#I can't even coherently write tags

[niuxita21]

One day I’m gonna write a book. Can you imagine? A novel about everything that you and I have gone through? [Mariana laughs] It would be called “Ana and Mariana.” We’re going to be free soon, and we’ll be able to reinvent ourselves. So I’m sure you’re gonna write that book, and it’s gonna be awesome. We’ll see what happens. We have to let things flow, right? I think your novel is gonna be one of those that are pretty dark. Maybe one of those that are so romantic that you can’t put them down?

[mosspapi]

I can't tell if I'm just having a massive costo flare or if I've actually dislocated and/or cracked my ribs somehow.

I know I need to ask my parents abt it but I had a massive argument with my mother about it earlier today because apparently the reason I have chronic pain is because I don't take Advil (absolute bullshit on many levels and she knows this but she refuses to admit when she doesn't know something), so I don't want to have to deal with her again but also I don't want to leave this if it IS a bigger issue ya feel.

Like it feels like just a really bad flare, but they don't normally last for 3+ days in a row, 24/7, at the "sharp, hard-to-breathe, plus aching, plus reduced mobility" level. That type of flare usually lasts at most a couple of hours. So I'm concerned it's a bigger issue than that, but I'm also paranoid about health things so idk if I'm overreacting ya feel?

[doom-dreaming]

you know, the biggest frustration i have is that denning takes a perfectly functional spartan team and, quite literally, handicaps them into being kids with guns who need a babysitter in order to faciliate an entire series of books about them needing a babysitter. not to get too into it before i Get Into It(tm) but. if you can't write realistic interactions for characters without changing who they are, then you're doing it wrong. in this essay i will-

good news: the characterization analysis i'm writing is longer than the snowball fight fic

bad news: ^ + i'm only about a third of the way finished with it

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Untitled

Author's Note: Not requested of me specifically, but I did promise to write a lil something something featuring Michi and rougher sex. So, here it is!

Pairings: Takemichi x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Takemichi, rough sex, dacryphilia, pillow princess Michi, dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation

Tagging: @wazabii @hxpel3s5-slxxt (if you'd like your tag removed please lmk!)

“Aah-!” Another shrill scream bounces off the walls of his bedroom, proceeded by a sharp slap.

Your ragged panting is barely audible over the sound of your hips beating Takemichi's ass — his skin turning an even deeper shade of pinkish red with every collision.

“Fuck, haha... look at you, baby,” you rasped, “look at you taking me nice 'n deep like that. I told ya you'd be able to handle this dick.”

The words didn't quite make it past his lips, instead turning into a whimper that tumbled out when Takemichi tried to protest. He's always so coy — "nooo it won't fit! You're way too big!" he'd say, despite the fact that you regularly wreck his holes. I mean, yeah, you were pretty thick down there, but your partner has proven time and time again that that's not much of a problem.

Even now, as his nails dig into his sheets and tears stain them, Takemichi's walls grip you like a vice; pulling your cock further inside with every motion. And the way his once coherent speech turns into babbles, all because you're rearranging his insides? Priceless.

“Ah fuck-! Mm yeah, take it, baby. Take daddy's cock-” It's all the little slut can do to keep his hips up in the air; his legs may as well have become jelly at this point with the way his thighs shake when you pull back — nearly pulling out — then snap back as if there's some magnetic pull between you two.

Your little pillow princess is full-on sobbing as his teeth grind against the fabric of his sheets. Yet another slap to his ass and Takemichi somehow cries harder, getting choked on his own spit.

Meanwhile, you have been holding back, desperate not to cum just yet so that you can stay inside your lil princess for a while longer. But that ache deep inside of you has only built up, exacerbated by Takemichi's tight hole wrapped around your dick. If only he didn't feel so fucking good, then maybe tonight could last a little longer...

“Gonna fuckin' cum... Hah... Where does my little whore want it, huh?”

No response. Only a drawn out whine where Takemichi's face is buried in the mattress.

You can't stifle the laugh that comes out of your mouth. “Inside it is, then. Ngh-!”

With a few more deep thrusts, you finally explode inside your partner — gushing white, hot ropes that fill him up as you grab a handful of his hair and push his head down further, cutting off the pathetic thing's oxygen for a moment.

