed the power Joel held over them, taming their savage desire with a simple command.

"Call dibs on that." Dieter proclaimed, a chuckle and a growl mixing in his tone as the rest cackled slightly. Joel tutted, cutting through the sounds charismatic-ally.

"Want her squeaky clean, Catfish it's on you."

Your Savior slammed the toy helicopter on the kitchen table, standing up with a torn, dutiful look on his face. The rest begun rumbling, and Joel simply looked up at them through his eyebrows, silencing them.

Catfish's dark and dirty boots stumped on the floorboards, short lived protests in their wake. His eyes glared at Joel from beneath the visor of his cap, hands twitching at his sides, but softened when he came down to his knees before you.

His hands reached for the over sized jean jacket that you had a white-knuckled grip on, and he gave it a wavering tug. Your eyes pleaded at him, and he nodded, still reaching for the jacket; his eyes reassured you, but you had seen the bulge protruding at his zipper, he was no better than the rest of them.

Burning holes into your head was Joel's stare, so you let go. It surprised you as Catfish straightened up the piece and showed you the arm hole. Slowly, you extended your limb and climbed into the jacket.

"Can you walk?" He whispered, and you tensed your muscles, skimming the possible pain. Your core felt like fire, but your legs felt enough as you pushed yourself onto the soles of your feet. You breathed out, eyes on him as he lifted you around your waist, hands warm through the denim.

As you came onto your feet, you realized the other men had possibly lost interest, fidgeting around with random objects you couldn't place through blurry eyes. Some sat down on the tattered couch, other's perched upon the counter.

A reassuring step after the other, with Catfish's arm supporting your back and waist, palm not fully pressing against you, you walked past the fireplace, and the couch and almost reached the hallway before your muscles turned taut, stretching and pulling at the fiber of your flesh. His careful grip wasn't enough to hold you as your knees slammed against the floor, crevices and lines sinking into your flesh and eliciting a sharp hiss.

"Need help?" One of them asked, and you hand shot to pull the only item of clothing down your bare ass. Preserving some dignity.

His hands were more stubborn, pulling you hastily from the floor to your feet and into the shadowy hallway. You felt cold marble digging against your back as he propped you against the bathroom counter, turning on the yellowed light.

The bathroom was well kept, but it didn't compare in the slightest to your back at home. You scanned for similarities, washbowl, mirror, toilet and tub. Although the porcelain looked stained, and the mirror was barely enough to see you face and some of your neck, it was spacey enough for the two of you to stand with some distance.

He crouched by your legs, hands reaching into the cabinets before pulling out some essentials; soap, a towel and bottle of shampoo which's label had rubbed off. After placing them on the counter, he silently kneeled over the bath tub, turning the rusty faucet on.

You peeked at him through wild strands of hair, debating onto what to do next. Your whole body was ravaged in shock, and you barely processed the situation. The men were speaking on the other room, you heard it as low whispers, along with the water splashed onto the porcelain, intercepted by Catfish's thick fingers.

His dark brown t-shirt expanded over his large back, material so thin you could trace the outline of each bulging muscle; as he leaned over the edge of the filling tub, a peak of flesh showed from the space between the shirt and his worn out boxers. He smelled musky, hidden under a layer of what you could tell was cheaper version of your father's perfume.

The sole idea brought tears into your eyes, stinging their way down your cheeks as you sniffled lightly. He pushed his shoulders back, tensing at the sound, but didn't say anything.

They were dead, that you were almost sure about, bodies were scattered everywhere and guns were going off madly as you ran away. You didn't even get to say goodbye, slipping out of your comfy bed that very own morning to go get coffee down the street before the alarms went off. You ran, because you knew the alarm meant you had to.

The bathtub creaked as Catfish used it to leverage himself up. He dried himself on the itchy hand towel, and turned to face you, but his eyes didn't meet yours.

"Water's cold, sorry for that." He muttered, sincerely. He stepped aside, showing you the half filled bathtub. Your thighs pressed together, sticky mess pooling and drying flaky upon your damp skin; your hands clutched onto the jean jacket as you pressed it as closed as possibly.

Catfish scanned the room, as if checking everything was in place before he moved to the door. "Gonna see if I can give you something to change onto."

Not because of finding something, but if he was allowed to. That went unsaid, and you kept silent as the door creaked shut. For some seconds, you froze, testing the strength of your strained legs or expecting something else to happen. But the more you looked at the tub, you knew you had to get this done with.

What could happen if you took too much time?

You slipped your jacket off, biding goodbye to the last trace of your scent as the cold autumn air bit at your exposed skin. The soap felt greasy and thick against your hand, and your mind dumbly wondered if it could cause any bad reaction against your skin, but the idea of being dirty disgusted you more.

You bit a hiss as you stepped onto the cold water, sinking in quickly to avoid further discomfort. The icy water aching at any pain in your body, but it took away any dirt and sweat as you lathered the soap against your body. You didn't dare to look between your thighs as you rubbed at them underneath the water.

And then you dropped the soap, letting it sink to the bottom as your fingers ghosted over your core. You still felt him, deep inside you, and you hesitated to rub there, to try and clean any trace.

Your mind clawed towards the inevitable future as your shoulders slumped against the cool porcelain, as you scratched the shampoo into the knotted hair, careful on the spots that had been tugged. Some stray hairs tied around your fingers as you attempted to comb it. Once you believed you had finished, you let your eyes closed.

Would they be mad if you stayed here?

For a brief second you allowed yourself to relax, finding comfort in momentary stillness. The door creaked open, making you jump and slosh the water around. It had turned grayish, and you felt your hands shot to cover your bare chest.

Big, puppy dog eyes peeked through the door. He had taken of his cap, and his dark brown hair curled almost in shape. He held a dark bunch of fabric in his hand, and he stretched his upper body to settle it in the toilet lid.

"I'll be waiting outside, no hurry." He mumbled, softly, eyes reassuring and voice barely above a whisper. "Joel's already in bed, told me to bring you once you are done."

You nodded. You heard more talking outside the door, but his words had assured you at least some brief respite of the situation. It had brought everything crashing back, your vulnerability, and you took a deep breathe as you begun emptying the tub.

As the water swirled, you realized you didn't felt clean enough. With shaking fingers you popped the stopper back in and turned the faucet back on.

It pooled around your feet, cold no longer bothering you as you pulled your knees onto your chest, pressing your under eyes against the scratched skin.

Some seconds more, some more seconds of ignoring what was happening to you, you wondered if this was going to become an usual occurrence before the door hinges cried in protest.

You sighed, knowing you had possibly exceded your time in peace as you begun to rise.

"F-fuck you!" Was bellowed, and your head snapped to the door.

A sharp cackle followed that, and the scene unfolded.

Catfish's face was red as it bulged beneath Marcus' imposing bicep, knees folding under the pressure. Whiskey limited your view, body connected the door frame and the knob as he stepped in, too busy laughing at his fellow Raider to look at you. Beside him, Javier leaned against said frame, Cheshire cat grin pulling under his mustache as his eyes narrowed at you.

He pushed the laughing Whiskey into the bathroom, not before shooting Marcus' a smile over his shoulder as Catfish struggled against his confines. A hand was clamped over his mouth, keeping his gaze forcefully fixed upon you.

They neared the tub, eyeing the streaming faucet with intrigue. As you stared at them, slotting your body as far as possible into the tub, you realized they had changed into night clothes.

It gave you a small reminder of your guy friends back into the community, pijama pants and old t-shirts, though their eyes told a different story. Dark and blown out.

You felt Whiskey's breath against your back, making you jolt forward, coming face to face with Javier. Your hands came to grasp at the sides of the tub, knuckles turning white.

"Easy there," Javier commanded, voice stern. His hand dipped into the puddle forming by hour feet, fingers swirling on the water. "It's cold baby, want me to warm it up for you?"

Your head shook on itself, rapidly, frantically. He shifted, jaw ticking to Whiskey behind you. His arms slithered slowly around your collarbones, pulling your crouched back straight against the flannel of his pijama shirt. Your arms stuck to your sides at the armpits, incapacitating you as the heel of your feet kicked splashed water around.

"Can't fuck you without Joel's approval," Javier grunted, wet fingers tracing up your naked thigh as his eyes ransacked your form. Whiskey's grip pulled taught at your breasts, nipples erect and pruned from the freezing water, and you couldn't close your legs without slipping further into the bath and straining your neck. "Should have done it when I found you, you were already in all fours, recall?"

You slammed your head back in panic, Whiskey barely dodging it as he nosed along your neck; he growled at you. You clenched your thighs as best as you could, but Javier was stronger. Elbow pressed against one knee and his hand splayed against the other, forcing you an arm width open for him.

His other hand, the one that was previously tracing up your thigh, lowered dangerously, tracing two fingers through the seam of your sex.

You whined, Whiskey’s breathe fanning over your cheek as a single tear slid through it. It all felt tense, their hands on you, the faint noises of rustling behind you as Catfish attempted to escape Marcus’ grip, and their hot gazes upon you.

Two fingers pulled your lips apart, exposing you if possibly further to the cold air of the bathroom. Javier bit his lower lip, sighing as warmth spread up his neck.

Not even then, as you bathed yourself, you had peace.

His digits prodded at your hole, swollen and pink from Joel’s cock, yet they slipped in with some protest. A louder yelp escaped your lips, Javier giving Whiskey a warning through his knitted eyebrows. The man pressed a big, calloused hand to your lips, and you understood their boss possibly hadn’t given them permission for this.

Experimentally, Javier pushed his fingers to the last knuckle, pads pushing against your walls as they felt around. Searching, they were, along his eyes; searching for something in your expression.

“How is she?” Whiskey whispered, voice laced with amusement.

“Still fucking tight.” Javier growled ferociously, retrieving his fingers and working them back in slowly at first.

A small, hidden moan bounced against Whiskey’s palm, and your eyelids shut close. There was something about the way he was curling his fingers, against something just below your mound, that sent your legs shivering. Tears slipped into his hand, shame, breathing hard by his powerful grip upon your chest.

They shared a mischievous smile, almost juvenile in a way.

“Don’t cry, puppy.” He cooed, but the mockery made you cry harder. “Just gonna make this pussy cum.”

He leaned forward and spat, straining his shoulders from the position. His thumb scooped up the spit and pressed at the apex of your core, beginning to rub careful circles as his hand begun thrusting harder into you, curling quicker.

You felt the knot tighten at your stomach, toes curling and you tried, one last time, to get away. Useless.

“Make it quick.” Marcus hissed, a thin layer of sweat shining over his forehead. Catfish hadn’t stop struggling, vein popping at his forehead.

He didn’t answer, but his ministrations became more forceful, sending your eyes rolling back as you felt wetness spread, coat his fingers.

A sloppy kiss on your collarbone sent you spiraling, biting painfully on your lip as you exposed more of your neck to the man behind you. The knot snapped, walls clenching around Javier’s fingers as they fucked you through your high. Pride resounded in his chest.

The arm that was spreading you dislocated from your knees, curling around your quavering thigh as you squirmed away, ministrations becoming too much.

It hurt, though pleasure laced on the action you felt raw, vulnerable, small. You felt your breathe heaving, growing agitated with the passing seconds. Fear clouded your features, mind chanting please make it stop over and over.

As if hearing your thoughts, Javier slowly pulled out his fingers, cleaning them in the sloshing water and then his pijama pants. He relished in the way your eyes clouded with tears and how helpless you looked, the grin on his face told you so.

