#His powers use chains so he likes to wear them a lot

[lilianade-comics]

Some additional thoughts + a detailed summary of the Aragon kidnapping incident, because I have this AU on the brain:

As an extension of the basic core vampire power system being blood based and hinging on consistent blood consumption, there is an antiquated "blood magic" system that is essentially high level, "learned" vampirism by which they can use blood to perform feats outside of the usual stuff. A lot of the rituals and incantations practiced by ancient vampires were lost over generations of slayings and book burnings. Vlad devoted years to studying this mostly lost art and has a few tricks in his arsenal that really spice up the lives of the people he doesn't like (Jack and Maddie). Glamours and full blown shapeshifting are both possible using blood magic.

The majority of active vampires in the world aren't any older than two or three hundred years old and most are relatively young, because the ones that are older are either sleeping or were slain during a near cataclysmic purge that happened a couple centuries ago. Vlad hasn't even cracked a hundred yet, but he is close.

Lots of people ask me about the nature of Vlad and Spectra's relationship in Stolen Sanguine, so here's a detailed explanation. When Vlad fled Jack and Maddie with baby Danielle, he eventually settled down far away and started over from scratch, because Jack and Maddie took the house and everything else in the "divorce" (they burned his castle down.) The village he chose as his territory neighbors Spectra's, and since she is easily the most social vampire around, she was quick to welcome check out Vlad. Upon learning his situation Spectra offered to share her resources and connections with him in exchange for his blood, among other things. Vlad is every bit the egotist, so under normal circumstances he would have shot her down because she's so clearly beneath his station. But these aren't normal circumstances. He's functionally broke and new in town and also has a baby to think of, so he reluctantly agrees to Spectra's deal for Dani's sake because he doesn't have the time to toil over business. But as time passes and Vlad becomes more self sufficient he never breaks his alliance with Spectra, because he recognizes that she's into him to a toxic degree and that makes her useful to him. Spectra is legitimately fond of Vlad because he's a complete mess and she finds mentally unwell men deliciously entertaining.

Maddie's dresses usually don't cover her neck on purpose. She likes to lure her prey closer. Jack is almost constantly wearing a cravat because "those gluttonous parasites aren't taking a bite out of THIS jugular." He hasn't really realized that the cravat never seems to dissuade vampires. If anything, Jack + the stupid cravat makes his neck a bigger target.

A more detailed summary of the Aragon incident and its surrounding context is as follows:

Count Aragon and his sister Dorathea are said to have consumed dragon blood at some point in the past, which has given them dragon abilities that surpass the average vampire. Aragon, as in canon, is dominant over Dora, who does his bidding. He's a bully who rules with an iron fist, and he's very well established in society both human and vampire and very high up the food chain.

Aragon's fondest hobby is stealing thralls from other vampires. He likes to assert power over his neighbors by taking their favorite toys, knowing that none of them are gutsy enough to cause a fuss over it. And if they are, he'll just crush them, or throw a bribe their way to shut them up. His favorite activity is holding "wedding feasts" in which he plays the role of the groom, and the unfortunate human the role of bride, or main course in this sense. He'll invite his peers to participate and turn the entire thing into a pretentious spectacle designed to remind everyone who's in charge. He effectively owns his own part of the world this way. There isn't a single vampire that likes Aragon at all, but a mere stolen thrall isn't worth the risk of dealing with him, even if that thrall was a favorite. Most of the vampires in the area are silently waiting for the day he finally pisses off the wrong person...

As it happens, it's been some time since Aragon's last wedding feast and he's starting to have cravings. As he looks through his list of potential options, he remembers that about four years ago, a newcomer moved into the area, and rumour has it he brought an unusual thrall with him. A very young child. Well, Aragon thinks, it's a tragedy I haven't welcomed them yet.

Danielle is playing under a tree a stone's throw from the manor. It's about ten o'clock in the morning when a blonde, cloak wearing woman approaches her with a kind smile. Little Danielle notices she has red eyes and sharp teeth, and while those traits would frighten any other child, they put her at ease. In just a few minutes, Dora is able to convince a trusting Dani to follow her-and the child does so eagerly, not noticing Dora's own reluctance.

Vlad glances out the window and when he doesn't see Dani a twinge of concern leads him to throw on a cloak and step out to look for her. Concern quickly spirals into panic. She isn't anywhere. She's gone like she never existed at all. She's not on the manor grounds, not in the village, not inside any structure in his territory. He tears the manor itself apart but no luck. Finally, he turns up on his neighbor's doorstep around noon, and Spectra is not even the least bit ruffled by Vlad's absolute calamitous meltdown, mostly because it woke her up from a very deep and restful slumber ("Good grief, dearie. It's midday. Some of us are still nocturnal, you know").

Vlad refrains from removing her head from her neck and explains the situation, to which Spectra reminds him that pets do have a tendency to run away sometimes, and no, Dani didn't somehow travel to her Auntie Spectra's house. This is not what Vlad wanted to hear. Fortunately for both of them, their healthy and respectful conversation is interrupted by the sudden appearance of a letter, one with a deep purple envelope and a wax dragon seal.

Spectra, of course, knows immediately the content of the letter and the identity of the sender, for she's been a guest at Aragon's wedding feasts before. She's not one to experience dread. Quite the contrary. Dread, especially dread belonging to others usually delights her. But that sudden invitation plus Vlad's missing pet could only mean that Count Aragon of blood-dragon fame has chosen a new bride, which certainly would upset her amusing dynamic with her neighbor. She opens the invitation while illuminating Vlad on her suspicions.

Vlad, being extremely calm and unbothered, has to be blocked from leaving while Spectra attempts to make him see reason. You cannot simply rush off to Aragon's castle and demand your human back, she explains, to which Vlad grasps her by the neck, leaning down to speak into her face, and calmly replies that as a matter of fact, he can and he will. Spectra says no, because he will lose his powers breaking in there and Aragon is too strong for most vampires even when they aren't powerless. If Vlad genuinely wants Danielle back, he'd be a fool to be so hasty. It would be much more advantageous for Vlad to attend the feast that night with Spectra as her chosen plus one, when he could enter with permission. Vlad is still furious, but he doesn't move for a moment, considering. Finally he snarls that he simply cannot wait all day to rescue her, not when she could be bitten at any moment leading up to the feast. But Spectra shakes her head because Aragon loves his traditions and rituals, and she knows Danielle would remain whole and safe from harm up until the moment she's presented to him in the banquet hall. So with great frustration, Vlad backs down and elects to wait for night to fall.

Vlad was aware of Aragon's existence before the repulsive reptile stole his daughter, but crucially, the days when Vlad would have happily made himself a problem in Aragon's circle unprompted were behind him. He was trying to live a quiet domestic life. He was trying not to look like a threat to the big fish in the pond. He wanted only to be left alone with Danielle and his little insignificant village in the middle of nowhere, safe from prying eyes or harming hands. Oh well, Vlad thinks with a grim little smirk, as he rifles through his medicine cabinet searching for a very specific item. There's nothing for it but the demonstrative approach.

They arrive at Aragon's castle at the scheduled time, make it past the servant checking invitations, and enter without trouble. Spectra leaves Vlad to his business and flits away to mingle with her peers. Privately, she's not sure what to expect from him tonight. She hopes he was serious about murdering Aragon over his silly obsession with his pet. That would easily be the most entertaining thing to ever happen at one of these tedious assemblies....if he can pull off such a feat, that is.

Aragon is seated at the head of the banquet hall's long table, and Vlad wastes no time stalking over to him. Aragon is momentarily surprised by Vlad's appearance and then quickly dismissive when he learns that he slipped in with one of the other guests. He hadn't meant for the victim of his intended slight to attend the feast, but it mattered little in the grand scheme of things. He brushes off Vlad's frosty-yet-playful opening lines and tells him he's busy and any reconciling of goods and property will have to wait until after the party. Vlad responds to this by wrenching Aragon's throne around to face him, and says that he's going to give him one very generous and undeserved chance to return Danielle immediately. I don't wait for sniveling little wyrms.

Aragon predictably laughs, genuinely amused and awed by his gall. He asks why Vlad cares so much. After all, Vlad can hardly claim she's his since it's obvious he must have kidnapped her from somewhere in the first place. Now she's simply in the clutches of a stronger figure. Then again, the child is barely more than a mouthful. Perhaps Vlad was waiting until she grew up?

Vlad shoves down the urge to kill him for another moment, because a point must be made. He's not very old, but he is very old fashioned, he tells Aragon. In fact, he's positively medieval in so many ways, a trait he's sure Aragon in particular can appreciate. It's considered polite, crucial even, to ask a bride's father if he approves of the marriage before the bride is spirited away, isn't it?

Aragon finally rises from his seat without any urgency. He starts to move away, and flippantly says Vlad can ask the girl's father himself, for all he cares. It won't affect the child's fate one iota. Now kindly find a seat and stay out of the way, or you can listen to the feast from the comfort of the moat.

Vlad snatches him by his collar, throws him onto the table, and comes very close to nailing him to it with one vicious thrust of a wooden stake--but Aragon is a serpent, and his reflexes make the average vampire's look dull. He rolls away and is on his feet again in a blink. He's genuinely startled, but chalks up this unprecedented attack to Vlad being new and ignorant. They have an audience of stunned vampires, fallen silent at the display. Dorathea watches from the sidelines, wide eyed, but she makes no attempt to intervene. Aragon and Vlad think the same thought at the same time: Excellent. I'll make an example out of this moron that will be talked about for centuries.

Aragon is very confident. His powers have transcended blood after he fed from a dragon, and he's stronger, faster, can breathe fire, and his skin is harder to puncture. There's no way Vlad can beat him in a physical altercation, he thinks. Vlad is just as confident, and also extremely pissed off. Aragon might be of draconic blood, but Vlad is smarter, better prepared, and more than anything, he's here for Danielle. Aragon could be a real dragon for all the difference it would make. He's going to kill everyone and everything that dares to harm her. And it just so happens he had on hand the exact thing he needs to beat Aragon.

Blood magic is largely a lost art. Some spells remain known and common, such as glamours, but a lot of the ancient, powerful, and unorthodox ones were forgotten or destroyed centuries ago. Dragon's Bane, similarly, is an exceedingly rare fireproof plant said to be one of the only materials that can kill the winged beasts. The odds of anyone being uniquely skilled in forgotten vampiric magic and in possession of Dragon's Bane is extremely low. But Vlad prides himself on being an odds-defying nightmare, and so he doesn't bother to get out of the way when Aragon launches a fireball right at him. When the flames clear, he's just fine--granted, his clothes are bit singed, but it worked; and Aragon looks uncertain for the first time.

Dragon's Bane is very good for the skin, Vlad says conversationally, though in truth he'd actually injected the stuff directly into his bloodstream before arriving. He's burning blood while functionally high on magic anti-dragon juice. Hope Aragon doesn't mind.

Aragon does mind, but there's nothing he can do about it but try to kill Vlad before Vlad kills him. If he's quick about it, maybe he can overwhelm him. A fight ensues. Spectra observes the tables being knocked over with a hidden grin as she sips her blood-wine and remarks to the vampires around her, "He's my plus one."

At some point, Aragon appeals to his sister for help because things aren't looking too good for him. Dora seems torn; but after years of being kicked and berated by her brother she hesitates to come to his aid. Then there's the matter of the little girl, and while Dora is no saint, she dislikes being made to lure her brother's brides to their destruction. So her eyes harden and she turns her face away, and Aragon gets no help from his sister in the end.

Vlad stabs him more times than anyone was able to count. It was a bit excessive, and most witnesses got the feeling after a certain point the violence was purely for show. When Vlad drops the remains of a splintered stake on the ground and finally directs a half-mad look in Dorathea's direction she's quick to retrieve Danielle from a side room. She's been made to sleep, but otherwise is totally unharmed. Truthfully, Dora has no idea what Vlad will do to her, or if he even knows she's the one who kidnapped Dani. But after she places the child in his arms it's obvious he couldn't care less about her. You're a sensible woman, he remarks snidely, and that's that.

It's customary in the rare event of a vampire murdering another vampire to formally claim the kill in front of witnesses, thereby assuming the right to take the victim's property and land. Vlad pointedly doesn't do this. A mere five years previously he would have in a heartbeat, but he didn't kill Aragon for his possessions, and he's perfectly satisfied with the reputation of a lunatic if it means everyone is too afraid of him to even glance in Dani's direction. Dora assumes the position of Countess after her brother's death and she and Vlad haven't spoken since.

Dani....now knows not to talk to strangers. Not long after this incident, Vlad gifts her a pendant that contains a tiny sliver of his soul, so if she's ever taken from him again, he'll be able to act with far more efficiency.

Stolen Sanguine World-Building Dump

@taptrial2 asked and ye shall receive. What follows is a mass information pit for my Vlad Cleavage AU Danny Phantom vampire AU, Stolen Sanguine. This post will just be about world-building, the storyline will be covered separately.

The time period and culture influences are deliberately vague, but it's pseudo-Victorian, pseudo-fantasy, pseudo-pre Industrial Rev with no consistent clothing styles beyond the vampires being obnoxiously slutty.

Vampires live among humans and the ones that live the longest and thrive the most are the rich and powerful, highly immoral ones. Common people who are turned and not willing to become gluttonous murderers are usually swiftly dispatched by hunters. Being turned involves intent on the part of the vampire, and venom is the agent. New vampires are not common or accidental (unless you're Danny) because in general vampires like the status quo and creating more competition for territory isn't in anyone's best interest. Vampire on vampire murders aren't common for the same reasons. Vlad, however, is an insane little freak and has killed his own kind before. To drastically paraphrase one notable instance is Aragon, who once decided he'd pick on the new guy in town by kidnapping his four year old and turning her into his vampire bride. Vlad stabbed Aragon about three dozen times, recovered Dani safe and sound, and no one has bothered them since.

Society is entering an era where the general populace at large is becoming more collectively aware of the existence of vampires and other paranormal folk and it's more difficult to work in the shadows than it used to be. Hunters are becoming more mainstream, and while vampires have always placed emphasis on securing wealth and power, it's now more critical to have those societal protections in place.

Generally speaking, vampires are almost exclusively loners and not social with each other. This is mostly because every vampire believes that other vampires are insufferable, and they are the singular delightful exception. Penelope Spectra, Vlad's neighbor and ally, is an outlier, as she is very social for a vampire and often holds parties. She herself lives with Bertrand, whom she turned some years ago.

The vampiric power system revolves around blood. By consuming human blood, vampires regularly renew their immortality and their enhanced strength and healing. Vampiric blood itself is also endowed with certain powers, as it remains tied to the soul of the vampire even after it leaves their body. There's a culture of blood jewelry given as gifts to favorite thralls as a mark of ownership.

To say vampires merely consume blood is to ignore the whole reality. It's not just the blood, it's what the blood contains, that is, the vitality or life of the individual. Every time a vampire feeds off of someone they consume a bit of that person's life and soul. It's an active parasitic relationship that brings only misery to the consumed. Animal blood will keep a vampire alive, but it won't grant them the powers they rely on and it won't fully satisfy their hunger. Danny is doing his best, but he's basically starving himself.

A human that a vampire frequently feeds on turns into a thrall. Thralls are sickly, clingy and basically brainwashed into being willing juice boxes. You don't want to become one. Some vampires will keep them in their houses because it's very convenient. Vlad has his blood supply imported, because he's got a daughter to think of.

Vampiric weaknesses include sunlight, which burns them, and the need to be invited into dwellings or suffer the loss of their powers. There are ways to circumvent both weaknesses, however, and Vlad has found ways around both during his years of experimentation. The only way to kill a vampire is to destroy their heart, so the classic wooden stake is the weapon of choice for hunters. Jack and Maddie are particularly creative with their weaponry, though.

The GIW exist here, as a sort of white-tunic wearing anti-vampire cult/organization. Their designs are pending further thought, because white robes and hoods have some unfortunate connotations I'd prefer to avoid.

Werewolves and dragons exist here, but they're mostly mentioned in passing and also because I think it would be amusing if Danielle tried to date a werewolf prince while Vlad makes semi-serious plans to turn the poor boy into a rug if the relationship goes awry.

There is a Vampire King, but he's been sealed away in eternal slumber because he's more trouble than he's worth. Vampires will go through long periods of sleep every so often if things are going poorly for them, and it usually involves a coffin and a hidden crypt. They are of course, nocturnal beings, but they don't have to sleep as much as humans and Vlad is committed to raising Danielle diurnally. This causes some problems for him, but he's extremely stubborn and refuses to let the sun get between him and his daughter.

Other vampires consider Vlad to be completely out of his mind after the unfortunate Aragon incident. It's not normal to adopt your lunch. Spectra thinks Vlad's obvious mental illness is very attractive and she likes watching him kill people.