“O-ooh shit... haha... damn, baby, you took everything I had, didn't ya?” You tease, exhaling the breath you'd held in during your climax.

Your hands slid down your darling's back, moving towards his hips to rub soothing circles on the skin, then roaming over more of his smaller body — Takemichi's breathing steadies as you do this, gradually calming down until his muscles release their held tension. After a moment, you pull out, leaving your partner's hole gaping, as you usually do, and leaking a fat glob of your cum.

Rolling over onto his side, Takemichi searches for your hand; which you happily oblige him, and meet his touch. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles and you lean down to kiss them before laying down next to him.

“You ok?”

He nods. “Mhm... felt really nice...”

A smile spreads across your face as you watch him blink lazily; best to help him over to the bathroom before he falls asleep, or before you fall asleep, for that matter. And after you're both cleaned up and relaxed, you'll have a little rest together.

Before you roll over and out of his bed, you place a tender kiss on Takemichi's forehead, giggling along with him.

[wonderlandwalker]

He Knows Better | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick tells himself not to get close to you, because what is the point? But when you survive your games he finds that he can't stop thinking about you. When he finally comes to see you, you're in pieces, and he swears to himself he will put you back together, no matter the costs. Find part 2 here: Should've Known

Content Warnings/Tags: Mentions of prostitution/sex trafficking, angst, Finnick deserving better, crying, bad representation of a panic attack, not proofread

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested by Anon: I loveeeee love love love your Finnick fic. It was the perfect mix of sweet and so angstyyyyy !! I'm having constant Finnick brainrot 😭 I was wondering what you think about writing a finnick × reader fic sort of loosely based on Hozier's "It Will Come Back" where reader is maybe a tribute or another Victor and the first person to show Finnick softness and kindness without asking for anything in return in so long and he's like "dont let me in with no intention to keep me" and "dont be kind to me" and he just is totally feral and obsessed with the reader ? You're such a talented writer !! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: There is this Dutch expression which goes ‘the monkey comes out of the sleeve’ loosely meaning the hidden meaning is revealed and I couldn't for the life of me think of the English equivalent that made sense to me, so, well, I hope the story is coherent. As usual, divider by @saradika

He remembers first seeing you, you were so young, but to be fair, so was he. In previous years he had always become quick friends with the tributes he was supposed to mentor, how could he not? But it didn't take him long to figure out that they never made it back, and while the company was nice for a while, the hurt in the end wasn't worth it anymore. There's something about you that he can't quite place, but it doesn't matter, because he's not going to get attached. When you first stepped into the training hall you didn't look scared, you didn't even look excited, no, you looked like you had made peace. 

He didn't get to talk to you much, you spend most of your training with Mags, not learning how to fight, but learning how to survive. And every time he watched you, he watched how your eyes lit up when learned how to filter water, he watched how proud Mags was of you each time. And he felt something tugging at him, he felt a need to get to know you. But he knew better.

Because what were the odds, he had seen this before, he had done this before. No, he shouldn't get attached to you. And yet, for the first time after returning from his own, he found himself watching the games. Watching the tributes become fewer and fewer, hoping, praying, that you'd make it through. The fewer left the more desperate he became. You've gotten this far, don't let the luck run out just yet. He saw how your last opponent fell, and he saw your face in the centre of the screen, of virtually every screen. And once again, you didn't look excited, you looked like you had found peace again, and maybe, just maybe, he let himself believe he could too, that you could show him. 

He didn’t go see you after, it wouldn't be of any use. What more did he have to offer you, you did not need a mentor anymore. He had made peace, he had made peace with never seeing you again. So what was the difference if you were alive or not? That's what he thought, if he gave in now, he didn't think he'd ever be able to let go, it would keep coming back. 

It wasn't until a few months later when someone knocked on his door, and in a sleepy haze, he opened it without thinking. He had spent the night at the capitol, and he never managed to get much rest after. Usually, when he had been gone for the night, Mags would come to check in on him, and have Valerian tea with him. He doubted it actually worked, but the effort was enough to brighten his day. So he opened the door, but it wasn't Mags, it was you. Your face was fuller, it had more colour, but the bags under your eyes were still there. Would Mags bring you Valerian tea as well? No, no he needed to stop thinking about you. The last time he had actually seen you was when you won. He had forced himself to avoid you ever since, he hadn't been completely sure why anymore, but now he knew again. The way you looked at him gave him hope, hope he couldn't afford. “What do you want” he asked, he sounded upset, and in a way he was, but the way the sparkle in your eyes dimmed made him regret it. 