You felt the arms around you loosen, and sobs wrecked through your body as the hand came off. From the corner of your eyes, Marcus let Catfish go, but the man just ticked his jaw at him, unable to say more.

A grip on your chin stopped you from casting your eyes downwards, and Javier studied how red your lips looked, puffy from crying.

“Give me a kiss.” He ordered, though his voice was sultry. You swallowed hard, shame tinting your cheeks as you blinked at him.

Cocking his head, he grinned even wider. “Have you never…?”

The threat lingered in the air, Whiskey’s stubble rubbing against your neck.

The hand on your chin rose to cup your cheek, keeping you still as he rolled on the balls of his feet, mouth parted before smashing his lips onto yours.

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth, taking a claim. Teeth clashing against teeth, Javier coating your mouth with his own saliva, and how the bathtub dug into your back as you tried to escape away, just falling deeper into Whiskey’s spread arms.

He pulled away, leaving a string attached as he revisited for a quick peck, enamored with the taste of your lips. His hand smoothed over your cheek, wiping tears carelessly.

He stood up, and Whiskey followed him, knees cracking. You balled up, face hidden in your knees as muscles tensed and ached.

You heard their chuckles as they left, only one pair of eyes on you now. Catfish groaned into his hand, fist slamming against the counter, sending you flinching.

He softened as he turned on his heel, spreading the towel for you. He could tell you were scared, your eyes looking up at him through your wet lashes, but he just turned his head to the side.

You stood up, droplets cascading from your body as he draped the thick, coarse material over your form. You stepped out of the tub, breathe hitching as you waited for his next move.

He shook the hairbrush in your face for you to take it, and rested the t-shirt and a new toothbrush on the counter as he turned around, head planted to the door.

You stole glances of his broad form as you brushed your hair as best you could, and as you slipped into the y-shirt; it was old and stretched out, yet smelled good. You could tell it was Catfish’s, by the perfume.

You spat out the remaining toothpaste and propped the toothbrush on the empty holder, hand daring to tap at his back.

He gave an off the shoulder glance before fully turning around, quickly scanning your form. How silent you were irked him.

“Gonna take you to Joel’s room.” He grunted, jaw tensing. Though his eyes told a different story; sad and puppy like, warm brown.

You nodded, in defeat. He stopped in his tracks, hand resting at the door knob.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

You felt it slip out of your tongue almost uncharacteristically, just your first name. What good could your surname do at this point?

“Pretty.”

He opened the door, hand once again finding your hip. The lights outside the corridor were off, and the house was silent.

You passed through doors and doors, realizing the state of the house as you stepped in front of the last one. It wasn't like your house, but it was big, not dirty but time had taken its toll. You wondered if they had found it like this, dilapidated wall paper and humidity splattered on the ceilings, or if they had been there for long enough.

Catching you gawking, Catfish murmured over his shoulder. "If you are looking for a way out, I'll tell ya now, they won't allow it."

You swallowed, the idea hadn't even crossed your mind. In all honesty, most of the thoughts you were having were blank.

Catfish knocked on the door, and you heard a faint “come in” grunted.

Inside the room, Joel lay in a king size bed, silk navy sheets carefully done beneath him. You recognized them from the shop back in your community. His thighs were strapped in flannel, and his muscles bulged through a thin tank top. The dim light of a bedside light illuminated his marred skin, shining lightly. At the other end of the room was a door and a window. Through the curtains you saw the deep, treacherous forest, a pool of black and green.

He looked up from the book he had dwarfed in his hands, and his brows furrowed.

“Didn’t tell you to dress her.” He commented, voice sharp.

Catfish sighed. “It’s just a t-shirt.”

Joel let the book on his nightstand, arms crossing as he glared at the defiance. “You can take it, she won’t be needing it.”

Your adverted gaze rose to look at Catfish, but his fingers still wrapped around the hem of the shirt. He peeled it off, gently, before looking once more at Joel.

“That’s it, thank you, Frankie.”

Your mind buzzed, lips parting as Catfish turned on his heel and closed the door behind him.

“Come here.” You heard, forcing you to face once more the man in the bed.

Your legs wouldn’t budge. His eyebrow shifted, threateningly. You felt your lower lip jut out, swallowing a sob.

His muscles tensed, and you forced yourself to take a step closer in fear he was going to stand up. Another, and another, your naked knees grazed the bed.

He nudged to the space of the bed beside him.

Tag list:

@tateypots

perhaps you wanna read @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut

[yuzanwrath]

I am still alive! And so is Wei Wuxian (Well.....) from my mdzs au story; "Crimson Core" (Which still mostly exists within my head but...I did start writing a bit for it..well it's something, also the name of it might change idk we'll see) Anyway, below the read-more is a draft from my au story, Not much context sorry! Just know that Wei Wuxian is my personal squeaky toy and I will squish him until he pops (affectionately). So yeah Angst and the horrors™️ (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Possible Warning!!: Body horror and gore etc!!

Crimson Core draft; wwx pov

He can still feel every individual peck as if it was still happening, every hit pierced a little deeper, hurt a little bit more. Made him cry out louder and louder. Until his voice too was taken from him. The sound of sharp beaks, adorned with tiny teeth, scraping (at) the bones inside of his neck. Creating a sensation of pain he doesn’t think any language has words for to describe. Peck! Squelch… Another hit to his eye, his right one this time, distracts him from the now gaping hole in his neck. He can almost still make out the shape of the birds, their round beady eyes staring into his bleeding ones. It’s as if they are laughing at him each time before taking another bite. Deeper and deeper, They take more, And he sees less. But he feels so, so much.

He wishes for nothing more than to close his eyes but his (eye)lids are long gone too.

He wants to lash out at everything around him, to leave him alone, but the corpses have already taken his arms.

He wills his legs to move, to get him out of there! But they’ve rotted too, turned into mush, the bones changed into nothing more but black liquid, licked up greedily by whatever else that calls the mountain its home.

When another presence joins the feast to pick at his eyes and lick dry his bones, Wei Ying has a moment of clarity.

A feeling rushes through him, so strongly and intense that it takes a moment for him to recognize it.

The will to live.

Despite everything, he doesn’t want life, his life, to end.

At this realization, memories suddenly rush through him.

'His parents, taken from him.. The Jiang Clan, destroyed.

His eyes and limbs, Gone. (even those they took!) His future, ruined.'

He lost almost everything.

He has nothing left,

(Well) …Almost nothing.

All he has left now, is...

Rage

Extra: The inhuman roar(scream) that echoed throughout the entirety of the Burial mounds was so loud that, when it was over, nothing else dared to make a sound... * English is not my first language I am totally not nervous about posting this

[cetaceans-pls]

Are you ever going to post the full version of this teehee https://www.tumblr.com/cetaceans-pls/685147739958509568/preview-for-the-jason-todd-zine-red-lights-dark

hey anon! i have so much work strewn between google docs and ao3 and here and i lost track :') here's a lil sunday treat, fic below the cut!

A Habit of Domination BruJay, R, petplay Good boys go woof.

Sometimes, after a particularly athletic night of sex, Bruce and Jason will go to sleep on opposite ends of Bruce’s absurdly huge bed and sleep facedown and unmoving for a solid 10 hours. The blankets will all be on the floor, bare butts facing the ceiling, and if they’re feeling romantic in their sleep they’ll wake up at acute angles to each other, bare toes barely touching.

Sometimes, after a particularly athletic night of sex, Jason just gets more and more and more wound up, and the absolute last thing he wants to do is fade into quiet sleep.

Nights like these Bruce doesn’t have to do much more than just sit back and take it, sex-drunk and worn down enough that the quiet core of him, that desire to serve that’s kept Batman running for decades, is close enough to the surface that Jason just looks at him and it has Bruce unwinding with a quiet yes on a quieter exhale.

“Must be the full moon,” Jason says as he roughly tugs Bruce to lie flat on his back before he climbs astride his hips. “Must be some janky bit of astrology, B, because you fucked me hard and good,” a quick kiss for a good job well done, “but I’m cranked up worse than before.”

Bruce just snorts, hands coming up to hold on tight to Jason’s waist. “Can’t blame planetary alignment for being a brat, Jason.” He rolls his hips, but the night’s gone soft and so has he. “What do you need?”

Jason, meanwhile, isn’t suffering a similar fate. He rubs his hard cock against Bruce’s chest, leisurely marking his territory. “Dunno, trying to figure it out.” He leans down and bites into the curve of Bruce’s shoulder. With the obscene packed muscle there, it’s more an imposition on his teeth than it is on Bruce, which is offensive. “Could get you to fuck me with a toy, but you look wiped out.”

  

He gets a pinch at the waist for his taunt, Bruce looking placid but for that no-good smirk right at the edge of his lips. “Talking mighty confident for someone who comes on a hair-trigger, Jay,” Bruce says mildly. “Do you really want to get up on your High Horse?”

The only way to stop Bruce from prefixing their sex toys with Bat-something has been to relent and let him instead name them with  godawful puns nobody under the age of 40 would find funny. It’s maybe a little fucked up that Jason finds that endearing, but the High Horse is the world’s finest(!) Sybian redesigned on a rig that makes it rock and roll like a fucking bucking bronco, and a terrible name is a small price to pay for orgasms so intense the oversensitivity starts feeling like death (Jason would know).

Jason shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave the room, don’t want to leave this bed, really. Even if I get you to go fetch the stupid thing, you still haven’t fixed that squeaky wheel, and I’m gonna go fully feral if I go down for breakfast tomorrow and Alfred’s got a can of WD-40 on the kitchen counter.” He slides lower down Bruce’s body, and looks over his shoulder at Bruce’s cock. “You sure you can’t get it up? C’mon, I’ll even go reverse cowgirl. I’ll moan extra loud, go ah ah ah Bruce you’re so big!” He grins, reaching up to press down on the bite mark on Bruce’s shoulder. “A special extra big ego boost as a reward.”

Bruce sits up, and they both wince at the ungodly crack his back makes. “Couldn’t get it up even with that as incentive,” he says, rubbing his scruff against Jason’s neck. “Couldn’t get it up even to please you. I think I’m broken for the night.”

Jason’s never one to be stopped by something as minor as physical limitations. Got an autopsy scar up-down his chest, Jason barely even let death slow him down. “I’m pretty good with my hands,” Jason tells him, dragging his nails up-down Bruce’s chest. “Pretty good at making things work even when they’re not supposed to.” He lets his hands slip up and up and up, till they rest warm and light around Bruce’s neck. “You wanna see how far I can take you?”

“I already know,” Bruce says, almost polite but for the way the grip he has on Jason’s hips go tighter. “You’re being a handful tonight, Jaybird.” 

Oh, Jason’s going to be getting bruises tonight. It warms him right up, riles him further, and he ruts against Bruce’s hip. “Wish I could say the same ‘bout you,” he says pointedly, reaching back and rubbing the back of his knuckles against Bruce’s soft cock. “Wish you were better at taking orders.”

That seems to land exactly the way Jason had aimed, has Bruce twitching and shuddering under him even if his face remains calmly impassive. “Is it going to be that kind of night, Jason?” Bruce asks him very, very quietly, and Jason hadn’t planned on it at the start but right now he really can’t think of anything he’d like more.