Vlad lived in a proper spooky castle before acquiring Danielle, but after he fled Jack and Maddie he moved extremely far away and settled into a smaller but no less creepy manor outside of a small rural village. Danielle is by no means forbidden from visiting the village and Vlad encourages the townsfolk to allow their children to befriend/suck up to her on a regular basis. Sometimes this involves blatant extortion, such as the time Vlad forcibly invited (kidnapped) a select handful of children and their trembling mothers to attend Danielle's birthday party.

Vlad likes to gaslight the people living in the village outside of his manor. They're all 95% sure he's a vampire, because he certainly couldn't look or act any more like one, but Vlad vehemently denies it. Danielle is accustomed to doing the same, and in reality she is actually the most compelling evidence that Vlad ISN'T a vampire. Because what vampire has a happy, healthy, bite-wound free child in their care?

[necromancy-inc]

Vel'nath doodle

[cherllyio]

How Macaque died (Season 5 spoilers)

@rika1991tr tagged me, and asked what it tells us about Macaque's death/ him and Wukong's fight.

So- this is for you :D

and...

*cracks knunckles*

OH BOY

To get to the bottom of this, we have to understand one thing:

Wukong and Macaque never stopped caring for eachother. Beheind all that hate in the first three seasons, they still cared for eachother (none of them dares to show it though)

Just look at how Macaque reaches out for Wukong- (godamnit)

So... what was that "something" Wukong was going to do, that he was warning Macaque about?

Well... Wukong was going to do THIS to Macaque:

Because as my dear friend @lu-zijing (they talked about it here) mentioned to me, there is chains here in Macaque death scene:

And not only that, thoughs chains look A LOT like the chains Tripitaka and Wukong put on LBD:

SO IN OTHER WORDS:

MK AND WUKONGS FIGHT ARE A PARALELL TO MACAQUE AND WUKONG'S FIGHT.

AND ALSO THIS LINE?

Nine headed demon: How did you know that spell? Who did you make a deal with?

Macaque: What deal?

So clearly Macaque has a power, tha he got from someone else, that he CANT control.

And what do we see here in this scene?

The chains broken (again thanks to Lu-Zijing for mentioning that to me), but the shadowpowers OUT OF CONTROL.

In other words: I higely doubt Wukong acutally killed Macaque.

Yes, they got into a fight, but Wukong just wanted to trap Macaque in chains, so he could talk him out of this fight (instead of fighting who used to be his closest compainion).

But... something went wrong. Because right after that line we saw this:

Meaning that Wukong (acdently), destroyed Macaques eye, causing Macaque to PANIC, resulting in Macaque over-using his shadowpowers and then...

...

And one last thing, I would like to point out-

In that same scene Macaque was laughing, and an pretty evil laugh at that.

Almost like... his shadow powers had "taken over".

So lets do the math, yea?

Super unstable shadowpowers + super unstable monkey + the only friend he has ever had "leaving" him =

Ha ha- not to mention Wukong isnt even wearing a circlet here, meaning it didnt even take place in JTTW-!! but thats another can of worms, I will talk about another day-

(lol, did you know I acutally somehow foresaw this in a fanfic-)

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fan fic Idea: Danny Fenton's Ex

Danny wants to know that he did not go looking for a fight. He merely wanted to have some of the best hot dogs this side of the USA, in Tucker's words. The human world had changed a lot across differnt timelines but his best friend had assure him, this one was particually tasty.

He planned to pop in, hunt down the street cart filled with buns and meat, then pop out of Gotham. He was meant to visit for less than an hour at most.

He just happened to be at the wrong place and time. It really wasn't his fault! Danny had been minding his own business, using a paper map on the edge of a tall building (his phone had broken in the last ghost fight. Not that it would do any good since it wasn't connected to any living towers), squinting at the streets below, hoping to figure out where he was. The next thing he knew, an angry child leaped out at him with a sword.

Of course, he defended himself! The kid was doing some insane slashes in the air, and Danny had fought enough samurai ghosts to know not to underestimate how powerful a katana indeed was. He had been able to beat the child, encasing his arms in ecto-chains, after a full half hour of combat.

Danny had been dead tired- pun not intended- but just as he thought he was done, a second child had leaped out at him. This one carrying a bo-staff. It took another thirty minutes to beat this one, and just as he was gearing up for a lecture, a third child appeared.

She was wearing all purple and seemed to favor strong kicks. Danny had the bruise to prove it, but just as he could take her down—and stop the other two from escaping since they were attempting to do so—he was attacked by an actual shadow and her red bucket-head friend.

Now, those two were difficult to beat, especially when it was two vs. one. Shadow reacted as if she could predict all of his moves before he even made them, while Bucket Head made incredible shots with his guns covering her attacks.

Danny had already been expelled from his other two fights, so it was a miracle he was able to trick Shadow by allowing more of Phantom to bleed into his fighting style. She couldn't predict the dead!

He ended up on a roof with five children- okay, more like a child, two teenagers, and what could be the early twenties, but they were all young to him. Each was tied up securely with some of his own ecto-chains and glaring- he could feel the hate in their eyes even behind their masks- trying desperately to catch his breath.

"Oh boy, I'm not as young as I used to be. " He gasps between huffs. Maybe Sam was on to something when she lectured them for not having enough greens, normal exercise routines, or even taking vitamins. They really weren't teenagers anymore. "Ugh, I think I pulled something. I need to lie down..."

Just as Danny is allowing himself to slide to the floor, two more shadows jump at him. This time he's far too tired to dodge, and the blue one manages to land a drop kick to his chin. The force has Danny spinning in place, losing his balance, and slamming hard against the roof.

The tied-up children cheer, and if he wasn't a walking bruise right now, Danny would be half tempted to show them all a round two.

"Great Gatsby!" He cries out of reflex, rolling onto his back, ready to take a swing-

"Danny?" a new familiar voice cuts in. The sound is something Danny will never forget, even after all the years they have been apart. He used to fall asleep to that voice, muttering into his hair and warm arms wrapped around him, making promises never kept.

Danny whips his head around to see a man in a bat costume. He squits, studying the strong curve of a very familiar jaw and his voice-

"Wayne?" He blinks. Those lips- so familiar and different all in one- curve into a surprise, but please smile. Yes, that is definitely Bruce.

"Danny, I haven't seen you since-"

"You broke up with me through a letter on the hotel note-pad? A note-pad that I had to pay for since you touched it!?" Danny hisses, suddenly energized with pure, unadulterated rage. The man freezes.

"I, uh, see you're still upset about that." Wayne winces, shuffling on his feet- Bruce Wayne, the little human he found wandering the Infinite Realms, rescued, helped, trained, and had become human again to have the man dump him to "find himself."

Danny knew he found a lot of ladies on his self-discovery trip. He never forgave him. It has been embarrassing to have to return to the Realms to his friends' knowing eyes and his sister's sad shrug.

You knew a human could never understand or live with beings like us. We aren't like them anymore. She had told him. It was bond to end in disaster.

"What is happening?" The bow-staff kid asks

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Blue tells him.

Danny ignores them to glare at the man. "What the hell are you doing here, Wayne?"

Wayne frowns. "You used to call me Bruce."

"I used to do a lot of things, Wayne." Danny stands, gesturing to the group of people he has captured. "Can you kindly disappear again? I'm in the middle of something."

The man makes no move to leave. Instead, he tilts his head. "Those are my children."

"Of course they are." Danny rolls his eyes. "Tell them to not attack innocent tourists-"

"Are you here on vacation? Would you like me to give you a tour?"

The familiar words- the ones from their first date- make rage boil in his core. "Oh, go burn in the worst levels of hell!"

He doesn't stick around for a reply, twisting in a tight circle and ripping a hole into the Realms. He ignores Wayne's call of his name; it's too late- fifteen years too late- and shifts back into Phantom.

He prays he never sees that deadbeat again. Or the family his wife gave him. Not that Danny cares; it's been years, and he could care less what Bruce Wayne and his stupid kin got up to.

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

"Bruce, I say this with all my heart, what the fuck was that?"

"That was the one I let get away."

There is a moment of silence before Damian speaks up. "I demand to be taken out of my misery. Mercy, kill me now, Drake."

[draconic-desire]

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

[innerfare]

Sex Toys - Part 1

Summary: What are their opinions on and how do they use sex toys? Mostly just them using vibrators on afab!reader, mentions of a few other toys. 

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // lots of toys

——— 

Luffy: Finds your vibrator while rooting through your things one day (privacy, what’s that?), has no idea what it is until you sheepishly explain it to him. Laughs hysterically, is so excited, immediately wants to use it on you. He’s pulling your panties off before you’ve even gotten over the embarrassment of him finding it; you won’t even make it to the bed, he’ll just pull you onto the floor and have at it (a common occurrence with this man). His new favorite thing is to tongue fuck you with a vibrator against your clit. He’s open to butt plugs and nipple clamps, but they’re not really his thing. Doesn’t like you using toys on him, though, claims a cock ring makes him feel like he’s wearing clothes (and Luffy hates wearing clothes). 

Zoro: Initially opposed to the idea of toys, doesn’t really understand the point when you have two perfectly good hands. He doesn’t even really like the idea of you using a vibrator on your own (“What, do I not get you off enough?”). He eventually warms up to it, especially once he realizes he can have you hold it to your clit while you ride him or while he fucks you from behind. Ends up having so much fun with this. Always uses a vibrator on your clit if he puts his cock up your ass. Gets pretty into butt plugs, really enjoys seeing the girly pink one that’s shaped like a heart inside your ass while he fucks you from behind. If you propose nipple clamps, he'll happily pull on the chain between.

Sanji: Low key the sort of man to get jealous of a sex toy. That being said, he really enjoys watching you masturbate, and when you tease him with the idea of using a vibrator on yourself while he watches, he can’t get it out of his head and finally decides he just has to see for himself. Far too gentle of a lover to use any sort of paddles or clamps on you, and absolutely despises the idea of you using a dildo, though he wouldn’t be opposed to some handcuffs, granted they’re fur-lined if you’re going to be the one wearing them. You might be able to convince him to try out a cock ring, but only if you’re sure to inform him it will bring you pleasure, too. 

Ace: He’s such a pleaser (service dom, 100%) and he worries deeply that you’ll get satisfaction elsewhere while the two of you are parted, so he buys you a very discreet vibrator necklace to wear. That way, you’ll never have to find another man in his stead (it doesn’t matter how many times you tell him it’s not necessary, he’s convinced he has to make you cum three times a day to keep you nice and satisfied, and if he’s not there to do it, he’ll make damn sure you have the tools to do it in his name). Expects you to tell him all about it when he gets back. This eventually turns into him watching you use it on yourself, and then you showing him exactly how you do it so he can take over. He won’t tease you with it, but he does fully expect you to say please and thank you.

Sabo: He’s a kinky little fucker, that’s for sure, and he has a little bit of a sadistic side. His absolute favorite toy is a remote control vibrator. He feels like God himself when he ramps the power up and watches you nearly crumple on the other side of the room, some members of the Army asking if you’re alright while Koala shoots him suspicious glances. Even when you’re alone, he is going to tease the fuck out of you, edging you so many times you threaten to break up with him if he doesn’t just let you cum already; naturally, bondage goes hand in hand with this. He also has a special paddle to spank you (though he does prefer his hand) and handcuffs, which he’ll happily allow you to use on him so long as you promise to suck his cock. Won’t turn down a vibrating cock ring. 

Law: He actually starts out pretty vanilla, but gets progressively kinkier throughout your relationship, meaning the slow introduction of more and more toys. What starts as the two of you sharing stolen glances in the hallway turns into you making out in the lab and ends in you tied up on your stomach while Law holds a vibrating wand to your clit. He’s also such a spanker. You two basically never have sex without him spanking you at least once. Law has most definitely used his belt on you before. Likes a butt plug on occasion but not too into it, also enjoys metal handcuffs but will not submit to being the one in them. Also, he thought he would enjoy gagging you, but the first time he did, he quickly realized the only thing worse than you arguing with him during sex is you not arguing (brats, hit Law up).

Kid: Puts metal bracelets/anklets on you, uses his devil fruit ability to hold your limbs wherever he wants them, has most definitely used this to practice the range of his devil fruit ability by leaving you bound and naked somewhere on the ship and seeing how far away he can get with the metal remaining magnetized. When he uses a vibrator on you, it's a wand- none of that little bullet shit. Anytime he doesn’t have your nipples between his teeth, he has them in nipple clamps for sure. Definitely the type to put a collar on you if you’re willing, would prefer something that could pass as a choker necklace so you can wear it in public; would really like one with a bell. Literally down for any type of toy. But he does have times when he wants no toys at all, just the two of you, skin to skin. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[changbunnies]

Suit Dance (18+)

♡ Pairing: CEO!Changbin x Office Siren!Reader

♡ Genre: office au, smut, porn with some plot, rich & sexy ceo trope but make him Subby™

♡ Word Count: 7.8k

♡ Summary: In which you discover that your ever strong and stoic looking boss wears dainty, pretty lingerie underneath his tailored suits.

♡ Warnings: hyunjin featured briefly as reader's office bestie, mild play fighting and 1 joke about strangling him

♡ Smut Warnings: uneven power dynamics (due to boss x employee relationship), power play, dom/sub dynamics, sub!bin, dom!reader, vaguely plus size reader, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism, marking (with lipstick), mommy kink, nipple play, anal plug use, referenced masturbation, spit kink, praise kink, finger sucking, fingering (m rec), tiny bit of oral (m rec) and handjob, spit as lube, teensy tiny bit of edging. this is so unrealistic lmao but it's fiction so. just take it for what it is gdfsgdf

♡ Notes: back at it again with a self indulgent bin fic! written purely because i saw these pics on twitter and was immediately struck with the vision of changbin wearing it instead lmao and while i read a lot of fics involving anal play, this is my first foray into writing it myself so sorry if it isn't the best :')

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Throwing your hands up and over your head, you let out a soft noise of relief as you stretch, eager to return home and relax after a stressful week at the office.

Your manager has been on your ass the entire week about making sure your quarterly finance report is without flaw. “Mr. Seo has business ventures lined up that require an accurate reflection of the company’s spending and receiving of funds,” she repeatedly drilled into you– as if that isn’t always the case.

You don’t know what all goes into striking a deal and fostering a successful business partnership, really– you’re just paid to reflect the numbers, so that’s what you do; and you’ve never submitted a flawed report. Still, while you’re used enough to staring at numbers on a screen and inputting them into a balance sheet, scanning them extra carefully all week has really put a strain on your eyes.

You remove your glasses, toss them next to your keyboard and close your eyes as another sigh passes your lips. You slouch in your chair, rolling away from your desk ever so slightly as your legs stretch out. You can’t wait to sink into a bath once you get back to your apartment, maybe have a glass of wine to unwind while watching some trashy reality tv over dinner.

“Uh– Y/N?” a voice calls, and you shoot up in your seat, stiffening your posture– you relax when your brain finishes registering that it’s just Hyunjin. If it was your manager, Mrs. Kim, she surely would’ve ripped you a new one for slouching at work, the strict harpy that she is. 

“Hey, sorry! Were you waiting up for me?” you ask as you scoot back over to your desk and grab your glasses to put back on. Hyunjin was one of the few coworkers you got along with beyond the expected professional level, so the two of you often chatted on your way out of the building. He was also Mr. Seo’s personal receptionist, and you envied that he got to stare at such perfection all day.

Mr. Seo is hot– really hot. All professionalism and sex appeal, with his perfectly styled dark hair and expertly tailored suits hugging his thick arms. You don’t cross paths with him as often as you'd like, stuck to your cubicle as you are, but God, the glimpse you got of him this morning was divine.

Dressed in a dark blue suit you were certain was designer, a circular silver pin stuck in the left lapel– the company’s logo, which he always wore proudly. He had on two chains– one a pretty, mixed gold-silver resting on his collarbones, probably worth more than you make in an entire year. His other chain is pure silver and long, hung low on his chest, ending just above the first button of his stupidly beautiful suit. 

There’s no button-up or other such dress shirt worn underneath the suit– just purely bare, tanned skin. The small glimpses you got of his bare chest nearly made you drool– and when he rounded the corner to get to his office, and you got a glimpse of his tight slacks hugging his thick thighs and ass, Christ, you don’t know how you managed to keep yourself together.

You loved looking at Mr. Seo, but it was probably best for your sanity, and your work performance, that you didn’t have too much exposure to him. And it was most certainly a good thing that you weren’t his receptionist– you don’t think you’d get through the myriad of phone answering and appointment scheduling successfully if you had such eye candy in front of you for hours a day, 5 days a week.

“No, I’m just supposed to tell you that Mr. Seo wants to see you,” Hyunjin says, and you blink– once, twice, brain struggling to process what you’ve been told. Mr. Seo wants to see you? You think you’re going to combust on the spot from just the thought alone of having a personal meeting with him.

“D-Do you know why?” you question with an embarrassing stutter that you hope Hyunjin will ignore. “Nope, he just asked me to let you know to see him before I leave for the weekend,” he replies and you swallow, nerves suddenly threatening to eat you alive.