“Looks like it’s gonna be,” Jason says, excitement helping him rise to his feet as he jumps clear off the bed, landing with a heavy thump. “Off the bed now, B,” he says as he heads towards a patch of wall that looks like any other patch of wall, except this one rolls up at his light touch. “You know pets aren’t allowed on furniture.”

If Bruce isn’t feeling it, Jason knows he’ll turn around and the man will mutinously still be on the bed.

He’s barely got the collar out before he hears the creaking and thudding of a heavy man being careful to make sound as he climbs off the bed and sits back on his knees. Jason feels a shiver crawl up his spine, makes him straighten up and roll back his shoulders, because yeah, it’s going to be one of the best kinds of nights. 

Nothing too fancy, he thinks. For all that Jason enjoys push-push-pushing Bruce till his breaking point and, on extra special occasions, well beyond that, Bruce has been run down worse than usual with an attempted Arkham breakout. 

No one can accuse him of being a bad owner. 

“Here boy,” he says, clicking his fingers and pointing at his feet. Bruce comes by, limited in his grace by cracking knees and an old back, and comes to a halt right by Jason with his usual mild, impassive face.

That look’s not going to be on there for long. Jason flicks his finger up to the ceiling, and Bruce obediently sits up and looks up, head tilted back, the exact perfect right angle for a collaring. He has a well-trained boy, he does. Jason smugly puts the collar on, just  a thing of black leather that’s softer than butter, free of embellishments. Need little more than a buckle to make Bruce look his best, need less even than that for Jason to know who's a good boy, or

who's a bad one.

He checks that the collar is on just right (a little too tight), just the wrong side of being perfectly comfortable, because Bruce's tastes are, like all the rest of him, aggravating but also precision-designed to maximally appeal to Jason. It says a little too much ‘about the both of them, probably, but what could you want out of a partnership beyond someone who likes it too tight and someone who likes to make it so?

“Down, boy.”

Smooth as anything Bruce comes back to all fours at his feet, and Jason lets his hand rest in hair that’s starting to go gray, takes a moment to feel exactly as on top of the world as the man who domesticated the Bat deserves to feel. “You were bad, weren’t you? Asked you for one little thing, and you couldn’t even give me that.”

Bruce nods gravely, hangdog look dragging down the corners of his lips. Jason presses his palm to Bruce’s cheek to reward the admission, and the heavy push into his hand is headier than a lifetime full of blood rushing to the head.

They’ve tried slave-master stuff, they’ve alphabetically worked their way down most common kinks, and sortof-pet play has stuck harder than most because it’s a pleasant novelty for Bruce to do what’s asked of him and get rewarded for it, and Jason gets off hard on the control and gets off harder on being the only one who can meet the needs of this big bat brute.

 

Yeah, they make a hell of a pair. Jason wants him so badly it’s giving him the beginnings of a migraine.

“You just need more training,” Jason says, brushing hair behind an ear, not forcing eye contact because he knows how funny Bruce can be about that when he’s Like This. “My bad, I let the leash run too long, and now you don’t know how to be good any more, isn’t that right?”

Another nod, and Bruce leans more heavily against Jason, face to thigh, and he’s probably halfway gone just from this. God, Jason can barely contain himself, feels frizzy with electricity and power, and he cannot help but drag his nails down the back of Bruce’s neck, see the slightest red welts trail after them. “Tail kinda night?” he asks, because he’s a conscientious owner, and also because there are fewer things more singularly satisfying than watching stone-faced Bruce trying to adjust to a plus with a wagging rubber tail to it, face caught between embarrassment and a strange sort of satisfaction.

He gets a shake of his head for his trouble, which is unfortunate but also, like. 

Isn’t it the right of pets to be a little bit spoiled? 

“Fine. But you still need to get trained, so’s you can be good for me. C’mon, big guy. Present.”

The early days of all of this had been A Mess, with fights erupting and rocketing out of control at a glance gone wrong or a word better left quiet, both of them extremely keen not to let on just how into this they really, really are. 

Now, though?

Bruce takes a moment to suck a hickey into Jason's thigh before he sits back on his heels, hands propping himself up so his back’s in a curve that hurts, and his hips are tilted up and out. God, if he’d been hard, Jason might have salivated. As is, it’s a near thing.

“Good boy,” Jason says, easy with the positive reinforcement. “See, now, you’re being good all over, but you still won’t get hard for me.” He steps between Bruce’s spread thighs, and nudges at his soft cock with the top of his foot. “That’s no good to me now, is it?”

Bruce shakes his head, and Jason takes a second to mourn how he’s yet to get Bruce to agree to wearing ears. Jason sure would appreciate something shaggy to bury his hands in or see fwip side-to-side whenever they’re in this type of mood.

“Good, at least you know that. Now, how’re we gonna get you going?” There are a few possible answers, depending on what Bruce is feeling like and what Jason is feeling up to. It’s not an elaborate kind of night, long as it’s been, and there’s something to be said for a sure thing, so Jason rubs his thumb across Bruce’s cheek, putting in the exact right amount of pressure to have Bruce’s eyes slowly close.

“There’s a good boy,” Jason says with the confidence of a man who knows he can do almost anything right now and damn well get away with it. He keeps the gentle teasing up for a while, because even in the absence of ears and a tail Bruce fully looks like a massive, hulking dog come to be sweet, and it’s an addictive sight. “Let’s start with a treat, baby, so you know what’s waiting for you if you behave.”

No extra warning needed, he presses the head of his dick against Bruce’s lips, deigns to wait a second to let Bruce have a careful, thoughtful taste, before he’s pushing home with a hearty groan. “Christ, the mouth on you,” Jason says, a little out of breath, reaching down to wrap a hand around Bruce’s throat. He reckons he can almost feel himself, and he definitely can feel the way Bruce is struggling to breathe and struggling to swallow. “Take it now, don’t you want to be good?”

He gets a half-nod, Bruce’s eyes closed, nose pressed flush to Jason’s skin, shuddering like he’s about to burst apart. Jason enjoys the wet, tight heat, pulls back an inch and gives back a mile, biting his lip as Bruce chokes and shudders.

He doubles down, and on the next pull-out push-in he goes as far as he can manage before he squeezes the sides of Bruce’s neck, the exact right way to stop blood from going to the brain. “Hold it,” Jason says sternly, even though he knows he’ll get whatever he wants whatever tone he uses. Bruce doesn’t reply, just works his throat harder, and doesn’t struggle as the seconds crawl by and his breath is gone.

It’s well over a minute when Jason pulls back of his own volition, and Bruce’s deep heaving breath is accompanied by a sharp slap to his face. “How many times do I have to tell you, you tap out when you need to,” Jason says, slapping Bruce again, before holding his hair back so the man can gasp in peace. “Worse ‘n worse ‘n worse, you’re all over the place tonight.”

Bruce, ah, can’t  really register anything except for the disappointed tone of voice. This deep under, it’s hard to realise how close he’d come to passing out, or the edge of concern in Jason’s voice.

Nothing really matters except for Jason, though, so Bruce bends down down down and contritely presses his cheek to Jason’s ankle. This, at least, he’s learned. Submit hard enough, mean it whole enough, and his faults stop being his. All he needs to do is focus on Jason, after all.

(What is Jason if not a miracle, that he came back from the dead with a vengeance? And what’s a miracle for, if not for believing in?)

Jason looks down, and struggles to stay mad at the Bat lying prostrate by his feet. Careful not to dislodge Bruce who’s Gone, and is Gone because he knows Jason’ll pull him back, Jason kneels down on one knee. “C’mon, act this sweet and I’m not gonna punish you for anything,” he says, rubbing down Bruce’s back, nails catching on scabs from the most recent time Croc got his teeth in him. “Just gonna get more and more spoiled, aren’t you?”

 

Long, slow strokes down Bruce’s back, right down to the tailbone, and big guy’s shuddering like a spin cycle falling apart. Delicious, delicious, and if spoiling Bruce rotten is all part of a grand plan to be irreplaceable (to be even more irreplaceable), well.

In the bedroom’s the best place to air out all desires and grievances; Bruce knows what he signed up for, accepting Jason’s vicious single-minded pursuit way back at the start.

Speaking of desires….. Jason digs his hand into the meat of Bruce’s ass, then reaches down and around to grab hold of Bruce’s soft cock. “You really are tapped out, huh, B?” Jason says pityingly, giving a rough squeeze that’s more unpleasant than not. “Really got nothing left to give.”

He half wants to see if he can’t pull out a toy or twelve and force him into hardness, but Jason discards the thought almost as soon as he has it. No, no, for all of Jason’s Big Talk about discipline, he’s still a lost cause when it comes to his big brute. Treats enough to rot your teeth out, thy name is Todd.

Bruce still hasn’t moved, and Jason would be concerned if he was a lesser man. Instead, he reaches back to Bruce’s hair and tugs a little harshly. “Up, up, on the bed. Have a blowout and call it a night, even when you’re bad I’ll still treat you good.”

The slow drag of seconds for the words to settle in Bruce’s head is an ego boost, the panting that accompanies it even more so. Jason stays down, even as Bruce takes long, sweet moments to figure out how to get to his feet and totter hazily towards the bed, scarred back on display, once again tempting Jason to get a big red bat tattooed on from scapula to scapula.

Narcissistic? Sure, but look, see, there’s just one thing about that.

Jason deserves it. Jason’s fucking earned it.

How could you argue to the contrary? Bruce is sprawled out on the bed, looking like a relaxed man dead asleep, but his face is half pressed into the sheets, half turned towards Jason, and the look in his eye is on fucking fire.

“Shoulders down, get on your knees, big guy,” Jason says with fake calm, stalking towards the bed like Red Hood on the prowl, because yeah, this’ll work just fine. He has to squeeze the base of his cock when Bruce obeys without question, even if the temptation’s there to just cum all over that beautiful, beautiful back.

He deserves a treat too, though. Jason climbs onto the bed, reaching over for their expensive lube, and pulls it over to him. “Right, baby,” he says as he gets his fingers wet, gets Bruce’s hole wet. “Gonna have to punish you for being bad, and the punishment is me fucking an orgasm out of you while you’re soft.” Soft all over, takes a finger and then another in like he’s made for it, like he’s made for Jason, rrr. “And when you cum and you’re so oversensitive you think I’m gonna kill you, you’re gonna say thank you. Do you understand me?”

Jason doesn’t get much of a response, just a mess of half-words groaned into the mattress. That’s not good, that’s not what a well-trained mutt should be doing, and Jason would be remiss if he left it as is. He shuffles closer to B, sits up on his knees so he can press his cock to the slick mess of Bruce’s hole, catch on the rim and push in with that heated burn of not-enough-preparation.

God, if he hadn’t been so well worked over in the night, Jason would have lost it then and there, but instead he keeps pushing in, inch by unceasing inch, as Bruce makes unintelligible sounds and tries to buck his hips up. 

It’s a lifetime before Jason’s fully seated, pressed in as deep as he can go, and the heat has him dizzy, sweat beading all along his brow. He takes a breath, then another, and leans forward so his bulk covers Bruce’s back. It somehow gains him another impossible half inch closer, and he’s in the exact right position to set his teeth to Bruce’s shoulder and bite him to blood.

(Might be more than one dog in this bed, fancy that). 

“I said,” Jason growls, pulling out slowly and pushing back in with a sharp snap of his hips, “do you understand?”

Bruce nods fervently underneath him, urgent and desperate as he scrabbles to grab hold of where Jason’s arms are caging him in. “Yes, yes, Jason, yes, thank you, Jason, please,” he says in a voice fucked hoarse, and

Fuck, Bruce has made a liar out of Jason.