And it's not just because you’ll be alone with someone you’ve been thirsting after for months. The most pressing issue is that even putting your attraction to Mr. Seo aside, he is still very much your boss, even if he doesn't often personally oversee your work.

You emailed him your report just moments ago, so surely he hasn’t had the chance to look through the whole thing yet.. Fuck, what if there’s a mistake right at the start? You’d be mortified– and surely it’d be grounds enough to fire you given how vital this report is to his upcoming business plans. 

Hyunjin sees the apprehension and can’t help but giggle as he reassures you. “Relax! He seemed like he was in a good mood, I’m sure it’s nothing bad. Trust me, I’ve seen Mr. Seo angry, and he’s definitely not right now. Maybe you’re finally getting that raise you’ve been gunning for.”

You appreciate Hyunjin’s positive input, but you doubt that– if it was a raise, you’d be having a discussion about it with HR and your manager, as you have every time before; someone as high brass as Mr. Seo simply doesn’t have the time to talk to every person receiving a raise individually. A promotion..? Same situation– the decision for you to receive one is his, but you doubted he would see you personally over it.

That’s what your manager is for, after all– Mrs. Kim is essentially his mouthpiece, having discussions about these things with you and overseeing your duties herself so that Mr. Seo can put more of his focus on keeping the business going in the direction he wants. Still, Hyunjin said he doesn’t seem to be upset, so.. 

Maybe it is something good! Maybe your manager and the head of HR have been called to his office too, and you’ll all discuss an appropriate reward for all the effort you’ve been putting in. Maybe you can squeeze in a deal for more vacation time too, if you’re lucky. 

"Or maybe he found out about all your dirty fantasies about him, and now he's calling you to his office to–” Hyunjin starts, and you bolt up from your chair, swiftly shutting him up with a smack to the arm. “Oh my god, stop! Shut up!” you cry as he simply laughs, swatting away the hand you slap him with.

“Should I still wait for you?” he asks when the giggling subsides, and you quickly shake your head as you turn back to your desk to start shoveling your belongings in your bag. “Nah, I don’t wanna keep you waiting if the talk goes on long. I’ll see you on Monday! ..hopefully,” you mutter the last word as you pick up your bag, still not entirely sold that this abrupt meeting is a positive one.

Hyunjin, being a menace to your nerves, shoots you a wink and a “good luck!” after you wish him a good weekend. You think you’ll strangle him when you see him on Monday– if you’re still lucky enough to have a job here, that is. You walk out of your cubicle block, swallowing as you step past your fellow coworkers who are all similarly readying to leave, and up to Mr. Seo’s large office door.

It’s glass, and typically he’d be able to see you apprehensively standing there waiting, but the blinds are currently pulled closed. Should you knock? He’s expecting you, but all of a sudden you aren’t sure how to act– the last thing you want to do is be impolite. Still, maybe it’d be worse to keep him waiting– his time is extremely valuable, after all. So tentatively, you knock on the black frame of the door.

“Come in,” you hear him call out, and with one more breath to steel your nerves, you take the knob into your hands and open the door. And fuck, he’s alone– your manager and the head of HR are nowhere in sight. You’re going to have a solo meeting with Mr. Seo. God, please help me, you cry internally as you take a careful step inside, the door closing behind you with a soft click. 

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” you do your best to keep your voice steady as you look at him, pensively standing no more than a few inches away from the door. You’ve never been more nervous in your entire life– and when he looks up from the papers on his desk to address you, your heart nearly stops; he’s just too gorgeous.

“Don’t just stay by the door, please, come in,” he reiterates, motioning for you to come further into the room and take a seat at his desk with his hand. Again you swallow, taking small steps away from the glass door, your heels clacking on the sleek wood with each step.

His office is so luxurious– and you’re certain it’s bigger than your entire apartment. Floor to ceiling windows that take up the entire wall behind him and show the impressive expanse of the city, the sky turning a darker shade of blue as the sun disappears behind the other skyscrapers. Impressive bookshelves full top to bottom, with not just books but awards he's won throughout his life, as well as decorative art pieces.

He has well cared for plants in every corner, two sofas for additional seating, and a chandelier that rivals any you’ve ever seen in its extravagance. There’s a large rug underneath his desk and the opposite chairs, and your heels quiet as you step on it, carefully pulling one of the chairs back to sit.

It’s comfortable, the same shade of rich mahogany as his desk, and you practically sink into it. Despite that, you do your best to keep a good posture after setting your bag on the opposite chair; sitting up straight, hands folded in your lap as you cross one leg over the other.

Your skirt squeezes against your thighs in this position, but you’d rather be caught dead than have an informal posture in front of the CEO of your company. He’s looking at his papers again, and heat, as well as apprehension, spreads through your body when he looks up at you once more– but mostly, it’s heat; how and why is he so attractive? 

You’re so rarely given the opportunity to be this close to Mr. Seo– and there’s still a large desk between you that gives you a fair amount of distance, but you’re able to drink him in much more than you usually can. His eyes, that normally appear quite piercing and stern, are always much softer up close– all of his features are soft, really. 

Round cheeks, soft nose, defined chin that somehow isn’t harsh in appearance despite how sculpted he is. His lips are so pink, look so soft and plush, in the prettiest pouty shape. Cute, handsome, pretty, sexy– he’s all of it in one package. You want him bad.

Mr. Seo has expensive-looking round earrings on that you realize you failed to notice earlier, perfectly matching his necklaces. A ring too, you note as he turns back to his papers to flip a page– gem black as his hair, but with the same silver as the rest of his jewelry encircling it. He’s so stylish– it’s almost enough to make you salivate with desire.

It’s almost astonishing how you can still thirst for him while this concerned over your livelihood– but he’s so undeniably handsome and perfect that you just can’t seem to help it. If this ends up being your last day here, you don’t think it’s the money you’ll miss the most– it’ll most definitely be seeing Mr. Seo in all his impressive glory.

Finally, he holds out the tiny, stapled stack of papers in his hand to you, gesturing for you to take them to look at. “Mrs. Kim went over this with you, correct? You recognize it?” he asks, watching you carefully as you run your eyes over the top page. “This is my review from last quarter..?” you say, an air of uncertainty in your voice. Fuck. You really are getting fired. 

“Did I make a mistake since then? Do something wrong?” you question, doing your best not to fall into your anxious habit of chewing on your bottom lip. It’s also taking everything in you not to start unloading a string of apologies over the finance report you emailed him, convinced by this point that you suffered a major performance dip and sent him a report chock full of mistakes. 

Even at his angriest, Mr. Seo never grilled or chewed out his employees– but you almost think the look of sincere disappointment he’d give you before firing you would be worse than the anger. “No, don't worry! The opposite, actually,” he reassures you, so sweetly and genuinely that it sends you reeling.

The relief that should come with realizing you aren't being fired or scolded doesn't even hit you, because all your brain latches on to is how beautiful his smile is. Negative or positive, you come to the conclusion that this will be the most difficult meeting of your life– he’s just too stunning; your poor heart can’t take it.

“I realized that a mistake was made in regards to your raise– you actually should’ve been given more. It is not my intent to undercut the value of my employees, and I sincerely apologize for the error,” Mr. Seo stands to bow to you, and the axis of your world tilts further off balance. Mr. Seo, the most successful man you’ve ever known, whose net worth is easily millions upon millions of won, is bowing to you? 

“Your work is always done diligently and accurately, and it keeps my business going smoothly– and to make up for the error, I’d also like to offer you a bonus on top of immediately rectifying your salary. A sum that is equal to what you would’ve received these past few months had your raise been accurately relayed and processed sooner.” 

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. It’s true that you were upset when your raise was only a few measly cents, but you assumed that was intentional, that you just needed to work harder– and surely, the mistake isn’t Mr. Seo’s fault. If anything, it’s definitely your harpy of a manager Mrs. Kim's doing– she should be the one groveling at your feet. The fact that he’s even apologizing to you for it is insane. In what world does it make sense for him to grovel to and appease you? 

You suppose it isn’t just his business smarts that make him such a good CEO, but his ability to take responsibility like this, and his genuine care for the members of his team. But that’s not even what’s at the forefront of your mind anymore– what has really captured your focus is the glimpse of pretty, white lace you see peeking out under his suit, deliciously hugging his pecs.

Surely this isn’t real– you must’ve fallen asleep at your desk, and are having a fever dream from the stress of the week. Surely Mr. Seo isn’t actually wearing lingerie underneath his suit, right? That would be crazy– not even in your wildest fantasies would you ever be met with such a sinfully delectable sight.

He doesn’t smooth out or adjust his suit nearly enough when he rises back up, and the edges of the intricate lace continue to peek out from behind his lapels. Your eyes stay transfixed on it, the urge to drool over Mr. Seo the strongest it’s ever been as every subsequent word he says goes straight through one ear and out the other. 

You lick over your drying lips, swallow thickly, unable to focus on anything but the entrancing visage of pure white lace squeezing his muscles. Your body was already running hot just from being in his presence, but now it feels like a furnace, mind racing as you consider how much more lace there is beneath his suit. 

How much skin does it cover? How little? And maybe if you were paying more attention to literally any part of him besides the lace on his pecs, you would’ve noticed the shiver that traveled through his body after he stood back up right, or the slight flush to his cheeks. 

He thinks you did notice from the way you stare at him, but then he realizes your gaze is focused solely on one specific place– his chest. Even without glancing down at himself, he realizes what caught your attention– it causes his cheeks to flush a deeper pink, an awkward cough leaving him as he finally rights his suit, and obscures the lace beneath it.

Lace out of sight, your trance is broken, and your eyes return to Mr. Seo’s face. You’ve never, absolutely never, seen him so red and timid. “Uh, I–” he starts, but for perhaps the first time in his professional life, he is left at an utter loss for words. “J-Just– pretend you didn’t see that, please,” he quickly mumbles a moment later as he returns to sitting in his chair, hoping you once again fail to notice the way he shivers when he’s sat. 

You’re both professionals– surely you can move on from this and go on as if nothing happened without making things around the office awkward. No, you think immediately– you know you’ll never be able to scrub the delectable image of lace over his toned, honeyed skin out of your brain; it’s already rooted itself much too deeply. 

Except when you watch his eyes widen before his brows furrow, you realize you accidentally said “no” audibly. “..No?” he questions, and you already know you’ve dug yourself into a hole; but you can’t take it back now that it’s been said, so you may as well commit. “I mean– it was very pretty, Sir. You’re very pretty. I don’t think I can forget about it.” 

He blinks, blush slowly crawling its way to his ears as the information soaks in. And though it’s certainly grounds for a swift and stern dismissal in ordinary circumstances, he entertains the compliment, workplace code of conduct be damned. “You think I’m pretty?” he questions, and it almost makes you laugh. Is water wet? Is the sky blue? Is grass green? Yes, he’s pretty!

“With all due respect, I thought that was obvious, Sir,” you answer, surprising even yourself with how forward a statement it is– never in a million years did you think you’d admit how attractive you think Mr. Seo is to his face. “Obvious that I’m pretty, or obvious that you think so?” he tilts his head as he asks, and smiles– one that is as shy as it is devastatingly charming. 

To see him smile at you in such a way sends a whirlwind of emotions through you, the most potent of them being desire. There’s an eager glint in his eyes, one that you’re sure you match– maybe even surpass. You’re self aware enough to realize your ogling of him when he walks in a room is noticeable– it wouldn’t surprise you if he’d been aware of it all this time.

And maybe, just maybe, he too has been waiting for an opportunity like this to present itself. Maybe he likes the way you stare at him with pure, unfiltered want. Maybe the tight blouses and skirts you wear make him crazy, always hugging your curves just right. Maybe his skin runs hot when he sees red lipstick stains lingering behind on your coffee mug, imagining that same mark covering every inch of his body.

He shouldn’t feel this way, he knows, he’s your boss for God’s sake– but he’s also only human; and he can’t keep resisting the call of you, the veritable siren in his office. How many more of those dark gazes of lust behind your thick, rectangular glasses is he supposed to be able to take? How many more times is he supposed to pretend he doesn’t notice the way you bite your lip as you look him over? 

Truthfully, it was an accident that you saw the lace decorating him beneath his suit– but he can’t find it within himself to complain about it. Unintentional though it certainly was, he finds himself eager to take this opportunity to pursue you. Reason and responsibility lost, he follows his deepest, most base desires– he wants to indulge your hunger for him, wants to let you consume him, body and soul. 

“Can’t both be true?” you ask as you toss the report he handed you aside and inch yourself closer to the desk, all sense of timidity within you evaporating now that he’s entertaining your blatant desire for him. “I think you’re well aware you’re pretty. I think you know you make everyone crazy,” you rest your elbows on the desk, leaning forward as you speak, “I think you know everyone wants you.”

You offer Mr. Seo your prettiest grin as you watch him swallow, his eyes traveling down to your blouse, where the top most buttons lie undone and offer him an enticing view of your cleavage. “A-And you– you want me?” he asks, slowly directing his gaze back up to your eyes; a question that is perhaps silly at this point, but that he wants the verbal confirmation of regardless.

“May I be forward, Sir?” you ask, gauging how deep his interest in you really runs, how honest you’re truly allowed to be about your desire. Your smile grows when he utters a rather meek yet eager “yes” in response. “I’ve always wanted you, from the very first moment I saw you,” you tell him candidly, “I want to kiss you, I want to touch you, and I want to see what other pretty things you have underneath your suit.”

“I-I see,” he says shakily, very nearly squirming in his seat from how intently you stare at him, the burning desire you have for him palpable. The tension is strong, and now it’s up to him to release it– with just a word, the dam holding you both back will break, the fervorous flood of lust all consuming; and despite how much he shouldn’t, it’s all he wants. 

“Kiss me, please,” his plea comes out in an airy lilt; conceding to his desires, he surrenders all of himself to the irresistible temptation. You rise from your chair, round the desk to approach him, and he watches in breathless anticipation. The few steps it takes to reach him feel so impossibly slow, and his heart feels like it’s thundering in his chest; he can even feel the sweat building on his brow as he waits for you to finally touch him after all this time. 

Placing your hand on the top of his chair, you push it, making him swivel to face you. His breath catches in his throat as he stares up at you, eyes swimming with need. Your fingertips just barely brush over the bit of bare chest peeking through the v-line of his lapels, but it’s enough to send goosebumps over his heated skin.

You hook your finger into his long, silver chain, tug on it just enough to urge him to lean up to meet you. He shivers as he shifts in his seat, has to suppress the whine that threatens to rise from his throat when your lips just barely touch his, a phantom of a feeling left behind. And make no mistake, you want him bad– but you don’t want to rush; you’ve wanted this for too long to do anything but relish in having him in your grasp.

When you return to him, you press your lips to the corner of his mouth instead of kissing him directly, leaving the prettiest trace of lipstick behind. And even despite the ardency he feels to have you, he makes no move to hurry you along; because when you finally kiss him, full and deep, it makes all the build up worth it– it’s true bliss, countless butterflies dancing in his stomach.

And truly, you intended to keep kissing him slowly– but now that you’ve felt his perfectly soft and full lips against your own, your restraint begins to evaporate. You wanted to take your time, to indulge in the sensation– but when you lick over his lips, and he eagerly allows you entrance into his mouth, you get the impression that he can’t hold himself back from his desires either. 

The kisses quickly grow messy, your hands urgently popping open the buttons of his suit. You’re trying to be careful to not rip the buttons off, knowing very well how expensive his clothes must be– but even if you did completely ruin it, he wouldn’t have found it within himself to care. He can buy a new suit, doesn’t give a shit about how much it’d cost– your lips and hands on him are far more important.

Buttons successfully undone, you push the suit off his shoulders, and he quickly pulls his arms out of the sleeves, freeing himself from the fabric. You pull away from the kiss, bring your hand to his face, trace your thumb over your lipstick lingering on his lips and further smear it over his skin. It’s a dark red, pretty mess, starkly contrasting the dainty elegance of white lace hugging his body below.

“You’re beautiful, Mr. Seo,” you breathe, utterly mesmerized by the sight of him. You trace your fingers over the scalloped edges of the lace on his chest, follow it down until it stops just above his stomach. It covers his arms as well, up to the edges of his deltoids. The bulk of muscle beneath looks so tantalizing– it’s positively mouth watering.

“Changbin,” he speaks up, and you look at him curiously, a slight smile playing on your lips. Of course, you know it's his name– it’d be astonishing if you didn’t know your boss’ full name; you’re just pleasantly surprised he wants to drop the formalities. “Call me Changbin, please– o-or Bin, or Binnie! I– I’d like that more.”

“Of course, Binnie,” you smile sweetly as you call his name, and though it’s such a simple indulgence, it makes his cock throb in his slacks. You can see it, hard and straining against the tight fabric– you’re positive it’s uncomfortable, thick as he seems to be. You run your fingers over his belt, tracing the buckle. He watches with labored breaths, trying not to squirm in his seat from the anticipation.

“What’s my name?” you suddenly ask him, and he says it in a question, brows slightly furrowing– do you think he doesn’t remember it? He pouts as he waits for you to speak again, and you giggle ever so slightly before you do. “Mhm, but what do you want it to be?” you ask and oh, fuck– you’re asking what title he wants to call you by, he realizes.

“A-Ahh, uhm–” Changbin hesitates, swallows the lump in his throat, face burning as you look him over expectantly. Fuck, everything about this situation is so unreal– but if he’s already come this far with you, why shouldn’t he allow himself further indulgences? Why not give in to what his deepest desires are?

“M-Mommy, you’re– you’re my mommy,” he finally forces the words out, face and ears positively on fire as he waits for your reaction. Oh, that’s what he likes? Your smile grows, and you sweetly caress his face, enjoying the feeling of heat radiating off his cheeks.

“Binnie needs his mommy to take care of him, doesn’t he?” your question makes him whine, nodding his head in a shameless, eager display. He’s so unbearably hot, his erection strains against his tight pants, his skin tingles as you trail your hand back down to his chest– he wants and wants and wants. Touch him everywhere, kiss him everywhere, talk to him sweetly as you go– he needs it.

Very little lipstick remains on your lips after all the kissing you’ve done, but the last traces of it end up on his neck, trailing downwards as you kiss and lick every inch of skin you come in contact with. You run your hands over his torso, squeezing him from the bulk of his arms to the soft edges of his waist, delighting in the soft, breathy whines and moans you pull from him. 

You return to his lips at the same time your fingers find his nipples, and he mewls into your mouth as he squirms, the sensation of your tugs and pinches through the lace almost overwhelming. No, it is overwhelming– but he likes it too much to ask you to do any different. And the more you play with his nipples, the squirmier he gets, his hands harshly gripping the armrest of his chair in an effort to ground himself. 

You fall to your knees, and he watches breathlessly as you press kisses over his pecs until you eventually reach one of his perked nipples. He keens when you take it in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it over the lace. He gasps when you suck on it, his nails trying their best to dig into the unyielding leather cushioning his armrest. 

“Does my Binnie like having his nipples played with like this?” you ask before you run your tongue over this other one. He whines, writhing in place as you resume pinching and tugging on the one that was just in your mouth, the lace now soaked with your saliva adding even more to the delicious friction. 

“L-Like it– like it so much, mama,” he finally answers in a shudder, voice squeaky and high pitched. He gasps when you graze your teeth over his nipple, head falling back and another loud moan drawing out of him when you gently bite it. He’s so sensitive, can’t stop himself from shivering and squirming under your diligent touch.

He moans again when you lean up to kiss him, your hand traveling down and down, until your hand reaches his belt again. “Will you take these off for me?” you ask, tugging ever so slightly on the buckle. You could do it yourself, of course, but you like the idea of watching him undress himself for you– and from the way he eagerly nods, you conclude that he likes the idea too. 

You smile at him before you rise back up to your feet and you take a step away from him, resting yourself comfortably against his desk while you wait for him to start. He glances at his door first– he knows it’s unlocked, but the blinds are drawn closed, at least; even if someone heard him, they hadn’t seen anything happening in the room. 

He looks at his windows next– tall and expansive, not a single curtain in sight; the view it affords him is normally well worth the lack of privacy curtains would provide, but when he considers how naked he’s about to be in front of them, it makes his heart race faster. But you’re so high up– surely, no one from the street will see anything.

And if someone from the skyscrapers sitting opposite of his building happens to see, well.. He supposes he’ll just have to hope they enjoy the show they’ll be receiving. Changbin rises from his chair, and with trembling hands he fumbles with his belt, doing his best to unbuckle it quickly. Once done, he proceeds with undoing the button of his slacks and pulling down the zipper. 

Given how tight his slacks are, they don’t fall down his legs just because the button has been undone and the zipper has been pulled down– he has to make a purposeful effort to remove them. He glances at you, notes how intently you watch him, ready and eager to see all of him– and that desire you harbor for him encourages him to go beyond the shyness that grips him. 

Pulling them down over the swell of his ass, the first sight you’re met with is more white lace, perfectly matching the top he still has on. Your heart feels like it’s positively going to burst from the view of his cock– short but impossibly thick, pressed down by dainty lace, leaking pre-cum and turning the otherwise pure white translucent.

Your breathing grows more labored just looking at it, and God, as if you weren’t already on the brink of drooling over him before– you absolutely need his cock in your mouth. But still, there’s more for you to see– so you sit patiently, swallowing as you wait for him to keep undressing himself for you. 

He has to bend over to pull his pants down his thighs, and his blush darkens when he notices you quite blatantly leaning to the side to look at his ass from his peripheral. There’s a glimpse of something shiny between his cheeks under the lace, and it makes you gasp with surprised delight. Changbin himself closes his eyes, trying not to let out a flustered whine when he realizes you’ve noticed it. 

A plug rests inside him, shiny steel with a pretty pink gem in the center in the shape of a heart. Has he had it inside all day? The thought makes you dizzy– and suddenly all the times he’d shivered after moving makes sense. “Gosh, wearing this to work– you’re so dirty Binnie,” you muse happily, and he whines, wishing for nothing more than to cover his face behind his hands. 

Though it’s obvious by this point that you like it, he’s hesitant to meet your gaze after stepping out of his slacks and standing back upright. But you can’t have that– so you grab his face, making him turn to you. “You’re so sexy, it’s unbelievable,” you tell him before you kiss him again, and he easily melts into it, nerves evaporating with your lips back on his.

Changbin can’t help being shy, but your desire for him makes it more bearable to push through– and the more you kiss him, the more floaty he feels. You reach behind, blindly and hastily shove everything off his desk before you turn him around, and guide him to sit on it. Neither of you pay any mind to the loud clatter the objects make hitting the floor, or of how mixed up any unstapled papers he had there will become– you’re much too absorbed in the feeling of one another.

You instruct him to lean back when you pull away from kissing him, and he listens in a heartbeat, tipping himself back on his desk. He props himself on his elbows, watches as you bring your hand to his cock, still contained by lace panties. He gasps when you squeeze it through the fabric, whines when you trail your fingers further down and press on the plug still nestled between his cheeks.

“What were you prepping for, hmm? Tell mommy about it,” you say, and again he squirms as he tries to speak, the blush on his face flaring. “I-I– Binnie was gonna–” he stumbles on his words, voice quivering, and he has to close his eyes to try to focus on getting what he wants to say out effectively. 

Waking up this morning feeling naughty, he knew he wanted to fuck himself– got himself ready bright and early, so that by the time he got home tonight he’d be nicely stretched and ready for his favorite dildo. He was going to suction it to the floor, ride it while he fisted his cock with one hand and tug on his nipples with the other, close his eyes and imagine it was someone else sweetly playing with him. 

The lingerie was to make him feel pretty– and looking at himself in the mirror before pulling his suit on, he really felt he was; he was giddy with the feeling of being sexy and cute simultaneously. He liked knowing it was there under his suit, liked feeling the lace against his skin, liked how much it contrasted the rest of his physique. 

He’s trying to tell you as much, knows even without seeing your face how expectantly you’re waiting to hear it– but he struggles embarrassingly, because he can feel your hand stroking his cock over his panties. All he can do with his eyes closed is focus on the sensation your hand grants him– so he opens his eyes again, forcing himself to keep eye contact with you as he speaks.

“A-Ahh– Binnie was gonna– gonna fuck himself,” he admits, trying not to whine from the way you pleasantly coo and smile at him. “Mommy can fuck you,” you tell him sweetly, and God, he feels like he could cum from the words alone. “Would you like that? Want my fingers to fill you up?” you ask, and he nods so fast it almost makes him dizzy.

“Yes! Please, please, fuck me, need it so bad, please–” he begs, and you coo at him as your fingers slip under his panties, once again finding the plug he has nestled inside. He lifts his legs, holds himself under the knees to make your task easier– and it’s effort on his muscles, but what has he spent so much time building them up for if not this? 

“You’re ready for me to take it out?” you ask, watching him carefully– he certainly seems eager enough, but you don’t want there to be any unpleasant surprises. “Ready, ‘m ready, do it please,” Changbin pleads, desperate to feel you inside– he wants it, needs it, more than he feels he can vocalize; but he’d certainly try his best if you asked him to. 

You kiss him sweetly, shove his lace panties to the side as much as you can manage too and swallow his whines as you slowly and carefully pull the plug out of his hole. You put it on his desk, but it rolls right off, hitting the floor with a dull thud– not that he cares about it right now; he’ll retrieve it later. All he can think about is how empty he feels now, but how deliciously your fingers will replace the feeling, and make him full again. 

He prepped himself well, was diligent in his use of lube– but you still want to get your fingers plenty wet and slick before you try to slide them in. He watches you bring two of your fingers to your mouth, utterly mesmerized by the way they disappear into your mouth, how shiny they are with your saliva when you pull them out. 

You spit on them too for good measure when you’re finished coating them, and he licks his lips as he stares at your fingers– again, he wants, wants, wants. You notice it, of course you do– the blatant yearning in his gaze, how he licks his parted lips once more, how he practically drools as he stares.

“Want to help me get them wet, sweet boy? Want them in your mouth?” you smile as you ask, amusedly tilting your head. “Or was it me spitting on them that you liked? Should I spit on you too?” “Both, please, want both,” he answers in a hurry, utterly shameless. “Is that so?” you ask with a grin that sends a shiver down the length of his spine.

“Open your mouth for me Binnie, show me your tongue,” you instruct, and he complies obediently, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue for you. He moans when you spit on it, and again when you press your wet fingers into his mouth. He closes his lips around them, diligently swirls his tongue around your digits before he sucks.

He gags when you press them in further, the tips of your fingers brushing against the back of his throat. His eyes water, saliva pools in his mouth and dribbles down the corners, and it’s so utterly entrancing that you just have to praise him. “So good for me, Binnie’s such a good boy,” you coo, and he keens as he quickly nods his head, as if to say ‘I am! I’m a good boy for you!’

Changbin almost wants to whine when you slip your fingers out of his mouth, but then you slide your slicked fingers over his waiting hole, and all he can do is gasp and whimper. “Mommy’s gonna fuck you now,” you tell him, voice so saccharine it makes his head spin– he still can’t believe this is really happening, but he’s so happy that it is. 

He jolts when you easily slide two of your fingers inside, his cock twitching against the lace panties still holding it down. There’s very little resistance thanks to the plug that was in prior and how slick he and your fingers are, but you still take it slow, carefully watching him for discomfort. Ultimately, you sense none– all he feels his pleasure, licking over every inch of his body.

“Look at you, you take it so well,” you praise as you watch your fingers disappear into his hole, and he whines as he watches with you. He whimpers loud and pretty when you curl your fingers into his spot, his head falling back as he bites his lip. He’s trembling all over, he’s seeing stars behind his closed eyes, he can hardly breathe when you start to thrust your fingers expertly in and out.

“Feels good, Binnie?” you ask him, and God, it’s so hard to speak like this, but he does his best for you. “F-Feels so– so good, mama, Binnie feels so good,” he cries, jolting again when you spit on his hole, adding more to the wetness so you can easily add a third finger. His breath catches in his throat when it’s fully inside, his eyes rolling back as he gasps and moans.

Your eyes travel to his cock, twitching and throbbing where it lies neglected, pre-cum still steadily leaking from the tip. You stop moving your fingers for just a moment, sink to your knees and lick at his cock over the lace still containing it. “O-Oh, mommy– oh my God–” he gasps as he lifts his head back up to look at you. 

It’s such a dirty sight, and he can hardly handle the way you stare back at him through your glasses. His back bows off the desk when you start moving your fingers again, that moan that follows obscenely pornographic. He feels so hot, body trembling, thighs twitching– he’s already so, so close. “‘m gonna cum,” he whines his warning, his hands desperately grabbing at his desk as he feels his orgasm build deep in his stomach, “Please, can I? L-Let me cum, please mama–”

He whines when you stop, his impending orgasm ebbing away as you rise back to your feet. You grab his face, make him look at you before you resume the motion of your fingers– and when you squeeze his cheeks, he knows what to do. He opens his mouth for you, sticks out his tongue, obedient and eager. 

He moans when you spit on it, swallows it like the good boy he is and opens his mouth for more after. “You’re so dirty,” you comment, letting go of his face to slip your hand into his panties, and wrap your hand around his cock. You spit in his mouth once more, now fisting his cock to the same rhythm of your fingers thrusting inside and hitting his spot. 

His eyes roll back as he swallows it all, a steady stream of whimpers leaving as his toes curl. “Mommy, I-I’m–” he trembles, release so close he isn’t sure he can hold it back; he'll try if you tell him to, but– “cum, gonna– gonna cum, please, I can’t– mama, please–”

“Let go, sweet boy, cum for me,” you urge him, and he wants to thank you– but it hits him so hard, all he can do is cry. You can continue to stroke him through it, his cum releases in thick spurts, coating your hand and soiling his panties. You don’t stop until he starts to writhe from the oversensitivity, gently releasing his cock and sliding your fingers out of him as he lies breathless against the desk. 

His eyes are closed, heart racing as he lies limp, utterly exhausted from the intensity of his orgasm. You look to the floor, find the tissue box that previously rested on his desk and grab a few to clean your hand up with, as well as gently wipe away the cum that seeps out of his panties. 

Changbin smiles at you sheepishly when you wipe the sweat from his brow, and kisses you after you help him sit back up. “Are you thirsty?” you ask him, rounding the desk to retrieve your bag from your chair. You pull out a water bottle, and he accepts it graciously, thanking you after he takes a few big sips. You both giggle when he tries to stand, but quickly realizes he’s still wobbly in the legs, so you help him get dressed too.

He can't help but give you another shy smile as you help him smooth over suit, giggling happily when you kiss him afterwards. He knows he’s still fairly debauched– after all, his face is still impossibly flushed, his skin is still running hot, and there’s lipstick marks all over him that can’t easily be wiped off with a few tissues; but he likes it. 

He just hopes that no one made the decision to pull some over time– it’d save him a lot of embarrassment leaving the building if you’re the only two left. But speaking of leaving.. “Uhm– Y/N,” he calls you timidly just as you both finish re-tidying his office, and tilt your head as you hum in question, giving him your full attention. “Will you– will you have dinner with me?” he asks, the faded blush returning when you beam a smile at him.

“For business or pleasure?” you tease him, and he huffs as you giggle. “Pleasure,” he replies meekly, hoping you’ll come home with him after; he’ll return the favor then, do everything he possibly can to make you feel as good as you made him feel. “I’d love to, Changbin,” you tell him, giving him one more kiss before you link your hand in his; and he smiles at you before you leave the building together hand in hand, with the night still young and so much more fun still to be had.

network tags: @ksmutsociety

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Chains of Bones: DARK!GODAEMOND X READER

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES.

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:4044 (wow what a nice number)

AU.

Daemon Targaryen’s pov (3th person)

Daemon has never been a patient soul. He is known for his terrible temper, mood swings and violence tendencies whenever he is made to wait. One time he beheaded a servant for not delivering his sword on time. And Daermon will never be a patient soul.

He sits on the dragonstone throne, legs crossed and anxiously eyeing the golden hourglass where more and more sands gather at the bottom. He sighs, displeased. Waiting makes him feel powerless, and being powerless makes him dangerous. The King of the Dragons has never been very forgiving. Not even his wife, the Goddess of the Realms and Lights could teach him that virtue. Nothing would. Not his children, nothing.

Finally, the big stone doors are pushed open. Daemon rises, at long last. He stares right into a empty hallway. He takes out his sword, and carefully approaches the door making sure to watch his back at the same time. When he reaches the doors, he can feel a feint, tiny brush of air as if someone slipped just past him.

And when he turns around, there is a tall, pale, black clothed creature sitting on his throne, arms crossed over the arm seats, wearing a crown made of bones. The creature chuckles at Daemon’s scowl. ‘’My favorite uncle. Please sheath your sword. I don’t wish to harm you.’’ The man says. 

Daemon knows how well a duel would end, with them both being immortal beings driven by devine powers. It would be a dumb waste of time to even try to kill Aemond Targaryen. Not when he is wearing the bone crown and still embodies the King of the Underworld. So with great displeasure, Daemon does as he is told. For once. 

Pleased, Aemond sinks back further in the big chair, dramatically sighing as he takes in the paintings on the ceiling. Tales of old Valyria and the doom are written up there and he lets out a chuckle as Daemon’s blood pressure only rises and rises. ‘’Am I late?’’ The smirk betrays that he has watched Daemons squirming and impatient pacing for some time. ‘’My apologies. It was a hell of a ride to get here.’’ 

Daemon rolls his eyes at the overused poor joke. ‘’We know you’ve been troubled with traveling lately.’’ It is true. As King of the Underworld, Aemond cannot leave Hell unattended for too long. It is one of the pesky burdens that comes with the bone crown. Aemond seems to think this a burden too, as he quickly avoids Daemon’s eyes, suddenly looking quite human and even alone.