There’s no way they’ll be done in one round.

-

Jason comes to slowly, dazed and feeling dehydrated. No surprise, given the hell of a night and they’ve had, but he’s pretty sure he’d fallen asleep while still fully seated inside Bruce and neither of them had gotten up to any kind of aftercare.

Bad practice, bad owner, bad all around, Jason thinks to himself, sitting upright all in a hurry, expecting an empty bed, Bruce tucked in the Cave pretending he hadn’t been brought the lowest he’d ever gone.

Instead Bruce is still next to him, with them both lying in that weird only-feet-touching position they gravitate to when it’s too warm but they’re too loving. Jason waggles his toes, and Bruce waggles his back.

The relief’s like a Heimlich maneuver gone right, probably. Jason lets out a shuddery breath and reaches across the divide to lightly brush his fingers against Bruce’s shoulder. “You doing all right there, old man?”

“Hmm,” Bruce murmurs absently, still looking at Jason as he fiddles with the collar that still is around his neck.

Bad, bad owner. Jason curses, and reaches over for it. “Sorry, should’ve gotten it off before we fell asleep. Are you hurt?”

He gets batted away for his troubles. “I think,” Bruce says, unprompted and absently as he continued fiddling with the buckle, “I might want to try with some ears.”

Jason finds himself swallowing around a mouth gone dry, his cock making a spirited attempt to come back to life. “What? You know you don’t have to-”

Bruce ignores him again, and Jason would be annoyed, he really should be, but the absolute madman just keeps flicking his thumbnail against the metal buckle, a little Gone but mostly returned. “I think a tag would be good,” Bruce says, calm like he’s discussing the weather. “A little red tag, perhaps. Bat-shaped, of course. With the name and number of who to contact, should I get lost. How does that sound, Jason?”

And there’s that crack, that quirk of the lips that indicates that Bruce fully knows the hell he’s unleashing on Jason, that’s got him shuddering like a spin cycle spinning apart, holy fucking shit.

“Give me a taste and I'll take a whole thigh, Bruce,” Jason warns him, scooting closer while he imagines a tag that matches with a brand on the small of a beautiful back, and it has him fully wholly feral. 

Bruce just smiles a little quiet smile, hand still messing with his collar, eyes fully on Jason.

“Then take it.”

[tokyopewpew]

Solas and the Nature of Spirits

aka how this idiot might be able to think the idiot way he does

Sorry not trying to woobify Solas but it’s gonna sound like that to many I’m sure. 

He’s just such an interesting squeaky toy to chew on! So much is recontextualized after Veilguard! IDK i could be totally wrong but its been interesting to see people totally villainize him or be so unsympathetic. So warning: this is going to be long and kind of a follow up on my long tags post about Solas and Cole. Let’s go!

What I want to establish isn’t that Solas is faultless or not intended to be seen as antagonistic. I don’t think he is a villain, he’s a tragic hero at best or ya know. What he’s always said he is: a trickster. I don’t want to completely absolve him of all the terrible shit he’s done, but I think his explicitly poetically tragic character foundation always made it easy to swallow that those are his choices. Of course he did that, it’s the most narratively tragic option. So when I see criticisms of him being a villain or saying he should have done something different, simply said no is like ok… Yes in real life. But we’re in the fiction world where that is not his Character Type, that is not his Archetype. Which leads me into what I was yapping about on my previous post.

The nature of Spirits: I’ve seen talk of Solas’ abuse, his trauma, and I’ve seen an interesting take that by being thousands of years old he should have worked through all that shit already and not be such a petty bitch. Which idk, some of us are petty bitches by nature, trauma or otherwise. But anyways: I want to talk about the trauma of person-hood and Cole’s quest in Inquisition.

So Cole’s quest being reflected on in VG post reveal that the Evanuris were Spirits. Juicy. Delicious. But something I think that happens in these games is that people chase companion Approval regardless of RP. Alas it's hard to fight the dopamine of brrr make the number go higher, make the pretty elfman like me more. BUT the Cole quest is like the one line of questioning where you catch Solas in a weird half lie about court intrigue. (i promise this will make sense).

Solas: I had forgotten how I missed court intrigue.

Inquisitor: You miss court intrigue? When were you at court?

[Solas slightly disapproves]

Solas: Oh! Well... Never... directly, of course! 

As pointed out by many others: this is the one instance where asking him more questions earns you disapproval vs approval. So choosing to make Cole human, to me, is the more interesting choice because it earns you disapproval. I’m still going to analyze both options don’t worry though. 

To have Cole become more of a spirit is in line with Solas’ core beliefs. Clearly. He believes spirit’s natures shouldn’t be corrupted, they have singular, core traits that they must be adhered to and physical beings should not abuse them. Cool and true statements I would hope we all agree with. 

Some other users have already tread this ground. But by affirming Cole’s nature as a spirit, Solas sees the Inquisitor be respectful to Cole’s nature and upon reflection in Veilguard: see his own past redefined. It can be healing for him to see an Inquisitor show the empathy and grace he wasn’t. Which is fantastic, lovely, intimate and I think goes a long way to him seeing the differences in the modern world vs the ancient one. He can see that people here do care for spirits and they can be welcome and exist as they are! 

But what I think is juicier is earning that disapproval by siding with Varric and letting Cole be more human. Knowing what we know now, it’s so easy to see that Solas doesn’t want to see his same path be repeated. (Which, another side note that you can earn approval from Solas allowing HIM to kill the mages in his personal quest, but he disapproves of Cole not letting go and let god with the templar? He wants Cole to be calm and forget his pain, become detached, as he is unable to be anymore.) It’s a fantastic echo/mirror/theme repeated. And now we’re really able to get to the evidence that supports my thesis. 

Cole turning more human has him more tethered to the world. He feels more feelings, he can’t make people forget him, if he wants to offer comfort and compassion he has to do that with words and his presence, not magic. if he turns more into a spirit, he speaks with less emotion and is more detached from the people around him. He is compassionate, of course, as is his nature, but that is all he is and he does not understand deeper complexities of emotions. HE might be compassion, but he isn't seen or understood as a compassionate person ya know? As a spirit, he takes a very easy straightforward approach to helping people (make them forget) rather than the messier, more complicated, way a person does.

So using this as a reflection on Solas and the Evanuris: bro has never been able to get over the trauma of becoming a person. He does not know how to exist with the complexities beyond being just Wisdom. He is trying to run Spirit Software on physical hardware. And like, sure, you technically can, but he’s ignoring all the background processes that are contradicting and fucking up his systems. 

I imagine as a spirit of Wisdom, his goal was just to accrue information, vibe, and give opinions if asked. By who? IDK other spirits? Early people? Probs not the titans and dwarves. Probs a pretty chill existence other than the war thing going on, that he generally is able to ignore until good ol’ Mythal comes calling. 

Now she… is a lot. But I’ll extend the same grace to her as I do Solas which is to say, no one has done the shit they have done before, no one has transcended their nature. I think the Evanuris, as fucked as they are, have similar trauma over their creation. And the road to hell is paved with good intentions and I think they all believe they have good intentions. 

If Mythal is a spirit of benevolence, and she managed to convince herself that taking a physical form to protect her people is the right thing to do, ok. She is clearly able to justify that taking a physical form will help in the long run. Just because she’s a spirit of that emotion doesn’t mean she’s right. BUT, add onto that a new slew of emotions and complexities to the concept of benevolence (not just retribution, but selfish desires being masked as being for the greater good), I can see the Evanuris being in denial and assuming that they are continuing to operate as detached and unbiased as when they were spirits (they were not). 

Which is why I think Solas was convinced by Mythal. Surely she was operating with the best intentions, for him and for other spirits and not just her and the other’s agendas. And his subsequent horror and regret over taking a physical form sets up his whole Lucy with the football situation of believing, hoping, Mythal is still the pure being of good he knew her to be. 

Surely her benevolence is not conditional? Wouldn't that go against her nature, her purpose?

I think that’s why he gets so fucked up when the Evanuris go against their word. And I think he feels shitty and guilty in new horrible ways he didn’t when he was a spirit. He was able to stay detached, like Cole could be, and dispense “objective" wisdom without clouded feelings of guilt. He didn’t have to worry about other feelings or the outcomes, because spirits are simple creatures and really so long as he’s asked a question and someone appreciates the answer that’s all he needs. Becoming a person and subsequently seeing the consequences to the advice you consider correct, and either a) being ignored by the people who asked for your advice (Mythal) or b) see it followed through and having to live with the consequences (yuck, he never had to do that before and it sucks now). 

Like the memory of the citadel attack where Fellasan is horrified that he could send those spirits to their death so callously. Solas makes an argument like a detached wisdom spirit would. Our objective was to retrieve the relic, what’s the best way to do that? Create a distraction that is big enough to make your enemy think this is your actual goal for an agent to retrieve the item. In order to do that, you need it to be convincing so go whole hog. So long as a spirit doesn’t go against its nature, there is no technical foul. It isn't sociopathic thinking but it’s a brutally clean line of logic. It’s similar to the Nadas Durthalan, you have to ask the right question. Fellasan didn’t ask how to get out with the least bloodshed: he asked for the relic.

So Solas has a fucked up way of just trying to keep operating like a wisdom spirit and not feel anything else. He keeps trying to answer the questions asked of him. He keeps trying to believe in Mythal’s core nature, and in doing so he puts blinders on and hobbles himself horribly trying to ignore all his other emotional complexities. Guilt, regret, his desperation for contact and comfort, things he didn’t need before. He can’t go through the ego death of accepting he is forever changed, let alone that Mythal is. And god forbid he, a spirit of wisdom, was wrong. Operated illogically, blinded by emotion.  

Which interestingly, given the final scene, I’m still unsure of how much his service of her is his own denial or genuine magical compulsion. She was clearly able to defy his nuggets of wisdom but I’m not sure how much was him trying to console himself that she is Benevolence, she has to mean well, it is her nature, and how much is being bound to her service. But either way, I see his dogged pursuit of tearing down the Veil as him continuing to follow her orders or answer the question/task asked of him. 

Mythal wanted to protect her people. The elves of today are not really her people. She wants vengeance for her murder. Solas is either magically compelled to follow her orders or is again, so bent out of shape to exist as he once was, he’ll restore her people as they once were by tearing down the Veil. He can convince himself that her desire for that is Good at its core, the same way he can convince himself This is the Only Way because its the way he sees how to do it and he is Wisdom so it must be the right choice. 

It’s a very poetically tragic, stupid, logical fallacy way of thinking but that is a classic tragedy. 

I also love the idea of him experiencing the Horrors of the humanoid body. Does he enjoy eating? Does he enjoy taste but hate that he now Has to eat? Based on what foods we find in the lighthouse I’d guess yes. This dude hates that he has to eat, piss, and shit, and gets tummy aches now. He wants to go back to simpler times. 

But yeah, those are my thoughts mostly! I think brother Egg has been trying to keep as one track as possible, to the detriment of the world around him lmao. 

[titanicfreija]

I'm having fun with the implications of Ghost's Shell reverting

Spoilers

Ultimately-- because his shell reverted when he died, Ghost indicated that all shell changes are ongoing conscious efforts from the Ghost to maintain the physical change in the Light. The generalist shell is the default, by the look of things, but since Sagira's shell didn't do that, does this imply that they have a "natural" shell? The Generalist doesn't have to be the way they all started, whether or not the Young Wolf's did.