Aemond pushes himself up from the chair, his tone changing from calm and cheerful to a barely concealed threat. ‘’All thanks to your wife, and your devilspawn. You should’ve had them all whipped or beaten. You are too soft with your little girls.’’ Daemon hides a smirk, barely containing his pride that his daughters of all people got the better of Aemond. He would not beat anyone. He rewarded them. ‘’No matter. There is nothing more they can do to hurt me.’’ He is worried. Aemond does not forgive nor forget.

A silence follows as Aemond slowly approaches Daemon, his good eye staring at the sword, Darksister. It never has left Daemon’s side. Not once. ‘’You look good, Aemond. More…like you used to be.’’ Daemon’s voice is a soft whisper that becomes only softer once he realizes how much more human Aemond looks. No more black and blue bruises under his eyes, no more blood used as make up or bone necklaces and skin cloaks. No. Aemond looks different. Almost like the nephew, Daemon lost so long ago.

Aemond smiles, but its not sincere. Its the smile of the devil, of the darkness that hides deep within him. “Ah, you see, Uncle I have fallen in love.” He proclaims, as he takes a goblet of wine, that he magically made appear on a side table near the throne. There is one for Daemon too. Aemond gestures, inviting Daemon to drink with him.

It would be too good to be true for Daemon. Drinking with his nephew, like they used to. It feels like a trap. Aemond rolls his eye at Daemon’s suspicion. ‘’What good would poisoning you even do to me? I already got all I wanted. All the power I desire.’’ A lie. But one Daemon wants to believe. His wife holds the final piece of power Aemond wants, the Crown of Light. But he can’t have that. Rhaenyra would never willingly hand it over. 

Daemon is so caught up in staring at the wine that he only hears Aemond’s words so much later. Love? He breaks his stare, looking at his nephew instead. It would explain Aemond’s change of wardrobe, of his mysterious sudden visit and his cheeks that seem to have a tiny bit of color. It is love. Daemon just never assumed he was capable of love. Not anymore. 

And that gives Daemon hope.

Because if Aemond can love, he can be defeated. He can lose the crown and become a mortal once more. Easy as that.

Daemon puts his goblet down, his eyes sparkling with joy and curiosity. "Truly? Such wondrous news. I am glad for you. Tell me, who is the lovely lady?” Whoever captured the heart of Aemond had to be a special girl. A very special girl. 

Aemond shrugs in a way that tells Daemon nothing at all and takes another sip of the wine. When he is finished, he licks off his lips. “She makes me very happy. That's all you need to know. I want your permission to take her with me to the underworld. I want her to become my queen and the mother of my children. She will be treated as a goddess and worshiped as she deserves.” It is up to Daemon. Aemond cannot drag any souls to the Underworld. Not without Daemon’s or Rhaenyra’s consent. He needs their power to open the portal. He would otherwise not get anyone back to hell.

“Well, your happiness is important to me. If you are certain, you may take her with you when you go home.” Daemon says, a bit too careless. A bit too stupid. The moment those words are spoken, Aemond cracks his neck, a smirk spreading on his lips, wider than it should. He begins to chuckle, throws his goblet over his shoulder and takes off, sprinting to the big stone doors. 

Daemon watches him disappear, but before he leaves, he can hear Aemond’s words.  “Thank you, Uncle. I am sure to invite you to our wedding.”

—------------------

You are sitting on your knees, attending the flowers of a dark, black rose. The roses have sprouted out of the ground as mushrooms in fall lately, and the Queen told you to watch them whenever that happened. The flowers are blooming now. You just need to wait on Queen Rhaenyra to return to tell her the good news. 

The Queen warned you to never wander into the garden too far, as the other flowers have terrible effects on mortals. Flowers that could make you sleep forever, or turn you into a toad or straight up kill you. A pity. You always liked flowers. But you like living more. So you stay, patiently waiting for the Queen. 

The clouds begin to gather as the wind picks up in a strange way that feel too cold for spring, and too brute. It feels like winter itself, wrapping around you, making you shiver as you glance around. There is nothing there. You tell yourself so, at least.

The wind continues blowing, and you watch as the petals of the black roses fall, gathering on a pile on the ground. You take a step back, just for safety.  The petals fall on the ground, rise up, and form a circling whirlwind of black, rose petals. And eventually, someone appears in the middle of all the petals. A figure with a skin pale as bones, hair as white as the moon wearing a black cloak, covered in symbols you do not understand. 

He looks at you, staring at you as if studying you. You do the same. You take in his terrifying crown, wondering if its made of real bones. You also stare at his nails that have dark, black unnatural ends, where dark magic is clearly gathering ready to be used.  ‘’Careful, Petal. It is dangerous at night.’’ He says, smiling at you. You are well aware. It is why you go home whenever it gets dark.

Confident, you laugh.

‘’It is midday, sir.’’ You say, and look up to prove your point. Only to be met with a dark canvas where no star shines, where no moon shimmers. Just absolute darkness. 

‘’How-’’ You stutter, quickly shutting yourself up.

‘’Mhm.’’ He smirks, pleased with your confusion. ‘’I can do so many more tricks.’’ He says, approaching you carefully. He snaps his fingers, and in his left hand there is now a beautiful black rose. He sniffs it briefly, before extending it to you, as if to give it. You are careful with accepting. You know all magic comes with a price. Dark magic, the most of all.

‘’I should go back to the palace.’’ You say, refusing to accept the rose. The man chuckles, snaps his fingers again, and you feel a soft breeze near your face. You feel your hair, and notice that he put something in it. Likely the rose. 

‘’Gevie.’’ The man mutters, staring at you. You know it is a compliment. Prince Daemon calls his wife, Queen Rhaenyra this regularly. You know well what it means. It should flatter you. But it only scares you. Terrifies you. Because why does that man know the tongue of the Gods?

You don’t re-announce your departure, you just run this time. You feel your feet stop under your legs, and you fall on the stones, scratching your knees and hands on the beautiful mosaic tiles. The man kneels down besides you, staring at your hands. ‘’My poor Petal, let me help you. That wasn’t my intention.’’ He waves his hands over your knees, and you watch as the wounds heal under his touch. You yank your legs away, terrified. 

He smiles, calmly. ‘’Well, now that we both understand our positions, I think it is time to make preparations.’’ You don’t speak to him, your mind wandering as you wonder what he could possibly mean. He begins to ramble a bit, you aren’t paying attention. You hear him praise your beauty and your intelligence. At the end he grabs your chin, and gives you a kiss on your lips. Shocked, you pull away. 

‘’What do you think you are doing?’’ You yell, in fury. The man backs away, hurt and confusion written in his good eye. You can tell he isn’t used to rejection. Or any of this. His compliments felt sincere but insecure. He is not used to courting anyone.

‘’Claiming my price?’’ He asks, a bit dumbfounded and a bit dry.

Fury burns inside of you. ‘’Your price?!’’ You give him a push against his chest, creating more distance. ‘’I am not sure who you think you are…’’

That causes him to wake up. He smirks, and claps his hands. Darkness spreads further as you back away, terrified. ‘’Let me introduce myself, Petal.’’ Roots deep from the earth, grab your feet, chaining you to the earth as the man smiles.

You somehow know just who he is when you look at your feet. No tree roots are holding you. But skeleton arms. Bones. ‘’I am the King of the Underworld, Lord of Death, bringer of Doom, friend of depression. I am Aemond, I am everything mortals fear.’’ He will kill you. He will tear your soul out.

To hurt Rhaenyra and Daemon.

‘’But you, my love, my Petal…’’ He whispers, touching your face gently. You expect him to take your eye or your sight away. To feel blood and next to feel the sweet embrace of death. But you only feel a soft, kiss on your head.

Aemond smiles, and you realize he kissed you again. ‘’It was predicted, long ago, that you wouldn’t be frightened, Petal. I must say, I never believed in that. Until now. You have already proved to me that the prophecy is no lie. You make my heart beat again. You Petal, are very dear to me.’’ He puts your free hand on his heart, and you are shocked when your hand sinks away in his chest, proving there is no heart. Just a hole.

You open your mouth, screaming.

‘’Queen Rhaenyra!’’ You hope she comes to save you.

He is very quick to silence you.

‘’Petal!’’ He groans, slamming a hand on your mouth. ‘’No. Bad. I don’t want her here.’’ He says, chuckling to hide how truly scared he is of her. ‘’I don’t want the Queen here. If you prove to be obedient, I might invite her to our wedding. But I don’t want her ruining what I worked so hard for.’’ What work? 

Aemond takes in your chained down feet and your trembling body. He leans in, kissing you on your lips, before moving to your neck, and your shoulders. ‘’My Petal.’’ He proclaims, as if stating a claim over you and your body. You stubbornly try to break free again. He grins. ‘’No, I won’t let you go, until I have what I want.’’ He wants you.

You feel strange sensations and unfamiliar desires battle deep inside of you as his lips gently suck on your skin, pulling your dress more and more down and open. He takes in your breasts, gasping hungrily as if he’s been without food for days. He begins to kiss your breasts, gently touching them with his long fingers. His nails scratch over your mortal skin, and it slightly burns.

You must stop him. ‘’My lady is powerful. If I were you I  won’t do this again or continue.’’ Your voice is pitched, driven by the desire as your head becomes lightheaded.

Aemond scowls, displeased as he stops touching you. “Daemon gave you away to me. He said my happiness is very important to him.” He says. Somehow hearing that Daemon sold you to this monster, breaks your heart. When you lost your own family you had hoped they would take you in. But they betrayed you. Same as your own family. You sob. 

‘’Rhaenyr-’’ Your voice suddenly stops. Aemond smiles, kissing you again. and again. and again.

“Sh, my lovely petal. I will speak, you'll be silent and hear what I have to say. For your own sake.” He whispers kissing your cheeks. Tears break free as you whimper, trying to find your You only fight harder. He chuckles, pleased with this development. “Stop it or I'll take away your free will too, my little petal.” he whispers but his voice is as cold as his eyes. You obey, crying silently. 

He seems to soften at this, awkwardly patting your back. “There is no reason for sadness. You'll be coming with me. You'll become the Queen of the Underworld. All your wishes will come true and all your enemies will watch you triumph. You'll wear the finest silks and the heaviest crowns, entrusted with the rarest gems. You'll be my queen.”

You don’t want to become his Queen.

‘’Mine.’’ He whispers as he kisses your breasts, softly biting on your nipples, causing you to cry out in pain. He chuckles, the pain of you likely arousing him further. ‘’I am the God of everything that's forbidden, Petal. I can feel your desires, sense your lust to take you in this garden, to take and to take until there's nothing left for me to take.” You moan as he begins to push your final layer of clothing down too, inserting his long fingers inside of you. 

You whimper wordlessly. He smiles, undressing himself too. He picks you up by your hips, planting you easily on the stone bench, with your back to his front.  “I am your Queen.” You say, unsure where your sentence is going.

Aemond laughs in response, pushing a finger deep inside of you. “Not yet.  And I have been waiting for this for some time. I have certain plans that will be upheld. And besides…” He bends you as some animal, on your knees ready to be taken. You are once again feeling his fingers, and feel his lips leave kisses on your back. 

You feel trapped.

You begin to whimper again. He kisses you, but his kisses only burn.

“Shh. My love. I've waited so long. And here you are.” he cups your breasts feeling every inch of your skin. “Mine, wet and warm. You'll feel as a delight. I want you to know, Petal. It'll hurt. But that's part of the fun. I'll teach you. How to please me…and yourself.” He promises you as you briefly battle against his strong arms.

“I love you, Petal.” He whispers, before slamming himself inside of you, grabbing you by the hips and taking you on the garden bench. Your cries echo through the night and the garden as pleasure builds, blinding you for a moment. Aemond lets out a deep moan, close to a groan. 

You cry out, trying to escape.

Aemond chuckles and takes you again letting out a sigh. “You will not be going anywhere. Be a good sweet girl and take what I'm giving you.” He whispers. ‘’You like it too, Petal. You are going to like it so much.’’ You know you shouldn’t. Your whimpers increase as well as his moans. 

The taking becomes aggressive and almost painful, as Aemond’s hunger for you grows. You look back, taking in his silver blonde hair and the crown that is still standing perfectly still on his head. You reach out, to touch his face. He bends you back on the bench, taking you again and again. You cry out, the stones muffling your cries and moans. You hear him chuckle, moan and groan in delight, and finally you hear him scream your name. You freeze up, terrified. You never told anyone that. Your real name. Aemond simply lifts you from the bench, inspecting you with a grin. ‘’Your turn, little Petal.’’ He looks at the bloodied bench. He puts you back on your knees, and this time you are being the one catered to. He kisses you much gentler and tries to not bite you anymore. He is allowing you to touch his hips. But not much more than that. Whenever you try to touch his face, or to kiss him, he recoils, clearly annoyed with your attempts. You are new to this. Maybe that is it. But you aren’t an idiot, and deep down you know Aemond is hiding something.

The moans escape your mouth at some point, pleasure taking hold of you and blocking your anger. Aemond grins, satisfied as you begin to carefully move your back against his front, begging for it slightly. He likes that, touches your legs slightly, rewarding you with a soft kiss that makes you shiver. He pats your legs. Aemond chuckles. “It's good, hm?”

You nod. ‘’Y-yes.’’

He smiles. ‘’I will make you finish, Petal. But I need you to do something first for me.’’ You are curious and worried. You are quickly taken again, to block out the question. To make you stop wondering and worrying.

‘’What?’’ You ask.

‘’I need you to hold my crown. For a moment.’’ Aemond says, surprising you. You reach out to his crown, carefully feeling the bones. Nothing happens. Or, nothing you can see. But something has shifted.

You let go of the crown as Aemond touches your back, rubbing it gently for you and kisses you between your legs. ‘’Now it’s time to give you your reward.’’ You brace yourself as Aemond this time forces you on your back, and spreads your legs. You embrace him, as he violently fucks you on the bench, giving you it his all. He builds and builds your pleasure until finally you implode, crying out. He smiles, and you feel relief and satisfaction. He stops.  You are bleeding and a sore mess when he is finished. He is a god, after all. 

You sit up, catching your breath as you stare at your ruined dress. Aemond snaps his fingers, and the next moment you are dressed in a beautiful white lace gown. He smiles, admiring his own magic on your skin. ‘’There. That is fit for a Queen. Not those rags you were put in earlier.’’ He declares, feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. He is taking your temperature. Why? He studies your face carefully too.

‘’A Queen needs a crown, don’t you agree?’’ You say, eying the bone crown on his head. You heard the legends. You know what it does. It would make you the new King of the Underworld. Aemond chuckles, condensing as if he caught you in a lie.

You expect him to take your eye or to kill you in a whim. But he does something unspeakable instead. He boops your nose. ‘’Alas, my powers are limited in this world.  But I assure you, your coronation is one of the most important things on my mind.’’ You don’t doubt that it is. It sounds as if he somehow has your whole life planned out with him.

‘’I would much rather stay here.’’ You say, clearly. ‘’This was fun but …I am a servant.’’ You hope it's embarrassing for him to love someone so lowly.

Aemond shrugs. ‘’You can still be my servant, if you are into serving. You will just be wearing a crown and making all your enemies bow.’’ He gives you a final chance to join him willingly. You step away.

He shrugs once more, and snaps his fingers, opening a vortex of pure darkness under your feet. The darkness sweeps you away and you know exactly where you are going. The Underworld.

You end up in the throne room, laying on the tiles and deeply in pain. A hand helps you stand, and you look at Aemond’s smug face. He doesn’t seem that charming anymore. You sit up, still wearing the gown he gave you. ‘’My love for you is true, Petal. In time, you will see that. But I don’t want Daemon coming back on his agreement.’’ He tells you, and you are shocked that he even tells you this at all.

‘’Why would Daemon come back on his deal?’’ You ask.

He smiles, avoiding the question. ‘’You are as clever as you are beautiful. One day, you’ll figure it out. But for now, I have many enemies. I don’t want them stealing you away from me.’’

‘’Like you stole me?’’ You reply.

‘’Don’t hurt me, Petal.’’ He dramatically clutches at his chest, and his hand vanishes through the fabric inside of the skin. You roll your eyes, but also can’t help the smile that creeps on your lips.

He snaps his fingers, and a thin necklace made out of bones appears around your neck, weighing you down in ways that almost make you stumble to your knees. He smiles as you stumble, fall to your knees and try to tear the necklace off your neck. ‘’See this as your crown, until I know I can trust you. I don’t trust many people, Petal. So, you have one chance with me. Don’t ruin it. Or I will have to add your lovely bones to my collection.’’ Your face is cupped again and Aemond kisses your lips again, this time freed of all bounds that you had in the upper world. He devours and kisses you at the same time, taking pieces of your soul. You try to fight it and to stop it, but after a while you notice you hunger for him, and even pull him back by the collar of his shirt  when he tries to leave. He smiles as an answer. ‘’Welcome home, my Queen.’’ He leaves after that, leaving you alone in the castle.

You try to break the necklace again, and again. And when that does not work, you break into tears and sobs and begin to scream, trying to either free or choke yourself. Eventually, you black out.

A/N USELESS WORLD BUILDING IS HERE

Hello.

As with any fic so tied heavily to lore,

I like to tell you a bit more about the world. So the world is Greek mythology inspired but its also really tied in with demonic things like demons and stuff. ( as i didnt read greek mythology as a kid because and youre gonna laugh ''EW THOSE PEOPLE DID INCEST'' WELL BELLY GUESS WHAT?! XDD'' It is also inspired by OUAT (Once upon a time)’s magic system. (Magic comes with a price, dearie eheheheh) It basically was a unhinged mix of it all. I liked assigning the targaryens with like new goddess thingies because Daemon being the god of dragons it just sounded fun. I wanted him and aemond to have a closer relationship because I think thats great when it all goes to hell:) literally. and the roses. theres a beauty and the beast reference in there too, i feel it. ‘’what of the bones?’’ oh, those. ehm…i dont really know where they came from, and suddenly there were a lot xD when i sat down and edited the fic, Aemond didnt had that power ,..and now he does xD so . xD okay enough rambling bye bye. Let me know what you think. This was my first god aemond Fic xD

[lineffability]

"Crowley."

Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.

"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."

"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.

"I need your help" Aziraphale said.

"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.

The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.

"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."

"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.

Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.

"Why are you here?"

Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)

"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"

"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."

There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."

"No."

"This is important." (This isn't about us.)

"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)

"You do! You always have."

"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."

"That's not what I meant."

With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)

Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."

The words dropped like a lead balloon.

There was utter silence between them.

Why were they so close?

Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.

But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.

He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.

This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.

This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.

"I'm sorry. I need to go."

"Of course you do."

"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."

And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?

With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.

Crowley was alone.

His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.

And failed considerably.

I love you.

(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)

[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]

[wannab-urs]

You’re So Dark

Pairing: Professor!Dave York x Grad Student!f!Reader

Summary: There’s only one thing you really want out of this conference – your research adviser, Dave York. 

Warnings: smut, professor/student relationship, reader is a brat, this is very close to a self insert fic so she’s also a cocky little asshole, power dynamics, age gap (Dave is in his late 40s, reader is at least 21 but not specified), Dave is conflicted, that’s why he’s such a dickhead, Divorced!Dave, drinking but no one is all that intoxicated, unprotected PIV (but he has a vasectomy and reader is on BC), creampie, oral f!receiving, lots of arguing, no use of y/n. WC: 2.4k

A/N: Based on a true story. Just had this idea out of nowhere, don’t look at me. Thanks to @pedgito for the beta <3

Dave York Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi | Playlist

You knock on his door, wearing nothing but a skimpy tank top and shorts. The conference doesn’t start for a while, so you put on comfy clothes following the long car ride. That’s not your only motivation, though, for showing up at his hotel room in barely anything. 

The hotel is nice, nice enough that you feel underdressed in the hallway. You’re set to present your paper on John Donne today at 2. Your research adviser Dr. York – Dave – had picked you up at your apartment at 5 this morning to drive you both to the conference. He’s presenting his latest paper. Something about journals kept by British people during World War II. 

You shift your weight from foot to foot waiting for him to answer the door. Finally, you hear the chain drop and the door opens. He eyes you up and down, one eyebrow quirked, before turning around and walking back into the room. 

“Are you wearing that to the conference?” He’s already settling back into the shitty desk chair by the window. You look down at your outfit and then back up to glare at the back of his head. 

“Yeah. Obviously.” You lay back on his bed and stretch your back, sore from the 5 hour car ride. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Working.” 

You roll onto your stomach and look at him. The mid morning light casts a glare over his screen, but only serves to highlight his features. You hate how pretty he is, how much you want him.

“Are you wearing that to the conference?” He’s wearing navy dress pants and a tight white t-shirt that is definitely a size too small. 

“I have a dress shirt.” He seems irritated today. Shoulders tense, sentences clipped. You wonder if it’s you that has him all worked up. 

You slide off the bed into the floor and go through some simple yoga poses. Your back is really messed up from that car ride. You sit on your knees and walk your hands forward as far as they’ll go, dropping your head to the floor. You sigh as you sink into child’s pose, feeling the stretch in your sore hips and back. “What are you working on?” You ask, voice muffled by the carpet. 

“Will you shut up?” You snap your head up to look at him. He’s fucking tetchy today… and he hasn’t looked over at you once, as far as you can tell. 

“Make me.”

“When have I ever been able to make you do anything?” 

You sit back on your heels and tilt your head to the side. He’s almost shaking, he’s so tense. You’ve never seen him like this. “You never ask nicely.”

He wordlessly scoots his chair back and spreads his legs, still typing away on his laptop. You crawl over and settle yourself between his legs. He still doesn’t look at you.

“What do you want, Dave?” 

“For you to stop talking.”

“Is that all you want?”

“No.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

You lean in and drag your lips over the bulge in his slacks, hear the sharp snatch of breath, the clack of keys as his hands hit them all at once. 

You’re not going to do it until he tells you to and he isn’t going to ask. It’s a standoff. He thinks he has to let you make the first move. Does this not count as a first move? You in such a supplicant pose, gazing up at him from between his thighs. 

“You should go get dressed. We have to leave soon.” Quiet, strained, so unlike his usually smooth and confident cadence, and still not meeting your eyes. He rolls the chair back so you have room to scoot out. 

Your cheeks sting with rejection, but you know he wants you as bad as you want him. He’s just afraid of the consequences. You slip out from under his desk and retreat to your room to get changed. 

–-

The conference goes as smoothly as it can – it was your first ever presentation at something like this, and you definitely got tripped up on some of the questions the audience asked you. Afterward, Dave drags you outside to a group of people. He introduces you to Will, Laurie, Anna, and Doug. They’re colleagues, friends, that he often meets up with at conferences. 

“Wanna come with us to get drinks?” Anna asks. 

“Sure!” you agree before Dave can turn them down. He scowls at you, but turns a megawatt smile on when he looks back to Anna. 

“Sounds good,” he says through his teeth. 

Dave gossips in your ear all night, filling you in on each of his friends. Will and Laurie are both supposedly polyamorous and only hook up with each other at conferences, but Dave knows Will’s wife has no idea. Anna is in trouble with her school for a presentation she did last year, and she had to have today’s presentation reviewed by her department chair before she could present. Doug has a thing for Anna, but she’s married. 

The gossip is a good holdover, but you’re antsy the whole time. You sip vodka sodas slowly while your mind whirs with the possibilities of tonight. Dave drinks whiskey on the rocks, jokes with his friends when he’s not whispering in your ear. 

You and Dave go out to smoke, leaving everyone else in the bar. You split an American Spirit with him. 

“If you only smoke when you drink, why do you have a near empty pack of expensive cigarettes?” 

“I drink every night.” 

“God you’re pathetic.” 

“Not as pathetic as the grad student with a thing for her professor.” 

“Fuck you. You’re not my professor.” 

“Oh, so you do have a thing for me?”

You’d thought that was obvious from your earlier attempt to blow him.

 “You know what’s actually pathetic, Dave? The professor who wants to fuck his student.” 

“You’re not my student.”

 “Oh, so you do want to fuck me?” 

He puts out the cigarette in the ashtray and stalks off inside. 

By the end of the night, you regret agreeing to go out, desperate to get back to the hotel and get Dave alone. This may be your only shot at getting what you want from him and you can’t waste it. You say goodnight to everyone, tell them how nice it was to meet them all, and head out, Dave close behind you. You think you catch Laurie giving him a knowing look, but you can’t be certain. 

You walk back to the hotel, your arm brushing his. Out of nowhere, Dave chuckles and pushes his shoulder into you. 

“What? What’s funny?”

“Nothing. I like that you step on the sewer grates.”

“What?”

“The drainage grates. My ex wife was terrified of them. She’d rather walk in the street than step on one. You don’t even hesitate.”

“Oh.”

“I just mean– I don’t know what I mean. You’re brave.”

“Thanks,” you say earnestly, looking into his eyes. 

“You’re welcome.” He averts his gaze, looks back down at the ground. You think he might be blushing. 

You get to the hotel and the lady at the desk gives you and Dave a strange look. An “I know what this is and I don’t like it” look. You roll your eyes and stalk over to the elevators, punching the button with more force than necessary. You didn’t think it was that obvious, the dance you two were doing around each other. 

The ride up to the tenth floor is tense. Dave doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word. When you get up to where you’re supposed to split off, he asks if you want to come to his room for a drink. You say yes and follow him to his room. Now the nerves really kick in. It’s fine, you’re fine. You wonder if he’s gonna reject you again. It would be cruel after inviting you to his room, but he’s never really been kind. 

When you get into his room you sit on the bed and take off your dress shoes, your coat, and the blazer you’ve been wearing all day. He pours himself a bourbon from the minibar and offers you one. You take the cup in your hand, sipping the liquor and feeling heat trail down your throat. He knocks his back in one shot and stands in front of you at the bed.

You stand up, putting you inches from his body. You cover his bulge with your hand, squeezing lightly and nip your teeth at his throat. “Do you want to fuck me, Dave?” 

He shoves you backward with a growl and you fall on the bed. He tugs your trousers off and lowers himself between your legs. He licks you over your panties, feeling how wet you already are. He hooks his fingers into the gusset of your panties, knuckles brushing your entrance. 

“Oh you’re soaked for me, baby girl.” 

“Don’t call me that. Ew. God. Ew.”

“Fine. Brat.” Dave tugs your panties down and tosses them on the floor. He pushes your thighs apart and settles your legs over his shoulders. He covers your cunt with his mouth and flicks his tongue against your clit. You let out a moan and bury your fingers in his short hair. He flattens his tongue against you and you ride his face, grinding his aquiline nose into your mound as you move against him. 

He brings a hand up to press your stomach down, holding you still while he slips two fingers of his other hand inside you. You keen loudly at the stretch, squirming as he sucks your clit into his mouth. 

You’re so wet you can hear the wet squelch of your pussy around his fingers. He crooks them upward and you buck your hips hard enough to break the hold he has on you. 

“F-Fuck, Dave. Please,” you whine. 

“So polite when you finally get what you want,” he mutters into your cunt. 

He’s making you feel so fucking good, you’d let him say anything right now. He strokes your sweet spot almost methodically, like he’s had a lifetime of practice that led him here, making you whine and moan and squirm pathetically on just two of his fingers. Your grip tightens on his hair as you feel white hot bliss crawling up your spine. 

“Fuck. Dave. Gonna come.”

He doesn’t let up, the firm strokes of his fingers driving you higher and higher until finally you reach your peak and come crashing back down. You shatter, your pussy clenching rhythmically. 

“Can I fuck you?” Dave’s voice is rough and low like he’s been yelling.

“Do you have a condom?” 

“Do I need one?” 

“I mean I’m on birth control” 

“Oh I got snipped when I divorced Carol, that’s not what I meant” 

“They had vasectomies in the 1800s?”

“Are you clean or not?” 

“It’s a little fucking late to ask that, man, you just had your tongue inside me, but yeah.” 

“Fair enough.”

Dave helps you up the bed until your head rests on the pillows. He takes your shirt off, stripping your bra with it. He’s fully dressed and you’re bare before him. He leans down and kisses your neck, before his lips trail down to your chest. He sucks a mark into the soft skin of your breast. You start unbuttoning his shirt but he just pulls it off over his head, an urgency that wasn’t there before taking hold. 

“Need to be inside you, fuck.” 

He shucks his slacks down as far as possible without getting up and immediately slots his length against your slit. You reach down and adjust him yourself, lining up the tip with your entrance. He mutters something about “impatient” but pushes inside you anyway. He’s long and thick and he makes you feel so full. When he’s fully sheathed inside you, your eyes roll back in your head with pleasure. 

“Fuck. You’re huge, Dave. Fuck,” you whine, as if he needed the ego boost. 

You gasp his name as he starts fucking you, your fingernails digging into the skin at his sides. You pull him into you, urging him to fuck you harder. He growls and picks up the pace, the slapping of your skin, your loud moans, his grunts fill the room. 

You get lost in it a little, your mind slipping into that space where all you can think about is the sensation of his cock spearing you over and over. 

He slips a hand between your bodies and presses the pads of his fingers to your clit, rubbing in small circles. You throw your head back and scream his name as a wave of pleasure crashes over you. Dave fucks you through it, thrusts slowing but not stopping yet. 

“Where?”

It takes you a second to process what he’s asking. Where do you want his cum? 

“Inside. Please.”

“So polite. Fucked the brat right out of you, huh?”

You’re too fucked out to respond with a witty comment, so he must be right. He thrusts into you deep and you feel his cock pulse as he spills inside you. The sensation almost makes you feel like you could come again. 

He pulls out as soon as he’s finished, rolling to his feet and heading into the bathroom. The bastard doesn’t even seem winded. He comes back from the bathroom holding a wet washcloth in his hand. Dave wipes up the mess between your thighs and tosses the rag onto the floor.  

It’s after he’s cleaned you up and is standing in front of the bed that you notice his body. He’s more lean and muscled than you could really see beneath his dress shirts. You wonder idly if you’ll ever see him like this again. His bare, broad chest. His happy trail leading down to his unbuttoned slacks. 

He strips off his pants, leaving him in his briefs. His thighs are toned too. You kind of wish you’d gotten to explore his body more thoroughly. He crawls into bed and lays beside you, but doesn’t fit his body against yours the way you want him to. Never one to not get exactly what you want, you snuggle up to his side, throwing your arm across his chest. He readjusts and holds you close. 

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler.” 

“Didn’t take you for a missionary guy. Guess we’re both full of surprises.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t fucking love it.” 

You hum noncommittally. It was probably the best sex of your life, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

[sarah-denial-cq]

What makes you enjoy slave Leia so much? Merely a strong woman in a humiliating, revealing costume, or is there anything more to it?

Slave Leia fixed me.

I don't think I have a lot to say about it that isn't obvious, since I'm kinda stupid. But it's more than just a strong woman being put in a humiliating revealing costume.

First is the in universe concept (uh, I guess, spoilers for like a forty year old movie). It's not just that Leia is captured and put in the bikini. She's captured while in the process of thinking she can be strong and capable, that she can save someone. The outfit and voice changer she used while trying to rescue Han covered up her sex and her weakness. The contrast with that is immense. And when she's caught, people *laugh*. It's a big *joke*. It's not a serious she did a good try but jabba's crack team of security were better. It's like a surprise prank that they all pulled on her. Compare the defiance from when Vader first captures her on the blockade runner in EP IV, when she is strong in the face of capture after a battle well fought, to the face she makes when jabba catches her. No defiance. Just embarrassment, disgrace, weakness, confusion, stupid girl. Sorry I'm kinda masturbating while writing this.

And then she is stripped and put in a tacky bikini with arm bands and hair bands and a collar and leash. Fine. But she is exposed in front of Luke. The one who she was trying to be all tough girl equal around in EP IV and v. He is calm, composed, powerful, which just makes her weakness and stupidity more evident. Of course she couldn't save a man. But one could save her, at the price of seeing her stripped down to a waist and pair of tits.

And that's edge edge that's what brings this into the real world. It completely destroys Leia's character for the entire series. Ask any man who's watched star wars to describe the most iconic scene for Luke and it's idk his training with Yoda or his blowing up the death star or whatever. None of them will say him shirtless and weak and vulnerable in the bacta tank. But ask the same question about Leia and you will get one answer. If it had been her character from the start it wouldn't wreck me quite so much. But it isn't, it's two movies of.building her up as a badass strong independent woman and then haha no you stupid girls who thought this universe took you seriously this is how everyone sees you. The fact that it took away and overwrote and deleted and replaced oh god everything that she did in the eyes of the male audience the film was marketed.to edge is she's literally on a chain looking up at the guy she was pretending to be an equal to just like how I have to be lower and beneath and

And on top of all of that was Carrie's discomfort real world with how revealing the costume was to her professional colleagues it's literally wear this bra and skirt with no panties in front of people you pretend edge are workplace equals wet and pose while kneeling in it for the official promotion materials bark and inspire generations of girls to think that when they attend conventions about their hobbies they should dress up like subservient edge sluts and pose in huge undifferentiated groups for photos and anyways that's part of why I like slave Leia so much thanks for the ask.

[majorproblems77]

Another day another LU analysis with me!

Dawn 9 is here and with it the end of the next arc of the LU comic is done!

This update did a lot and is also a full 10 pages long! So there's a bunch to unpack!

As always linked universe belongs to @linkeduniverse and Jojo, I own none of the pictures I'm using and please give the original post some love. It's very well done and I love this comic so much.

You can find the comic here!