What does that say about the shells in Eververse? Are they patterns for the Ghost to shape? Solid pieces to infuse with Light? Meta-shaped pieces to fill in with Light? Does the Hareball Shell really exist? I've always seen our inventory as quick-access data, so if the shells we keep are the same, does the Ghost make them out of Light? Reshape themselves according to guidance?

Because I've noticed the ball core bit being two different configurations, one with the round eye and one with rectangle, among other differences, which change with the shell, but as I've recently discovered, the core body thing and the flaps are indeed parts of the same whole, which comes with its own fun questions about preferences and whether or not the Ghost can mismatch if they want.

Where do the non-standard come from? Glint was like that before he found Crow. Was the shell constructed by the Ghost as they shaped it? Were they born like that? (Knowing this game, both and more)

Can a Ghost make their shell completely disappear? Reduce it to the core? Can they make extra parts, or keep extra petal flaps around? Does dirt move with shell parts? Does the shell piece continue to exist outside of the Ghost, when the Ghost isn't paying attention? Does the same piece keep the same dirt on it between materialization? (I've always said yes about armor and guns until a recombination of the data is compiled, usually by upgrading)

I'm still pondering if they can exist outside their shell (so long as they aren't disrupted).

How much of the shell is actually under their control? Implications from shell configurations are that they can't control color pattern configurations and require a blueprint to follow; same with the flaps. Since the body is two shapes, I'm still inclined to think the narrative would see the Ghosts preferring one shape or another regardless of the rest of the shell but then the question becomes whether or not they can do that or if they're stuck with what's there.

What does this say about the solid chunk shells? Like the heart shaped shell or the squeaky toy? Did the Ghost climb inside of a thing they animate or did they shape it around themselves?

-

Of course, the REAL answer is that animating every single shell in the game into that cut scene would be a massive pain in the ass and the reversion saves the effort, data, and time; and is a great way to kill him visually, with more impact than just the eye winking out.

But I'm still having a great time thinking that Sunny keeps a spare bit of mind focused specifically on keeping her spare shell clutter in her "room" regardless of where she is.

[stuck-in-jelly]

Does Soren even have an arc anymore? Whats up with Soren and dragons?

Hey. i am so sorry you activated a neuron i didn’t know was in my brain so im giving you a chance to turn away from the essay below.

TLDR

Soren’s Arc heavily centers around his conflicting feels for his family and shame he feels at times for the love and care he still harbors for them despite everything.

I think Soren’s Arc is stagnant right now (probably due to the fact the dragon prince unfortunately had to cut a lot of content since they weren’t given enough episodes) but i believe that we’re building up to his conflicting feelings with his family.

His arc is centered around family specifically who you consider family, family with conflicting ideals, and how much of your own self are you willing to give up for the sake of family.

We know that Soren still loves Claudia even after everything. He waited for her he hoped she would come back home. (Season 4 Ep 7)

We also know that he felt relief knowing he hadn’t killed his father but at the same time wondered if it would’ve been better if he did (Through The Moon Graphic Novel)

It puts him in a weird painful spot. Although they both hurt him and although he recognized the situation was bad enough that he had to run away and turn against his family to do the right thing he still at his core loves them.

His dad once carried him with love and pride, his sister once held his hand as they ran around playing. They both once used to carry themselves with charming curiosity before it turned morbid.

These coming seasons I hope we get to hear more it, more of Soren’s feelings towards his family and how much he misses them cause at the end of the day Soren loves deeply even after being wronged or hurt.

As for the dragons it feels very symbolic in a lot of ways. I think often of this one post I unfortunately couldn’t find but it shows all the credit arts that show Soren and his plush dragon, it starting off with him hugging his plush then turning to him pointing a toy sword to it then back to him as an adult hugging it again. They speculated it going in order of: before Soren’s mom left and him just being a kid, after his mom left and him wanting to make his dad proud by ‘slaying’ the dragon, then him as an adult embracing the dragon again.

I personally also see the connection with the two different versions of The Del Barian Legend of The Serpentongue Rivers.

The first story claiming the first King of Del Bar fought a tyrant dragon, slaying it and flinging its across the land.

The second claiming a simple hunter instead charmed a dragon pulling its tongue to form a river for the land.

One is about strength, power, and status. (Ideals Viren holds close)

The other is about charisma, community, and humility. (Ideals Soren holds close)

I also think of the general wind and dragon motifs around Soren.

When he was a child he had a hard time breathing. He had to learn breathing exercises in order to not get winded.

When the dragons land Soren waves happily and unlike everyone else who flinches and braces themselves for the strong gust of winds from the dragons wings Soren stands straight and strong almost unfazed by the strong winds.

He also stands the most confidently on Zubeia when they are flying.

Then of course his bond with squeaky how quickly he was able to decipher what she was feeling and immediately helping her out.

I know this turned into a whole ramble but at this point i don’t care i had fun

[vessilin]

hey guys i have decided that i will now become a TMAGP account. hashtag. love this new podcast!! as soon as my hands stop swelling I WILL be making RedCanary fan art. I cannot express how much i’m loving this series rn

more below the cut! ! (SPOILERS)

OKAY SO!! episode #1 has thoroughly shaken me to the core. thank you so @sunnyspookss for listening to me yap about it over discord. love u suns!! here are my thoughts on the characters :

Sam - I cannot describe how I feel about this creature. I’m loving them and they’re giving me very… main character vibes (obviously but… anything could change who knows). Currently loving the idea that they wear glasses !!! Def a really fleshed out character (even from just the first episode).

I know Sam SAID that they were working here to ‘get back on [my] feet’ but I feel like there might be something more behind it?

Alice - right off the bat !! I’m loving her. she seems so incredibly sweet and i’m HC-ing her as a trans woman. live laugh love Alice !!! She’s so silly and in some ways reminds me of Tim Stoker ? I think it’s really interesting and I can’t wait to see how her character develops!!

ALSOOO TTHE FACT THAT SHE AND SAM USED TO DATE!??? AUGH. during college too? I feel like this is running a real close parallel to Jon and Georgie.

Gwen <333 - I can totally see some of the Bouchard family line coming in here. At first (a.k.a. the first 10 minutes or so) i didn’t really have any strong opinions and kinda forgot that her last name was bouchard but after the little scene of her and Lena in the office I started to love her even more. The boldness and the gall this woman has makes me want to shake her around like a squeaky toy.

When Lena was like “what do you even want here anyways 😒😒” AND GWEN WENT “your job” I LOST IT. LIKE.

I don’t even know if she and Elias are related but goddamn?!! I’m literally in love.

Lena - She knows something. This woman. this girl. she knows something that I do not know and I do not like it.

Colin - Live Laugh Love Colin!!! He def knows what’s going on!! I have a feeling he’ll be rlly important to the plot and his little end ‘speech’ (more like dialogue but oh well) at the end of the first episode was like??? Major Eye vibes.

RedCanary - I don’t even know where to begin. The insanity? The deleting photo? Canaries should stay above ground? The anger at ArcherK?? The mystery?

I really hope this character comes back but even if they’re a Sarah Baldwin situation that is 110% okay. I love the premise of this person finding something in that box (or maybe just the box in general) that drives them to insanity or drives them to some new information?

Misc. - Ok! Im not sure if the same like… ‘fears’ apply but someone (hi sunny) has said that there might be a new fear system? i think that’s going to be really fun to get into once I listen to the second episode. Secondly !!!! The Magnus Archive being turned into the library of alexandria (not literally but still) is such a cool concept to me. I think it’s very inchresting to think about because

A) as a child i loved researching TLA (the library of alexandria) and B) it makes a whole new timeline- i think?? Or maybe it’s some like alternate dimension or something!!! who knows!! I love it!

The idea of lost knowledge (and that knowledge once being uncovered driving people to insanity) (shoutout redcanary we will remember you!) is such a cool concept in general. the what-ifs and the maybes that can stem from it are so interesting and I can’t wait to see if they expand on that or not!! Either way- i’m loving the podcast so far.

ALSO JON AND MARTIN BEING CHESTER AND NORRIS RESPECTIVELY? DOES THIS MEAN THAT AUGUSTUS IS LIKE. ELIAS OR JONAH???? AUGH THIS PODCAST IS SO GOOD IM LOSING IT

[a-b-o-v-eg-r-o-u-n-dr-a-d-i-s-h]

I loved @krikeymate’s idea of Sam having a squeaky toy that I expanded a bit on it of where it came from and the other toys she’d have.

Chad and Mindy would eventually find out about Sam destroying the pillow and the chew toys Tara got her. So as a joint gag birthday present they bought her a bunch of dog toys; a spiked ball, tug of war rope and some squeaky toys (a fire truck that sounds like a bicycle horn, and a stuffed duck that quacks). Sam says that she jokingly hates the twins and their presents but they all know that she’s teasing and loves them. Sam’s favourite is the duck since it’s soft she can bring it to bed with her and if she happens to fall asleep with it at least they’re not sleeping on the hard plastic of the fire truck.

She enjoys now how she can play with the Core 4 during full moons. She plays catch with Chad since he has the best arm among them but never returns the ball back to him. Making Chad chase after her, telling her to “drop it, drop the ball” and “come here.” It never works and when he does ask Tara for help Sam will always give the ball to her, even if asked to give it back to Chad just to spite him.

Sam always manages to convince Mindy with her best puppy dog eyes to play tug of war with her. She’s always gentle pulling at the rope because she knows she stronger than her, but it always evolves into Core 4 vs Sam. More often than not Sam let’s them win, their arguments and teasing about how “you’re not even trying” and “pull harder, we’re almost winning” always entertains her.

Sam usually lets Tara be, waiting for her to join on her own volition or when she asks Sam to do something with her, not wanting to be the one to trigger her asthma with her excitement to play. Tara understands why Sam does this, so she lets her have playtime with the Twins first before asking if they can go on a run together. Sam’s always eager and excited to go for a run with Tara on her back, able to share something with her sister even if it’s just running around. Tara goads and eggs on Sam to go faster or daring her to jump over something, in hopes of tiring her out. After their run Tara gives Sam the fire truck to chew on as they all doze and nap curled into Sam.

[snarky-art]

Alrighty I’ve finally finished season 5

I hate how obvious it is they’re trying to tone the show down completely to even lower audience demographic. The first 3 seasons were for kids but there was actual peril and darker concepts and stuff that were much more interesting damn you Nickelodeon and your desperate attempt to keep the most squeaky clean image ever not only does it not work it’s costing stories and plot

I REFUSE to believe Stella would be a bad fashion designer with how much she loves fashion (I know it was a joke in s1 too but I still refuse). Plus, avant-garde is a thing and she would serve

That boat that was sent from Andros was def made exclusively for the winx there is NO WAY that style exists anywhere else on that planet for land related peoples with all of its hard lines and industrial style architecture with its limited color palettes

The nautical themed outfits are cute but Bloom’s looks SO overdone to me and Stella,, my sweet babygorl,, wtf did you do to your own fit?? Aisha’s poodle puff braid ftw also

Harmonix was totally useless BUT I still like the flower petal aesthetic vibe (even tho only Flora is a nature floral lady) and some of the color combos. Bloom in pink is still a no tho, which is something I mainly hate because of how obvious it is they started integrating it into her more to make her more marketable for toy lines and shit

Where did the gems that were already on the starfish thing for sirenix come from?

The amount of times the girls all gasp or ooo or ahh and go like “wow!” “so cool!” “amazing!”,, I will kill I feel like I’m watching a 1990s or early 2000s anime dub I hate it I hate it I hate it

Icy would NOT simp like this (shoutout to her leaving Valtor when he got ugly and telling him that’s why she’s leaving him)

The relationship drama was just as stupid and hamfisted as I thought it was from an outside skim of the season based off of secondhand knowledge ie posts and gifs. Also, Krystal did nothing wrong, she’s just autistic and Helia would NOT introduce Flora as anything other than the love of his life.

Timmy and Tecna also have one of the healthiest relationships why tf is everyone trying to give them advice like this they’ve all been dating for YEARS why are all of y’all so insecure like this? The writers really said fuck everyone’s character development even more than they already had

I continue to not give a shit about skoom also this was just exhausting I can’t do it

Also that is NOT Luna and Radius. That “he wouldn’t say that!” meme is ME SOOOO MUCH during this season at so many people but I actually started YELLING about Luna being some sort of soft gorl while Radius is this prideful ignoramus

Sirenix giving Aisha that blonde hair while knowing about the insane white washing to come in the future is something I Think About

The sirenix song does bop also, although I’m so sorry to say I don’t think I’m as big of a fan of it as a lot of people are but maybe that’ll change as I hear it more please forgive me

Also, Musa’s little coffee grinder move during her sirenix transformation? So cute, wish we actually got to see it more than like 2 times. Damn you shortened sirenix transformarion sequence

Im convinced Tecna doesn’t actually know karate, she just thinks it looks cool so she mimics it. Same with Flora and her ballet/lyrical looking poses she does during her sirenix transformation sequence. She doesn’t actually know those styles of dance, she just thinks they looks neat and tries to copy it.

Dark sirenix, you’re slaying thank you for your service

Bloom, you can’t insult Diaspro and remind her you’re a princess in that fucking dress while she’s serving cunt like that

The combat is soooo slow compared to previous seasons I hate it

The rigging throughout this season was a MESS

They should go after the handful of companies that are actually responsible for the majority of pollution and destroy them and their ceos a la Flora season 1 core

Where did they put all of that trash they got out of the ocean? They went to the pacific trash island and cleaned it up. Where did it go? I’m so curious

All of the kings are so STUPID too the whole meetup thing was so dumb like just fucking,, help each other you know it makes more sense

AND PUT SOME MF RESPECT ON THE WINX’S NAMES, ALL OF THEM. They are GUARDIAN FARIES who have saved the magical world HOW MANY TIMES NOW??? Bites the writers bites the writers bites the writers

Their little dance workout outfits? Hatred. I miss the old ones so much. All of these outfits from this season,, it’s so clear cishet people were the main ones designing the clothes I hate it so much it’s not the same kind of tacky and camp that the first 3 seasons had. The only good things I can say about the dance outfits is that Flora’s purple leg warmers were cute, Aisha’s color palette was nice, and Bloom’s was very Bloom core

Icy: you guys are helping me??

Darcy and Stormy: I mean, yeah, we aren’t talking to you rn, but you’re still out sister

Me: OUGH🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭

I forgot Roy existed🥲

Daphne being brought back like this still seems so bleh to me knowing how they don’t really do shit with it and about how it was done only because they retconned all the og stuff from canon and to continue to milk the franchise until it’s teats are dry and chapped BUT I’m glad she does a little spinny at the end of the season with Bloom so at least I got that

that’s all I got for now

Shout out to @charmixpower for suffering through this all with me.

We watched the first half of the series in like 2 or 3 sittings that took place months apart, and then did the last half in one 8 hour sitting

I couldn’t have gotten through it without yelling at each other and making shitty jokes.

The psychic damage you inflicted on me throughout this was awful but I would do it all again in a heartbeat (but not really because good lird this was EXCRUCIATING sorry bestie💕💕💕)

Anyway onto season 6 now I GUESS

[jawbonemotif]

Consider Devil May Cry 👁👁

The games themselves are very mechanically intense, but at the core the series is a family drama.

The protagonist of the series is Dante, a half-devil who hunts demons that invade the human world. His father was a very powerful demon named Sparda who did his best to seal hell away from the human world. After doing so, he settled down with a human woman named Eva and had twin boys, one of which was Dante. Sparda made many enemies among other demons, and as a result his legacy is a heavy one.

Dante spends the series dunking on his enemies as stylishly as possibly, protecting the human world, and trying to reconcile with what little family he has remaining. The most recent game is Devil May Cry 5, which the community has made literally brain-dead easy to mod, so when I get bored actually playing the game it does double-duty as a dress-up game!! Despite the darkness and seriousness of some the lore, the games don’t take themselves too seriously and like to get a little silly, a little goofy.

Going by the in-universe timeline, the games go DMC 3, DMC 1, DMC 2, DMC 4, and then lastly DMC 5. It’s a case study of how much profit you can rake in when your twinks are allowed to actually grow old.

A second protagonist joins the series for DMC 4 and 5, and his name is Nero. He seems to me like a character that would kinda resonate with you. He’s very unrestrained with his emotions and tends toward aggression and bluster to express them. He’s so... *squeezing him violently like a squeaky toy* to me.

There’s deffo playthroughs of 1, 3, and 5 at least on Youtube, some really cool analysis videos of the characters’ theme songs, bangin music in general, and lots of combo videos where people exploit the game mechanics to get as silly as possible.

If you hear of a game called DmC: Devil May Cry, that is the shitty reboot and not worth investigating. #notmyvergil

TL;DR I fucking love my silly goofy cartoon violence games with family drama and dark undercurrents and absolutely awesome music 👍

i'll check it out!

[pizzatrocious]

In Fake Noise's defense, he was doing a wonderful job at that captcha for someone that isn't a human.

The explosion was sudden. It was violent. And most importantly of all, it was comedically-timed. With nowhere to go and nothing to do as they rattled around in that bus like coins in a piggy bank, the best that the two Fakes could do was brace for the explosion.

Both were sent flying by the blast, with one of them very visibly splattering against the ground near the audience seats, and the other tumbling across the arena's ground, promptly buried under the rubble of the bus.

As for the one previously being crushed to death by Peppino? Consider him saved by the bell, the explosion sending him flying a good distance from the Italian and inferior. He slowly rose to his feet, his body visibly crushed like a soda can. After sticking his thumb into his mouth and blowing into it like a balloon, he was back to normal once more—at least, as normal as this guy can be.

And that was when he heard it.

Boy, did he hear it. It nearly shook him to his core, nearly destabilized him, and filled him to his very core with joy. This is EXACTLY what he'd been hoping for from the very moment this episode started. Though not the ideal conditions, especially with that idiot interfering, he'd still be able to make the most out of this. The snake giggled as he watched the other finally boil over with a rage that could never be described in mere words.

"WOW!! Now THAT'S WHAT I LIKE TO SEE, PEPPY!! GIVE US A REAL SHOW, ONE TO RERUN FOR DECADES!"

If there was ever a time to use that secret weapon he so ominously alluded to before, NOW was that time. What once was a silly grin turned malicious, eyes gleaming a distinct red color as he reached under his hat... and his arm just kept going, further and further into the void.

"I hope you're ready for THIS ONE, 'cause THIS is gonna be a REEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAL knockout!!"

A loud rumbling began. An unfathomable amount of sound erupted from the clone's hat... various animals, various vehicles... the roaring sound of a rocky landslide, the brutal eruption of a volcano... the loud CLANGING of many, many, MANY metal pipes, a cacophony of squeaky toys, a harsh demonic roar...

Then, finally, he had it. He knew he had mere milliseconds before Peppino was directly on top of him, he had to act quickly.

His hand finally returning from the hat, he was quick to brandish none other than th—

...Oops, wrong thing.

. . .

But, in your honest opinion, on a scale of one to ten...

Peppino was not having a good time. While Noise was cackling as he shot that paintball gun, he let out a harsh 'ough' as his attacker hit him in the gut. His words cut deeper than his claws would had he not stumbled back and narrowly avoided that swipe. He knows the other is trying to get a rise out of him. That's what he was trying to do this entire time, even when he was first kidnapped and during the stalling session. That's what was holding him back, really. He didn't want to give the other what he WANTED.

Good luck finding another Ronnie. Good luck finding another Gustavo. Good luck finding another Wario. . . . Where was Omino? He's still in disbelief that him seeing that red cap in the audience on a blue blur was Ronnie, perhaps thinking it was a cruel joke, but...

Avoiding swipes and swings on a bus that revved up and was about to move wasn't an easy task, even after narrowly avoiding them he fell right onto his ass, trying to get up only to be met with a gun between his eyes and freezing in place. The visual and implication that he was going to die right here was one thing. But the other's words...

You're the reason why they're here. They love you and they will get hurt because they do.

The fake gun gag didn't matter. He didn't react. You know why, Fake Noise?

Two hands suddenly CLAP over the beast's sides as he's now being held in an iron grip, being violently crushed. The other could feel Peppino's heartbeat getting impossibly fast through this contact. His eyes showing more and more unfiltered raw hatred that was clearly being held back so violently at the beginning of all this... Clearly being held back by mere threads that had burned so abruptly away. A new form contempt. An urge to kill, not simply leave the other unconscious and leave to recover on their own terms. The heat death of the universe. There's your good news.

You succeeded.

... Enough about that loser actually, because on the other side of the bus, Noise aimed his paintball gun at the other again he's always wanted to use one of these things can you blame him for sticking with it, jolting a bit as the bus began to move. Ah, rule of vehicle comedy, unlike horror movies where the car doesn't start up, the key was always in the ignition in these sorts of scenarios. Noise watched as the other brought up the missus and slapped the gun out of his hands. The man just smacked his lips and went 'rude' as if this wasn't a high stakes situation and in response, put up his own dukes, a--...

"BAKE ME A CAKE AS FAST AS YOU CAN,"

Are you serious? Dude. Maybe he's reveling in the contradicting moods in this one reply, here. He keeps the comedic back and forth going as he uh. Why does he feel like a nuclear bomb is about to go off. Erm, he's right behind me, isn't he-- WAIT. NO. His attention harshly snaps down at the hole where he naturally saw the broken emergency brake. And the still incomplete captcha. Noise stopped his tomfoolery for once as his arms stretched down through one of the openings on top of the bus and pulled up on the wheel. You know, if it was a damn plane.

"NO, YOU IDIOT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T COMPLETE A SIMPLE--- WOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGG--"

The bus, in that moment, did become a plane. Well, in caveman terms. It abruptly flipped high into the air over the main stage...

...

As the bus was on the edge of oblivion, with the Noises and a very angry Italian about to explode, it thought to itself. It reminisced. Sitting in that parking lot with the wife and kid... You know what, maybe I don't want to sit here in this empty lot with the chance I'll be driven on occasion. But we're buses, she said. You have a son. I want to be funny, the bus said. I want people to remember me, specifically. The silence in the night was deafening as the bus's brakes, through some twist of fate, released on their own, causing it to roll out of that large lot unscathed, somehow.

You've ever been pocketed by a cartoon character because he went 'oh neat'? Just, floating there in a void, waiting to be used? Gloved fingers, choosing everything around you but not you. Today was finally the day I began to live. Where I was used in an important moment... Now, this is my finale. Everything I wanted... The laughs, the joy, the shock... I can already feel the comedic explosion imminent in a few moments as everything goes into slow motion.