Oh, and obviously spoilers for the most recent LU update if you've not looked at it!

Now, checklist. Popcorn, water and time to read half an hour worth of rambling.

Without further ado!

The letters!

So, Twilight, four and Time all appeared to get letters, with Time getting multiple (More on that later)

Twilights reaction to the super sale was my reaction while playing TP (I recently finished it for the first time! :D) when they opend the store in castle town. Every time i couldnt get there to get potions i was low key gutted.

And Four. Four's grandpa is a mood and i hope we get to meet him.

HE

blorbo blorbo blorbo

The master of standing 🧍

Beloved blorbo i love him

Okay im done

(Im not done)

Poor Sky He's so sad about it D:

But... I, as a part of the The team is heading to Skyloft next, team. Believe that Sun has done this on purpose. (Or that the Skyloftians dont have the mail system for him to retrieve anything) but i like to think its the first one.

Hmmm.... Time got multiple letters. (That takes care of the letter discrepancy)

Twi asking about the ranch, Time looking to one of the letters. This tells me one of two things.

The letter he's looking to could be from Malon, and he's genuenly not concerned.

or The letter he's looking at isnt from malon. Infact, by the way he's looking at it i think its from his Zelda. Possibly a report about black bloods in his time period. (As last time we see them in Time's era. They dont actually fight anything)

Twilight being cheeky and Time's dad face are giving me life.

But... as we know, Time is Twilights direct decendant only by a few generations at most. With the infomation we have from Twilight princess with Shade. And from jojo with Time and Twilight. I'm seeing this conversation as more of a father and son conversation over brothers.

And the rest of this conversation follows this same pattern. Twilight is very much being scolded. He's biting back with what he see's as Time's own words. (not that time know's as such)

Twilight looks genuenly shocked to hear this.

From the hero's shade (Time) in twilight princess.

"You may be destined to become the hero of legend...but your current power would disgrace the proud green of the hero's tunic you wear. "

I am screaming

And now im screaming more. Twilight nooooooooooooo

The we care about Twilight's well being gang. Spoiling us with the full body shots againnnnnnn.

Give me more of these three i love them all together.

And I'm convinced that theres going to be something bad happens to time directly after the end of the LU timeline.

Time is missing an eye. So we know that Shade and Time are closer together than the hero of time (In game). SO.... If time dosent Die on the adventure with the chain. I'm almost convinced he does almost right after he returns back to his time.

The armour is almost identical. He has most of the scaring which lines up....

If the helmet turns up, then i think Time dies during this adventure. It's the only thing i can see as missing.

Twilight.... Now i think Twilight thinks that the gods are giving him an opportunity to save the hero of time from dying to become the heros shade. but thats the funky thing about timetravel.

(Depending on how Jojo and LU time travels works.)

I believe that the timetravel in LU solidifies the adventures of the other links. And that nothign that occours in this adventure impacts their adventures. Even if something was changed it wouldnt change the past.

IE - Twilight breaking his shadow crystal wouldnt mean that wild didnt remember having the wolf on his adventure - as its already happened.

(I hope that makes sense. - time travel is confusing i see it as an alternative timeline type thing)

Moving on!

Wild is best brother 101

Also twilight getting flustered about a girl oh bless this man i low key love him okay

Her!

Also

Smiley man

Epona is a wonderful girl and i love her so much okay

Also Warriors!

HE LOOKS SO HAPPY AGAIN

Man got his emotional support scarf and is no longer stressed (Atleast not visably)

HE!

BELOVED AGAIN HE IS SO HAPPY I AM NORMAL ABOUT THIS MAN

okay

Please understand how much i am cackling at the shenanigans of these three.

Wind rolling around because it is clearly faster mode of travel

Go zoomies wind go zoomies!

Wind rolled down the stairs you cant convince me otherwise. Look at his little superhero pose as hes moving around the corner.

Older brother alert, dont ruin the kids fun warriors they are just getting excited about being on the road again.

Also Warriors, This is normal link behaviour. Just ask Time. He would eailsy tell you that he rolled around hyrule field.

I LOVE HIS LITTLE FACE OKAY

MY BELOVED BLORBO 🧍

(if i run out of pictures i swear to hylia)

There's so much brotherly energy in these panels i love them all so much okay.

Also Sky offering to Pay Time back for the Inn Fee this is why i love the wonderful blorbo okay

Guys im sorry, he's their dad. You cant change my mind.

Thats a dad walk, with a dad sentence.

'Okay guys i need to make sure you are not gonna get killed please have swords.'

The blacksmithing gang getting the love they deserve.

Sky leading the charge! (I know its cause he knows the way and stuff But...)

It also makes a lot of sense. If Sky is the slowest of the group(Again not confirmed but we have had jokes about his stamina), it makes sense to put him at the front to maintain pace of the group. Stops people going too fast and prevents people from being left behind.

Which i might add has already happened. (Warriors and Hyrule im looking at you.)

We just need to read the boss partterns for a bit so we can then decide how to fight it. You know, like we did when we were in our adventures and had to figure out boss mechanics.

Important that hyrule is saying this as his game is arguably one of the hardest. He probably spent a long time on each boss learning attack patterns.

Oh this arc was fun! So much fun i love it so much okay

Thank you so much again for hanging out with me while i write these. I love making them and i really appreciate all the support on them. (If you could share it around i'd really appreciate it :) )

Have a wonderful day! :D

[zarvasace]

The last, and probably my current favorites of the bunch: Prince and Mirage, dark Warriors and dark Legend! I keep trying to put the images side-by-side so they don't take up as much room but Tumblr HATES that. Sorry.

My document with all these boys' descriptions on it is over 7k words. Holy heck. Hope you like them. XD Masterpost

More information and art beneath the cut yayyy

Prince

Prince is dark Warriors. 

Cia gave Warriors a lot of unwanted attention, which he spurned. Prince, on the other hand, wouldn't just accept the attention, but would have welcomed it. He wasn't entirely autonomous when he was summoned, but he remembers everything. He knows that he never wants to not be in control of himself ever again.

Instead of championing freedom, however, Prince makes a point of controlling others. If he controls them, they can't control him. Shackle is similar, but they have different methods. While Shackle prefers physical subjugation to be sure they're in his power, Prince uses manipulation. He pretends to be your friend, all the while gaining your trust. His job is made all the easier by his own special talent: Charm. 

Prince’s Charm is a supernatural ability to influence people. Where Madness takes over bodies, Prince sways the mind. His Charm is something he can turn on and off at will, at different intensities. It doesn't work well on any being with too much light, but it does work on criminals or people with guilt and secrets. The other Darks are susceptible to it, though after… an incident… Prince doesn't do it to them. Usually. 

It works like this: Prince identifies his target, which can be an individual or an entire crowd. He turns his Charm on intentionally, and depending on how hard he pushes, his target’s attention is drawn to his face. Because he does not look human, he then has to quickly begin talking, to pour even more Charm on. If he does it right (it does require skill and charisma), the target forgets his appearance is anything out of the ordinary. He needs a minute or two of conversation and rakish smiles to dig his claws deep enough that they don't remember anything unusual once they stop looking right at him. Prince uses his Charm to get information, favors, and generally spread his anti-Link agenda. The riskier or weirder his request is, the more Charm he has to layer on, and some people just straight up won't do some things. The Charm wears off after a while, depending on the target and how long they were exposed to it, which takes anywhere from a few minutes to a few weeks, averaging out at a day or two. 

Prince has to choose his targets wisely, which can be difficult to do because he does not look human and does not have any kind of magical disguise. That last point is a sore spot. He doesn't want a disguise, he just wants people to stop looking at him like he's going to burn their house down, thank you very much. He only has their best interests at heart. Prince is bitter and extremely envious about Warriors winning hearts so easily thanks to his good looks and natural charisma, so Prince does his best to do the same without them. His Charm is better anyway. 

…It's a good thing he hasn't actually been let loose on a population yet. 

(Warriors is a bit of a flirt, but not too badly. Prince makes a game out of trying to make people fall in romantic love with him as fast as he can. (Author’s note: I'm not touching sex. That is not the sort of story I want to tell here.))

Prince doesn't need food, and he doesn't need to breathe, but he does need to use his Charm. Because he magically learns a bit of information about his targets when he's focused on them, his theory is that he leeches from their emotions, or their identities, or something of that sort. He hasn't shared the theory with anyone, but the Dark Chain does know that Prince needs to use his Charm or he starts to get very, very hangry. It's a physical need for him. Of course, pushing too hard or trying to Charm too many people at once gives him migraines. 

Prince considers himself a leader, and it rankles him a bit that Depth is the one in charge. He contents himself with sitting back and letting Depth do all the hard things, though he has Charmed Depth several times into going along with what Prince wants to do. Prince sees Shackle as a sort of protege in the ways of manipulation, and occasionally provides pointers about how to subtly get under people’s skin. Prince and Madness end up working together a lot, since Prince can Charm Madness’s thralls into forgetting they ever lost time, or he can make up memories for them. Sometimes the two of them get migraines at the same time, which spells out lots of “fun” for everyone else. He fights a lot with Mirage and is always trying to catch Agony off-guard to give him a good scrubbing. He's the only reason that Nothing or Dire get baths, too. 

Prince is arrogant and ambitious, yes. He's proud of his appearance and does his best to stay clean and orderly—he doesn't mind the memories of military training that he gets from Warriors, since those routines help him to be efficient. He wears a copy of Warriors’s outfit, but fancier, with a fluffy shirt and a corset on top, and his tunic is purple because (1) it's opposite green on some color wheels and (2) it's the color of royalty. His silvery hair is a little longer than Warriors’s is, and he wears a luxurious red cape.

Sometimes he puts a little too much flair into his moves, but he's proficient with as many weapons as Warriors is, if less practiced. He talks a lot, boasts a lot, and casually jabs where it hurts. He holds a lot of jealousy and hate in his heart, and if he gets a little drunk, he'll go on and on about how much he dislikes Warriors, specifically. 

Prince’s ultimate ambition is to rule his Hyrule as undisputed, beloved emperor. He wants to do that by winning the hearts of every soldier, every servant, every noble. He wants to steal Warriors’s relationships right out from under him without him noticing. Prince knows that he can't rely on his temporary Charm to do that, though, so his plan is to ally with the organizations of traitors throughout Hyrule and add his persuasive charm and Charm to their efforts, eventually rising to become their leader. 

Prince’s best dreams involve him standing over a defeated Warriors on the balcony of the castle, a crown on his head and a queen on his arm (or king. He just thinks stealing Artemis or Impa would make it all the sweeter), with crowds below cheering for him. He has plans to keep the aging Warriors as an honored “guest” in the castle for as long as he lives, doomed to watch his beloved, darkened kingdom flourish under Prince’s ruby eyes. Someday, Prince will change his name to Link, stealing that from Warriors, too. 

Prince Link. Wait, no. King Link. No, even better… Emperor Link. 

Actually, he doesn't like the sound of Emperor. He’ll workshop that title.  

Mirage

Mirage is dark Legend, patterned after the Nightmares that Legend fought on Koholint. He knows Legend will know that immediately. 

Mirage is truly shape-fluid. His form is extremely malleable, though he can't keep up looking perfectly like a human for more than half an hour or so—he starts to melt and revert back to his most comfortable state, which is a close copy of Legend, his matter constantly shifting and dripping and melting. (Most comfortable state, not his true form. Does he have a true form? He doesn't know what it is if he does.) He is best at mimicking nonspecific human forms and small reptiles. He pretended to be a bush once, but wasn't very convincing. 

Mirage’s gooey flesh doesn't have many pain or touch receptors, and he doesn't need any kind of structure beneath the goo to stand up. He's very good at energy dispersion, so punching him means that you're either punching a brick wall or that your fist is getting absorbed. His goo is as warm as flesh and very slightly acidic, so touching him for too long can burn. He doesn't need to breathe, but he does digest organic material or minerals to build on his mass. He's weak against energy-type attacks, like acid or fire or ice, but it doesn't hurt him in the traditional sense and he can always build himself back up. He can drop entirely flat and easily squeezes through small gaps. 

Most traditional dungeon traps do absolutely nothing to Mirage: spike traps don't hurt him, as holes in his form mean nothing; he doesn't really take fall damage, just splatters a bit until he can pull himself together; giant axes that cleave him in two don't actually hurt him, either. There is one small part of Mirage’s matter that is his core. If he gets cut into pieces, the rest of him will shrivel up and evaporate in an hour or two, but his core stays alive and can regrow in a matter of days. If he gets to any cut-off piece before it evaporates, he can reassimilate it. He often messes with his form to take on any physical challenge: looking around corners with an eye on a hand; growing taller to see over a wall; spreading out his feet and legs to float on water; squeezing into cracks in an ice block and expanding in the right spot to make it all shatter. 

Mirage doesn't speak often, preferring to keep quiet. His voice is soft and slithering, with hissing Ss and a pitch that ranges from whispery to shrill. It's the worst voice in the group after Depth’s. He isn't the smartest of the Darks, but he is quite observant and if he does speak up, there's something important to pay attention to. Mirage often just goes with the group decisions, performing whatever role they require, though privately he absolutely resents having to work with anyone else, because Mirage works alone. He doesn't need companions, friends, shopkeepers, or family; he doesn't need vehicles, mounts, money, magic items, or even weapons. When he means alone, he means Very Alone. 

The thing about Legend—despite the masks and attitude he puts on—is that he cares, so so much. He cares about people being happy and safe, he bonds with everyone nice he meets whether he knows it or not, he is self-sacrificing and always working for a better world, even when people don't ask for it. Mirage does not care about much of anything except himself. He would be most content wandering around a mountain, causing a bit of chaos in a nearby town, and using his abilities to traverse impossible paths, especially through caves, just because he can. He doesn't care about the other Darks (that's a bit more of a lie than he thinks it is), he doesn't care about Legend, he doesn't care about covering the world in darkness. He’s just dragged around and knows that they have to finish this stupid mission thing before he can be left in peace. 

Mirage is somewhat fascinated with the way humans work. He's closer to an octopus or other eldritch sea creature himself, and mimics reptilian forms, but the more he learns about humans, the better he can mimic them. He might not care much about many things, but he's curious. He likes to investigate corpses (especially if he can eat them—the Dark Chain’s favorite way of “disappearing” people) and find out new things about their anatomy and chemical compositions, things he knows about and can memorize to reproduce in his own gooey flesh later. As such, he sometimes annoys the other Darks by poking at them or “testing” their senses or limits. 

He gets along best with Lost, who doesn't care much, either, and doesn't get mad at his questions or testing. Mirage responds by taking Lost babysitting duty more than his fair share. (His apathy means he's really patient with Lost and Nothing and Madness.) He makes a good team with Agony, who he sees as very similar to himself, except Agony is clearly more driven. Agony is the quick and sharp counterpart to Mirage’s slow and inevitable destruction. (And it doesn't hurt that Agony is the electricity wielder among them, so if Agony sort of likes Mirage, then all the better.) 

In a normal fight, Mirage is all but indestructible, walking through battle without problems. He doesn't bother attacking until someone hurts him, usually with fire or something similar. Then Mirage will focus to get rid of the threat—and he’s aware that the others expect him to target and take out Legend, so he does that if he has to. He's all but impossible to fight without elemental aid, and while he isn't too quick, he hits HARD and has a lot of tricks up his metaphorical sleeves. 

Still, the fact remains that if you manage to hurt him, you hurt him a lot. Mirage isn't complicated, but he's very flexible and can do things nobody is prepared for. 

(sorry for the low contrast. But hey, my goo-drawing skills are finally relevant! Look at that hat! And the foot!)

[neverchecking]

TotK Link

Okay, I know not everyone has played Tears of the Kingdom, nevertheless finished (I know I haven't), but I just have brainrot that I need to spread.

And I now have the platform to do so >:)

So, of course, Spoilers under the cut!

CW: Yandere, TotK spoilers!

・❥・So, this can go two ways. One, TotK Link is Wild who was taken mid-adventure with the other Links. Or, two, this is an entirely different Link, kind of like Calamity (AoC Link-- there are some great headcanons about him -> Here! Go check them out they are so, so good.).

・❥・I like both ideas! But, let's talk about the second option.

・❥・So, imagine, the chain and Reader are coming through a portal to this new Hyrule. Or, well, they think it's new. It's oddly reminiscent of Wild's Hyrule only...bigger. There are islands in the sky, holes covered in what appears to be malice in the ground. People are more abundant, there are towers standing, glowing a welcoming red rather than the golden towers in Wild's Hyrule.

・❥・It's so different, but yet so familiar.

・❥・Now, it's evident that this Link is a little more...Feral. Look at his hair and tell me otherwise, you can't. This man had won. He had won, gotten his victory over the Calamity and was supposed to have the rest of his life to settle down. But he didn't. It was ripped away from him once more. Not only that, but he was thrown back to square one. Gloom now riddled his veins making him feel like he was newborn fawn stumbling out of the Shrine once more. So he's probably livid. Angry with Hylia and fate, and Ganon and and and-

・❥・He has no patience left to offer.