Goodbye to you all... Noise... Peppino.... And yes, even you, Pizzahead.

The bus, clearly the most important muse in this whole plot, tragically exploded loudly in mid-air, sending Noise flying off in one direction and bouncing off the floor multiple times clipping through it like a gmod ragdoll for a moment and Peppino in the other, skidding on the floor and, thanks to his wonderful luck, he's suddenly center stage again. Peppino slams his fists into the ground and the momentum makes him get up onto his feet immediately. He has something very important to say, actually.

...Oh wow, was that... That had to be a new record, sorry for literally everyone in that room right now, that's nearly ear bleeding level and literally seems to have enough force to create some sort of energy burst that is felt throughout the entire room. It probably caused a chunk of duplicates near the front row seats to destabilize.

[matenrou-fan]

Could I request Lucifer going down to his fem darling or cockwarming with Lucifer? Feel free to ignore

Lucifer going down to his fem! s/o

I think I got a little bit wild with this one..💀

Femreader, domLucifer, a lot of teasing, begging, mention of sex toys and double penetration; bondage;;

-Oh.. You should be prepared, honey.

-Cause Lucifer is not only a pro in it, but also a great lover of teasing.

-Starting so slow and passionate, deep long licks and hot kisses as he helps you to warm up and have some pleasure, but when your voice starts to get more whiny, when your body starts asking for more, uh oh, you won't get it.

-He's always in charge, always controlling, and in the bedroom too. So he loves to play with you by his rules.

-And one of his rules is to beg. To beg nice and good, so he will have some time to enjoy your shaky voice.

"Say it louder.." - he sounds so calm and playful, as always, but you can hear some dominating undertones in his voice - "I want to hear clearly what you want me to do, or I will stop, darling."

-He just can't get enough of this amusing expression of yours, cloudy eyes half closed, beautiful shade of pink on your cheeks, mouth trembling as you try to ask him for more with this sweet squeaky voice.

-In the beginning, just some little praise is enough. Luci will continue, finally speeding up a little, enjoying more of your loud shameful moans as his tongue works so well, abusing all your sweet spots at just perfect pace.

-But now the real game starts, as he will bring you to the edge, almost to the climax where you can't think about anything else but your pulsing heated core that it's about to explode… just for him to suddenly stop, as he doesn't touch you absolutely, only hands firmly grasping your thighs so you can't squirm around.

-The way your voice sounds so disappointed and needy, this desperate look that you give him as you whine and struggle, trying to get just a little friction, just a little bit, you are so close.. Ah, for him it's just so cute, Luci can't help but chuckle.

"Mm? What's wrong, darling? Don't you think you should say something?" - he smirks even more smuggy than usual, admiring this embarrassed face of yours - "Maybe a magic word…"

-This time you need to beg more, pleading him to touch you again, to finally let you cum.. Your broken cry is just the most wonderful music to this teasing demon.

-He will repeat this thing several times, until you can't even talk, just sobbing and whining in his arms, your folds so so wet from a mix of your juices and his saliva but you still didn't cum, not even once. Your clit is so oversensitive now, his hot breath on your pussy is enough to send shivers down your spine.

-Only now, when you are so shaky and tense, when Luci can't see anything but pathetic need in your eyes, an unreleased urge to finally feel more and more of his tongue and fingers.. Only now he will do it properly, sucking you hard and massaging your sensitive spot deep inside you with his fingertips.

-Well, maybe he was teasing you (if not torturing) for so long but you came so hard and good this time, almost seeing stars under you shut eyes.

-And Lucifer really adores this, his dark red eyes glowing as he admires how you arch your back, grabbing sheets around you with shaking hands, your fingers almost red from strong grasp.. He can see how you roll your eyes, throw your head back, loud long moans fill the room for a few moments as you cum in his mouth.

-Of course he will lick it all, tasting your delicious juices. How can he not when you cum for him so well?

"Your taste.. it's sweeter than honey, and more intoxicating than the most aged Demonus can ever be.." - Lucifer whispers with a voluptuous smile on his lips as he slowly stroking your folds, his lips on your clit as he kisses it gently - "I think I will be addicted soon.."

-He loves when you also get down to him after he pleases you, but sometimes he himself gets so horny during these little foreplays, so he can't help but immediately get on top of you, hungry eyes on your body as you can hear how he unzips his pants.

"Are you ready for the main act, little star?" - he kisses you passionately and sloppily as his hands grab your hips and lift them closer to his crotch. - "I prepared you really well today.."

-Also.. someone said sex toys? Cause Lucifer is in.

-He's pretty kinky so he has a small collection, and loves to use them as they help him to tease you even more. It's just so cute, you can't control your weak voice when he pushes the vibrator inside you, fingers playing with the remote.

"We just started and you are so whiny already.." - he shook his head and pressed a button so speed increased a little now - "Does this little toy make you feel that good? Tell me, darling.."

-If you don't mind then he will be more than glad to use two toys and once, stimulating not only your cunt but ass too now. He's just curious how long you will last under heavy attacks of his tongue and two dildos, as he can clearly hear how rapid your breath is and see how you curl your toes, almost reaching another orgasm.

-Well if we start talking about all that stuff then I should mention that tying you up is also one of his favorite things. Especially if Lucifer wants to tease and play with you for a while longer.

-Even the process itself is so intimate for him, as he gently strokes your body, wrapping ropes around naked hot skin. Every tight rope makes a wave of goosebumps run on your skin as he slowly immobile you.

-Kisses you from your neck to your trembling chest, checking all knots if they are hurting you or not, then slowly get closer to your stomach, hips and already wet womanhood.

"Mm, now it's hard to hide from my touches, darling?" - he smirks, watching as you try to squirm around when he starts massaging your clit with the tip of his finger. You whimper, all your insides twitching and tingling as you struggle back and forth in vain.

-Lucifer is too good in bondage so be ready for some long teases, as he scolds you in a calm but mocking tone about how you are still being so disobedient as you are trying to move from his passionate tongue and fingers.

-Risky places? Well, it depends.

-Never will do this in RAD or if you get the opportunity to stay for a night in Demon Lord's Castle, but in his office when you clearly can hear some of his brothers walking around in the corridor? Absolutely.

"If you will be a good quiet girl, everything will be fine.." - he whispers right in your ear in such a sweet seducing tone as his hand finds its way under your skirt. Few moments and you're already starting to get wet as his fingers caress your folds so well through the thin fabric of your panties..

-Will do it right on table, moving all paperwork away as now he has a much more interesting business between your legs.

-If he just really needs himself and wants it to be quick, then you are lucky, as he will just licking all your juices at a rapid pace, so so thirsty.. But you reach your orgasm so fast, squeezing his head with your thighs as you try to hold back your moans.

-But if he is in a mischievous mood.. It's even worse than usual, as Lucifer wants to see how embarrassed you would be, trying to hide your whines from everyone in the house.

"Sh.. Don't you want somebody to hear us?" - he clicks his tongue with such mocking gaze when you grasp the table corner with a shaking arm and accidentally drops his pen holder on the floor - "Or you actually want them to come in and see how good I make you feel? What a naughty girl you are, s/o.."

-"But don't worry. I will take care of you and your little dirty needs, so be obedient and just spread these pretty legs for me and enjoy my game.."

[daisyvisions]

as long as you’re sure you’re okay with it!!

11 (“I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.”), 94 (Whispered praises against the other’s lips, which are met with soft whimpers and moans.), and 96 (“Oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?”) with eric please 🥹

yes i might just be the softest subbiest eric whore you will ever meet i apologise 😭

(don't die pup, enjoy every single drop of this request 🤪)

Desperate

Member & Prompts: Eric Sohn (TBZ) + 11. "I'll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.", 94. Whispered praises against the other’s lips, which are met with soft whimpers and moans., & 96. “Oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?”

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), choking, rough sex, pet names (baby, baby girl, princess), cursing, praising? (idk if there's anything else I missed!)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

It was a cold, quiet afternoon. The sound of raindrops hitting the window, the natural glow from the sky shedding some light into the dark room, and all snuggled up against Eric’s chest.

His back leaning against the headboard, his arms and legs wrapping your body like a warm blanket as you watch him play his video game on the screen in front of you.

Watching the veins in his hands move as he grips the controller, his fingers fiddling with the buttons. You suddenly feel your core throb at the thought of how he caged your body beneath his the night before. Oh how you loved his hands.

The way its firm grip has on your soft skin. The way his rough fingers lightly graze your sensitive spots, making you feel lightheaded every time- just like what had been happening to you at this very moment.

“I-I’m going use the restroom…” you mutter as you get up from the bed. “Okay!” he responds back as his eyes were focused on the game.

Maybe splashing water on your face was a good idea, maybe it would help calm your racing mind… Looks like you spoke a bit too soon. 

The image of the veins protruding on his strong hands were still stuck in your mind, feeling yet another throb down in your core.

Suddenly, you remembered a thought you’ve been trying to suppress down for so long. Would he be into if I asked him? Would he get scared of me or think I’m weird? Shit- You shake your head.

You take a deep breath before opening the door. Looks like today is the day you’ll finally ask him about it.

“Eric?”

“Yes, baby?” his eyes still glued to the screen.

“Have you ever thought about…choking me?”

Eric’s ears perked up like a dog hearing a squeaky toy. The last two words you had uttered had him pausing his game. “What did you just say?”

Oh no, he’s weirded out. Abort, abort, abort- “Uhm… I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about ch-choking me… Or if you’ve ever done that to someone before…”

You stare at the ground, desperately trying to avoid eye contact as the embarrassment creeps up your cheeks.

Yeah, he did hear that right. He wasn't hallucinating one bit. “Well, I tried it once before... Why? What's in that crazy mind of yours, hm?”

You try to speak, but you feel the words getting caught up in your throat.

“Come here y/n, talk to me.” He calls out for you.

Walking towards him felt like an eternity. What’s worse is you felt your stomach twist from driving up the courage to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Look at me, princess.” His warm hands cupping your face, making you tilt your head up at him. “You can tell me anything.” He smiles reassuringly.

“Well-” you gulp down your anxiousness before continuing, “I was wondering if maybe… we could uh… we could try it?”

His eyes widened. There was a moment of silence between the two of you. You start to panic, thinking you might’ve said the wrong thing.

But you were so wrong. In fact, his eyes had widened in excitement, feeling a sudden twitch in his cock the moment he heard your request.

“Oh baby girl… I thought you’d never ask.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, you’ve never seen Eric’s eyes go dark the way they did before. “Wait, wha-”

His lips suddenly crash into yours, feeling his needy tongue slip into your mouth. He starts kissing you everywhere from your jaw to your neck.

It seems you’ve woken up a sleeping beast inside him… and you loved it.

You help each other out of your clothes, leaving only but your soaking underwear on. You gasp into his mouth, almost letting out a moan as you feel his rough fingers slightly tighten around your neck.

“Oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?” he grins looking at how you react.

“Eric, please-”

“Please what, baby?” his hand gripping your throat a little tighter now.

“Please, I need you i-inside me” you whine desperately.

“Say no more.” He grabs your waist and aggressively positions you on your elbows and knees, your ass on full display for him. He pushes your panties to the side, exposing your wet cunt.

He leans forward just enough to whisper in your ear, “I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.” You feel the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, making you shiver from feeling his precum spreading against your folds.

He impatiently pushes himself inside you without warning, making you both moan from the sudden stretch.

Wasting no time, he starts pounding into you like there's no tomorrow, the grip of his hands on your hips tightening the more he feels his cock rub against the ridges of your walls.

“Oh fuck, Eric-” ”You feel so good around me baby, just like that- shit…”

The sounds of skins slapping, his balls hitting your core, and your nipples brushing against the fabric of the mattress has you entering into another dimension.

“Fuck baby- you’re so tight.” he grunts as he continue to thrust harshly into you. You reply with nothing but a strain of broken moans.

Then Eric suddenly remembers the request you had asked him, making his cock twitch inside you. “Up” he commands.

You do as your told and he pauses his movements monetarily as he helps you kneel upright.

He places his hands around your neck before continuing to thrust inside you, making sure that the grip is firm enough to send a message.

You swear you feel your eyes roll back from the overwhelming senses, jaw slacking open as you pant profusely.

“You like that baby? You like my hands around your pretty neck?” his hot breath fanning against your ear.

“Y-yes, s-so much-” You cry out, his thrusts getting deeper each second, hitting your gummy spot so well.

“You’re doing so good baby, so fucking good.” He moves one of his hands to hold your jaw, turning your head to meet his. His lips latch onto yours with much desperation.

“God you’re so perfect…” He groans into your mouth as his thrusts become more rhythmic, his other hand his gripping your neck.

The tight grip making you slightly gasp for air has your head spinning and your core getting wet each second passing by. This is exactly what you’ve been dreaming of.

“Eric- s-so good, fuuckkk” you mewl.

Whispered praises against the other’s lips, which are met with soft whimpers and moans. Had you known your boyfriend had this side to him, you would've asked a long time ago.

And thank god you did.

[doppopoppo]

Instructions

|| Jujutsu Kaisen Daily NSFW Drabble ||

|| Warnings: masturbation, slight power abuse ||

|| Various • F!Reader ||

⚠️MDI⚠️

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*🖤🧡

Yuta 🖤

Your legs were draped over Yutas thin but muscular thighs. You were a panting hot mess. His hands were tracing soothing circles over your knees, praises leaving his red, swollen lips, “Com’on, I know my darling can do it.”

Your lidded eyes gloss over Yutas disheveled self. “I want your fingers though!” You cried out. Your core itching for his fingers instead of your own. You’re not bringing the same pleasure and electricity like he does.

Yuta refused to touch you, opting to watch you pleasure yourself under him. His much bigger hand grabbed yours and put it on your puffy cunt. Immediately your fingers started drawing circles, hoping to reach some sort of relief this man above you refused to give. Your other free hand went up to your right breast to play with it. Pinching and pulling the nipple to add some stimulation.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, my princess.” You heard Yuta groan. You look at him and you can see his dick twitch a little. He was going to track soon.

To send him over the edge, you bit your lip and arched you back, whining, “Baby please, only you. Please!”

“Hmm?” He was toying with you. Foul play.

You tried to go as deep as you could with your fingers, “please touch me already!” You demanded, eyes curling to the back of your head.

Surprising you both, you squirted all over your fingers. You opened your eyes to see some of your juices landed on Yutas inner thighs and dick. Yuta took your fingers out of you, you whimpered at the empty feeling inside of you. Like a true gentleman he is, Yuta licked your juices off your fingers. “Sweet,” he looked into your eyes and smiled, just like you.”

Yuta pulled you close by your thighs, you felt the head of his bouncy on your clit. Both of you let out a moan at the subtle contact. He brought face close down to your ear

“You’re gonna get it, Princess.” Yuta growled.

Toge 🧡

“Add another finger.” Toge's voice came from behind you. You already had 3 fingers in your tight little hole, a fourth finger made it burn but it elicited a moan from your. It was music to Toge's ears as he walked around the chair you were seated on.

“Spread your legs wider.” His voice commanded.

You whimpered, your legs were already as wide they could get. Both legs swinging and hanging over each side of the arm rest. Your eyes were blindfolded so you flinched when Toge's hand slapped your thigh. “Ahh! Toge!” You quickly opened up your legs. They felt so sore but the sting felt so good. You felt yourself contract and clench around your fingers.

Your fingers picked up its pace and you started to thrust them in your cunt. Your palm rubbing nicely against your puffy clit. The chair under you squeaky as you tried to reach your second high for the night.

“Fuck, s-so good!” You whispered.

Squelching noises echoed and bounced off the walls. With your eyesight taken away from you, your fingers in you and hearing how wet you were, heightened. Your fingers were probably pruned from all the sloshing and juices pouring out of you. Your toes were curling and you felt yourself get close.

“Don’t cum.” Toge’s voice now came from the front.

Instantly your hand and fingers froze. Tears welled up in your eyes, soaking the blindfold. “Baby, please let me cum!” You begged him. He was edging you harshly.

“Slap your clit.” The new sensation sent a bolt of electricity up your spine.

Whether you learned your lesson of not bothering Toge while he’s playing games is up to you to decide.

Authors note ✍️

Hello hello, how are you? I’m doing just peachy, apologies for not getting to my former requests. I e started some but didn’t get to finish. I’m not 100% if I’ll continue one of the fandoms I write for, but I’ll definitely continue writing! Just at a slow pace, p busy.

I’ll be writing for Uramichi Oniisan again! And perhaps a few JJK characters here and there. Everything will be updated properly once I get home from work!

Enjoy!

[keyleth-clay]

I genuinely love Callopea and I hope that it goes fully canon.

Not because a ship has to go “fully canon” to be legitimate, or to be enjoyed by the fandom, but because I think the dynamic between Fearne and Chetney is so different from the vast majority of ships that we’ve seen on Critical Role so far.

Because the thing is, I feel like a lot of the fandom kind of sees Callopea as a joke? And not just goofy or lighthearted, but kind of mean-spirited. Like, the idea that this could ever be a “legitimate” ship or that it has any meaning to it is laughable. (This is also kind of reflected in fanworks, since there’s basically no art of them, and there’s like... two people making gifs. In comparison to pairings like Imodna or Dorym which, while I do also ship, there is arguably less concrete evidence of in canon at this point in time).

Which I don’t think is true! I think there’s a lot of depth to both Chetney and Fearne, despite being largely comedic characters, and I think there’s also a lot of potential depth to their relationship, despite it being largely played for laughs.

Take Chetney, for example. I think the depth of his character is best summed up with this quote from The Night Before Critmas (and yes, I know that was Chutney, but he was the basis for the character):

“He told me to make Voltron out of wood. No one wanted it. He told me to make a Game Boy. I can't do circuits. He told me to make the little trolls, but the hair didn't move.”

Again, yes it’s comedic, but the core idea of the character was here – because Chetney/Chutney isn’t just talking about toys. He’s talking about himself. A huge part of this character is dealing with the feeling of obsolescence, of the world moving on without you and you not being needed anymore. That same idea also shows up with Bertrand at the beginning of the campaign, and I don’t think that’s an accident, and I don’t think Travis is doing that just for the joke.

Growing older can be scary. Feeling like you’re out of touch with the world, or that you aren’t needed anymore, or that you just don’t understand things anymore – that’s scary. In a way, it feels like parts of the fandom treat a character being old as a punchline – it sometimes feels like the very idea of a character being elderly, and an elderly character wanting some form of intimate relationship in particular, is worthy of mockery.

I’m sure we’ve all seen commercials or interviews or something that contain some variation on “as we age, our need for intimacy does not diminish”. Yes, Chetney has flyaway white hair and wrinkles and a squeaky old voice and a hat he’s almost laughably attached to and goofy curly toed boots, and he is still deserving of love, and that isn’t a joke. Not that that love needs to be romantic love, necessarily, but love nonetheless.

And I think that it makes perfect sense that Fearne would be the one to recognize that! For one thing, she’s the only one in Bell’s Hells that is anywhere near his age (though there is still a noticeable gap, but who knows how the fuck time works in the Feywild anyways). For another, with her wildshaping and his werewolf transformation, the two of them are the only ones in the group that understand that idea of letting animalistic instinct take over, of the freedom of being wild, and also the occasional lack of control or fear that can come with it. Not to mention both of their… impulsive morals.

But there’s two more ways I feel that these two connect, which are even deeper than what I previously mentioned – one of which I only realized after this most recent episode.

The first is related to this wonderful bit of meta from @captainofthetidesbreath, which I’m not going to reiterate here because a) you should go give them some love, and b) because this is long enough as it is. But to sum it up, Chetney is a toymaker, and takes great pride in that. He takes great joy in seeing other people, especially children, finding joy in what he’s crafted. Out of everyone in Bell’s Hells, I feel that Fearne is the only one who would truly appreciate that. Just look at what he’s made for everybody else – a box, which isn’t a toy. A skyship, which was immediately left behind for a child who would actually play with it and appreciate it. A wooden hand? And a house for Pâté and Sashimi, which is kind of a toy and kind of being played with, but also kind of not.

Fearne, on the other hand, has always had a certain whimsy about her. She enjoys the frivolous, she appreciates the silly, and she makes it a point to collect and steal and have things, simply because they make her happy. That, to me, is closest to the heart of why Chetney is a toymaker in the first place.

The second was something that Fearne said in episode 25. When Dusk showed her the locket that contained the portraits of her parents and that whole conversation started up, Fearne said”

“I don’t know where they are, and I’ve been looking for them, but maybe they just forgot? ‘Cause it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen them.”

I’m very curious as to whether this is a thought that she’s had before during her search for her parents – or if this will continue to weigh on her now that she has thought of it, at least until she’s able to reunite with them.

Because I feel like this ties in with the idea I mentioned above of Chetney feeling obsolete now that he’s gotten older. I could see a real and genuine heart-to-heart happening between them over this. I also wonder – Chetney’s never mentioned any family; no parents, no siblings, and most importantly for this Callopea ship manifesto (apparently), no spouse(s) or children. I get the sense from both of them of just… getting used to being alone and being lonely. That they are genuinely lighthearted and humorous individuals, but that humour does still help to hide some heavier feelings.

CHANGING TOPICS ENTIRELY, I also want to touch on something else that might seem completely counter to everything I’ve written here so far, and that is that this ship doesn’t need to be deep! They don’t need to have a “You know I’m in love with you, right?” or a “My heart belongs to someone else” or a “You were not born with venom in your veins”,  etc etc etc.

A ship doesn’t need to be deep and intense and Romantic-with-a-capital-R to be real and genuine and enjoyable! It can be as simple and light and fun as just two people being attracted to each other and having fun exploring that attraction. Hell, their relationship doesn’t even need to be romantic! I’ve seen people headcanon Fearne as arospec, and I love the idea of a non-romantic but still sexual relationship being explored, and not being treated as lesser because of that.

Hell, they could still end up as a romantic relationship, but start out here, with heavy-handed flirting and overt sexual overtones, and see their relationship as fun but ultimately not particularly meaningful, but then *intense and emotionally-heavy moment later in the campaign happens, especially if one of them nearly dies or does die and is brought back*, and then they realize Oh shit, this isn’t just for funsies, I’ve got real actual romantic feelings for them and I’d be miserable if they were gone. Oh fuck.

And that’s not even touching on the wolf/deer theme they’ve got going on, or the sun/moon vibes that they’re rocking, etc.

Basically there’s just… SO much potential for Callopea, guys. I can’t wait to see where it goes.