・❥・Zelda was supposed to have unlocked her sealing powers, no? And she did nothing. Actually, that's a lie. She used them to save herself. He was left dying again and she saved herself. After he destroyed the Master Sword, the only thing that made him anyone, protecting her. Destroyed his arm. Destroyed himself. And she saved herself. Rauru had to protect him. Had to save his life before Zelda did.

・❥・So, yeah, he's a little less...companionable. He had to save someone who wouldn't give two shits about him again. He thought they had improved their relationship, but he guesses not. Betrayal runs deep in his gut, igniting a fiery inferno that burns on spite.

・❥・And the worst part about it? Everyone around him is praising that damned Princess. For the bare minimum. Showing them a recipe, building a school that should've been there years ago, hell, even just having a horse got her praise out the ass.

・❥・He was tired of it.

・❥・People stay out of his way a lot more. He wears a look that promises some form of harm should someone cross him, and he's more than willing to deliver. Because now, it's not just the one land of Hyrule. Now he has to deal with the Sky Islands and the Zonai creations. Now he has to deal with the depths and all of those creatures which just bring back the gloom he dispels. And he's so over it.

・❥・Now, picture if you will, Reader falling through the portal, separated from the chain, scared and alone. Reader thinking they're in Wild's Hyrule, but his doesn't quite look like this, does it? Reader thinking that, hey, at least they're hidden and in a forest, only Oh Sweet Goddess Above-- THE TREES ARE MOVING-

・❥・Reader doesn't know what to do because THE TREES ARE COMING AFTER THEM, they were forbidden from having a weapon (Because why would they be separated ever? They were there to protect their sweet reader? why would they need to burden themselves with a weapon when the Links could fight for their honor?), and THE TREES WERE ATTACKING THEM-

・❥・But, here comes their knight in shining armor- or some sort of blue tunic. Honestly, the tunic was styling if we're being honest; the open back and split sides along the hips? (Iykyk)

・❥・The trees are taken care of easily and the blond is turning to look at reader.

・❥・Reader just knows. "...I'm gonna guess your name is Link?"

・❥・And while on the outside, all he gives is a simple nod, it's anything but simple. You, this gorgeous being that he just so happened upon, recognized him. It seemed that without Zelda parading him about like some show dog for all of Hyrule, people didn't know who he was. but you? You did? You knew who he was? And the way you were staring at him was like you knew what he had done. The sacrifices he had given. And you were thankful and appreciative. Which was all he asked for.

・❥・You then thank him (You THANKED him) for saving your life and explain that you had been separated from your group. (Group? You had a group? And they just...let you out of their sight?) He offers to help you look for them and you eagerly accept.

・❥・Now, he latches onto you pretty quickly. Your already used to all the Link-isms so he isn't much different. The silence, the constantly guarded exterior, your used to all of it. And it just convinces him further that you're perfect for him.

・❥・Eventually the rest of the chain do pop up. But this Link isn't convinced their safe, after all, Ganon could make puppets out of everyone. Whose to say their not puppets or Yiga? It's better to stay with him, can't you see that?

・❥・The chain obviously have a different opinion on the matter, Legend all but Demanding you back. Hyrule and Four try to placate this Link, while Wild, Wind and even Twilight are trying to think of way of just scooping you up and running. Sky and Warriors are trying to barter with this Link (What does he want? Fairies? Potions? Money? They could have it all should he just give you back). Time is the only one to recognize that this is still a Link. He still wants what's best for you. That doesn't mean he trusts him.

・❥・If Fierce Deity and First are int he group at this point, they too are probably either trying to manipulate explain to this Link that they are in fact your aforementioned group or are just barely holding onto the shred of sanity left thats stopping them from simply doing away with this obstacle.

・❥・But this Link, like all Links, is stubborn. Not just a regular stubborn either. He has learned the hard way that if he wants something, he's going to have to fucking cling to it to keep it. And he's not losing you. Eventually they explain the situation after a bit of your pestering and he loosens up, just the slightest, to take in their words. That doesn't mean he lets go though. Oh no, he just lets them meander closer without threatening a flame throwing at them.

・❥・He's sort of indifferent to Wild, I would think, since they're kind of the same person. He was just dealt the shittier hand.

・❥・When asked where Zelda is, he simply points up (Maybe her name is Natura? Idk, I'm uncreative). He does not elaborate. They don't ask him to.

・❥・Now, it's obvious you have just claimed this Link. He's yours. Sorry not sorry. It's just a matter of taking him with you. He's insistent on not leaving your side. The Demon King isn't actually doing anything, other than unleash monsters the people of his land are already familiar with. This is obviously a new threat and he's a Link isn't he?

・❥・In terms of names? Maybe he's the hero of the Zonai because Tears of the Kingdom doesn't really give us much to work with. Maybe they call him both Zonai and Sage. I like Sage, so I'm going with that.

・❥・The way he fights is fast and brutal, delivering hits that dissipate his enemies own mobility before delivering a fatal last hit. He's a unit of a man, probably like Twilight, if not a little smaller. (Have you seen the shit he has to lug around? Mans is built.) Same height as Wild though, just more built.

・❥・As for the type of Yandere he is? He's on you. Constantly. He is hovering over you because anything and everything can be ripped away from him in an instant, as Hylia as so helpfully shown. He is making sure nothing gets the chance to get closer to you. And he's using his new abilities to do so. Wild is probably interested in the abilities and the arm and the tech, since his Hyrule, after Sage's, is the most technologically advanced.

・❥・He's inspecting your food, checking your person every time you disappear out of his sight for a second, snarling at people who attempt to talk to you.

・❥・The group have to keep him in check like an untrained puppy.

・❥・Oh, but how he laps up the attention Reader bestows upon him. He is such a cuddle hog and he knows it, smirking smugly at the others while you hold him close because oh how his arm hurts so badly, didn't you know? Oh, how the gloom has him feeling absolutely rotten, please can he just lay with you for a while? Just until he settles back once more? Pretty please?

Anyway, those are my thoughts for now, feel free to add your own!

[memoiich]

Hey you 🫵🤨

Maul is a complete gentleman around you, you will never have to open a door ever again. You dropped something - don't worry he's picking it up, you need something that you can't reach - you bet your damn ass he is getting it for you.

He is literally the perfect husband...

Modern Husband!Maul and his wife go grocery shopping? And he is just doing everything and being so helpful?

He totally is and i would marry him so quick. Just let me and my man be together please <3

Raspberry’s & Blood oranges

Word count : 1,2k

Ao3: link

Sadly today you had woken up with a desperate desire for blood oranges and raspberries and your husband being who he was , a saint wanted to go to the store to get them . You tried to roll over and sleep a bit more per maul’s request but that didn’t work. So you tagged along to your lover's enjoyment.

That brought you here to the parking lot ,in mauls black Pontiac firebird that he got from savage as a wedding present. He gave you a quick peck on the lips and walked out to open your door . You remembered thinking that from day 1 , Maul was a gentleman. In the beginning, he tried to hide it a little bit. Slamming the door a bit louder than normal when closing it or pulling his hand away when you reached for it . A month later you would kiss him under the stars . You took mauls hand that he had extended to you and stepped out of the car . “ thank you, my love”you said. He gave you that one grin, he was so proud of himself.

You noticed it immediately when you walked into the store . People were staring. At first you thought it was pretty normal, you normally shopped alone and were a bit of a regular . Then you thought it was because Maul was such an attractive guy. if he wasn’t your husband you would hit on him in a heartbeat . That's in fact exactly what you did all those years ago. But then you spotted something in an old lady’s eyes, Judgment. You looked over to your dearest and he grinned back.

The red zebrak in question was way too alternatively dressed now that you were looking at him . He clearly wasn’t used to grocery stores and the way u dress for them . He was wearing one of his favorite band t-shirts that was slightly ripped on the side showing a fair amount of tattoo and waist , you were definitely not complaining about it. On Top of that was his metal spiked leather jacket covered in homemade pins , that hugged him just right. The metal didn’t stop at his clothes either, He also had multiple studs and a nose ring and a very secret and hot tongue piercing. Patches were covering about 90% of his pants and chains were hanging from every loop he could find . He definitely stood out .

It didn’t help that Zebraks were still a bit more uncommon but Maul and his 2 brothers had been living here longer than the 2 of you were together . They even had their tattoo/piercing parlor here. You took Maul's hand in yours and gave her a bit of a judgy look back and she scurried away.

Maker ,your husband was the most beautiful creature alive no judgy looks would ever take that away. You heard an amused giggle coming from your left. “ Normally you aren’t so feisty, my love “ Maul said while grinning at you . You felt a bit embarrassed by Maul's notice. You took one of the blood oranges in front of you , they needed to be as red as possible. You liked them that way . You also took them in hopes of ending mauls joking and getting him back on track for the mission of grocery shopping.

A red hand covered yours and took the red-orangey fruit out of your hand. “ Blood oranges are believed to bring power and wealth to their consumers by the people of Dathomir” Maul said to you with that hint of wisdom to his voice. You took the fruit back from him ,” I need to eat plenty then , in case you divorce me “ you said jokingly. Maul rolled his eyes , he hated that little joke of yours. Not only were you one hell of a person , that could perfectly support herself. He would NEVER divorce you , you were the best thing that happened to him.

While Maul was mopping ,You tried to reach for one of the bag dispensers that were set unreasonably high for you and you weren’t even getting close to it . Maul came up behind you, you felt his chest against your back and saw his long tattooed arm reach for the beg . He had laid his other hand on your hip and you forgot what you were even doing until the man turned you around while dangling the little bag in front of you with that smug look on his handsome face . “You needed this right ?” He spoke so smoothly. You let out a giggle and walked back over to the blood oranges display. You took about 16 oranges and put them in the cart.

You looked over to where your husband had been standing mere seconds ago but he had disappeared in thin air . Glancing past the corner, you saw him standing at the berry bar .you walked over to him , only to be met with Maul staring intensely between a couple of boxes full of raspberries. The annoyance was clear on his face, nightbrothers were know to see colors a bit duller mainly reds and oranges since dathomir would otherwise be a bit overwhelming.

“ Don’t torture yourself, Maul” you grinned “ That's my job” . He looked at you utterly in love “ I was trying to find the reddest”he said, a bit defeated “ Why, are they sweeter?”. Maul knew you liked your fruit sweet “ they are, but that's not why i want the reddest fruit “ “ Then why” You were quite curious right now. “ Dathomirians believe that raspberries strengthen bonds, how redder they are the more romantic they become “ maul uttered a bit embarrassed . You thought it was adorable how your scary looking husband was so soft and sweet .” You don’t need raspberries to strengthen our bond, maul . I love you regardless, my dear “ You grabbed 2 boxes out of the 9 lined in front of him” These are the reddest “ you put them in the cart.

The check out went extremely fast and you and maul were outside in about 5 minutes. You were looking at the masterpiece of a husband you had , you wanted to tell him that you deeply enjoyed the trip to the grocery store and how much you loved him but the rights words wouldn’t come to you and when they finally did…

he said “ you are dearer to me than all the blood oranges and raspberries in the world “ . The exact words you had thought of . Again at a loss of words you just leaned into him and kissed his cheek. Maul flushed a deeper shade of red immediately , which was ironic since you two had been married for more than 5 years and had done a lot more than that. Grocery shopping would definitely become a together thing.

I hope this was what you had in mind , it was a bit hard to make grocery shopping appealing so i made new Dathomir lore up ( i love doing that teehee).

{Masterlist}

[mbirnsings-71]

hello fellow parkciv fans and welcome to my ref sheet of how to draw these guys (ignore the fact EMF is here twice- He's just here to show what my note of "Gold changes based on level!" means) cause RAAAH- I'm also gonna use this as my headcannon post for minor things with their outfits so like if you don't wanna read that I'm just gonna put that in the keep reading section okay okay hope you guys enjoy the art though! also does include spoilers for the second movie so if you're not caught up then uhhhh oops-

design notes time let's go!

Evbo:

Bandaids all over the guy- he has some on his elbows and knees but the elbow ones are always covered by his hoodie. Reason for the bandaids is cause as he got better and better at parkour and progressing the levels the more he would do more defying moves and would have to get hurt at some point from certain jumps or even just having a rough landing onto a block so he gets scraped up pretty bad occasionally.

Halo because he's a god now it just makes sense. Always has a light around said halo and he can turn this on and off but most times forgets to so he just has a glow around his head-

his clothes are pretty baggy on him, like his hoodie is roughly two sizes too big and it's because one, the horrible feeding conditions of being a noob, and two it probably gets cold up in parkour civilization so long baggy sleeves are just better the higher you are. His pants aren't but they are very ripped at the knees from aforementioned rough parkour landings.

Fingerless gloves are for vibes and also incorporating more of the blue small amount of blue

His netherite boots have wings carved into them because I think if you're parkour god you should get the ability to fly occasionally and these boots allow that- I think if Evbo ever does want to fly (which is rarely, man got accustomed to parkouring and he's good at it) the wings do sprout out of the boots just pure hermes winged sandal situation here.

only one with only white pupils out of main three. EMF's eyes are pure white in general, but Evbo is the only one with White pupils that probably when champion turn into diamonds and whenever he's excited they turn into a starry shape. Because he deserves some pizazz!

Very light freckles, incredibly hard to notice when he was a noob cause again horrible eating conditions and the dirt level covering a fair bit of the sunlight a lot and it's not until he actually climbs up in levels that they start to get more and more noticeable. not by a lot but still noticeable.

The shortest of the three and more on the skinnier/not muscly side just because of genetics and again noob level starvation :(

Seawatt:

Kohl around his eyes cause his skin is very reminiscent of ancient Egypt that and also the Parkour fighter level is very sandstone built so it's not the biggest reach. Probably his parents taught him how to do his eye make up.

Chain boots because again parkour fighter society and also they have a little bit of a taller heel (not by a lot but enough to keep him taller than Evbo and so he can still do parkour (even if he's mediocre at parkour already))

The in-between of Height between Evbo and EMF, also has slightly more muscle than Evbo and EMF because it would be silly. Twunk era fr fr-

has "Kneepads" to protect his knees because he's been a master since leveling up and really likes his position in power, so why would he not get himself some protection so he doesn't get hurt. And you can say he has a water bucket so he's not gonna take fall damage but that doesn't apply in the fighter level. There's no water buckets there so this is an investment for his sake.

the cross around his neck is actually a totem of undying, probably just a decorative/fake one or he had used it up before his death by clown pierce, but the point stands that that is what he has around his neck.

so many gold accents to show his status and to be taken seriously in the master level. It's also why he wears a crown to show status and power, because he didn't want to level up but now that he's here he might as well make it everyone else's problem and get some respect.

very much dresses for fashion over practicality and it shows, because Masters can do that. They get the choice to decide if they wanna dress practically or if they wanna test the themes of high fashion. As long as you can parkour in it anything goes.

Very much stuck to a purple color scheme for him so that way we can have Green, Blue, and Purple!! We have all the cool colors now!!

EMF:

That is not a human. No sir. The other two have no idea what he is (if we're being silly they probably thing he's a demon) but if we're talking in DnD Terms I draw him the most like he's a firbolg just because I saw people giving him a tail and I wanted to do that. So by that logic he is very fluffy.

Also by that logic he is very much on the taller and lankier side. Definitely the tallest out of the two and would probably have the height and jumping ability of a dear for vibes.

His gold accents, like Seawatt's, are meant to show his status but his actually change depending on what level he goes to unlike Seawatt's just staying the same. So when he becomes parkour champion all his gold accents become diamond colored for the vibes.

Also because he is the champion now he probably has a very faint glow around his crown because why not! cause in my head being the champion is basically like becoming a demigod so of course his crown is going to become glowy if he's become one but not as bright as Evbo's. EMF doesn't think there's anyone who's light can shine brighter than that guy.

His clothes are more on the form fitting but breathable side. Like his Tunic and shawl-like item are more form fitting while his pants are baggier for comfort. He choses both fashion and practicality on that front!!

He should have chain scars but I forgot to add them in so just pretend they're there pretty please and thank you- I will rectify this mistake when I draw him next.

his white areas tend to glow like stars in the night sky. If you're lucky enough you could probably even make constellations out of the softly glowing white freckles. This also means his blush is white so you can very much tell when he's flustered. Oh this also means his eyes glow and imagine you walk into his house in the middle of the night and you see nothing but two bright white eyes staring at you I would lose it- I would swear herobrine was coming for me on god.

There are differences between his gold and diamond boots I swear I just haven't drawn them because I liked my og sketch so much I didn't wanna alter it :( But next time when I draw him as champion I'll make a point to show the differences between gold and Diamond boots.

And I think that's all I wanted to mention so uhhhhhhhhh yeah if any of you actually read these that's cool!! Thank you for reading my silly thoughts that have been stuck in my brain!!