And so he opened the door further, stepping aside, and you didn't need more of an invitation before you walked in. You took a seat at his small kitchen table, and he decided it would be impolite not to join you, so he sat down as well. He was about to talk, but you beat him to the punch.

“Snow came to see me.” There is was he thought, the reason, everyone always had a reason. Still, he found himself allowing you to continue, wanting to hear your voice again, even if it brought bad news. 

“I talked to Mags about it, but she said I should come see you, so here I am.” You chuckled, but the situation was not something that asked for it, must be nerves, he thought, but why were you nervous, surely he didn't make you nervous. 

“Look, I don’t want to bother you with my problems Finnick, I know you're dealing with enough yourself, but I don’t know what else to do.” Your eyes glossed over, and you looked like you were about to start crying, but you didn't. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but what was there to say? And so you two sat in silence, he was looking at you, he was memorizing your face. This was the last time he would let himself see you. He didn't want to get close to you, and with how mesmerizing you were to him, he knew better.

And yet, as days passed, he found himself thinking of you. Whenever he needed comfort, he thought of you, the way you smiled at him when he told you a nervous joke. He could get lost in the memory of your eyes, and more often than not, he did. Every day he spent without seeing you made his heart hurt. 

Without thinking, he found himself walking to your door. It was like he wasn't in control of his own feet. He was in constant agony with himself. He wanted to be with you, but your kindness was one he couldn't afford, because it had the power to break him. He knocked on your door, not even aware he was doing so until he heard the sound echo back to him. He heard rustling, but he didn't hear you approaching the door, so he knocked again, and for good measure, he decided to call out. “Y/n? It’s me, it’s Finnick”. He heard someone approach the door at that, and a little bit of hope sparked inside him that you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you, but he knew better. 

The door opened, but it wasn't you that he came face to face with, it was Mags. She was standing in your hallway with a sad smile on her face, and she didn't say anything, but she looked to the stairs on the right end corner. He didn't need any more encouragement, and he sped up them, taking two steps at a time. He knocked on the door he was in front of, but there wasn't an answer. But when he listened more closely, he could hear crying coming from the other side. You were crying. His mind was reeling with possibilities, but whatever it was that had caused this, he swore to himself he would fix it, even if it broke him. 

And so he entered the room, opening the door softly so as not to startle you, but it didn't matter. He saw you in the corner, you had pulled your knees to your chest and he couldn't see your face from where you had hidden it, but his heart broke over it nonetheless. He walked towards you, testing the waters, testing his luck. He was scared for you, but mostly, he was scared you wouldn't want to see him. When you heard him, your head shot up to look at him. The way in which your eyes were bloodshot and swollen made him want to punch a hole in the wall next to you. The way your voice cracked when you said his name made him want to curl up right next to you. he got closer to you, kneeling down in front of you. Allowing you to take the next steps on your own time.

After a few minutes, you had slightly calmed down while he was tracing patterns on your knee with his thumb. You spoke to him, but you didn't look him in his eyes.

“They’re bidding on me Finnick, they’re bidding on me like I’m something to possess”

The feeling of dread that came over him was something he had never felt before. He thought he had gone through all someone could. He thought there was nothing that could hurt him anymore in a way he didn't already, but he had been wrong. 

He was willing to do anything for you to be spared from this, but he knew it wasn't any use. 

He knew better. And so he did all he could, taking you in his arms and whispering reassuring words, until your crying and your shaking stopped, and you seemed at peace again. 

He had tried himself to get away from what snow had wanted, what the capitol had wanted, he tried everything he could think of, but he couldn't get away from it. He had made peace with the fact that people always wanted something from him, and maybe that's why he couldn't get you out of his head, because you were the only person that was at peace with him, without anything more, just him. So he told you the only thing he could. He told you he’d be there for you, that you’d get through it together. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he knew it was what you needed to hear, it was what he had needed to hear, except there had been no one to tell him. He would spend the rest of his life wondering if you needed him.

But he won't shut you out again, he knows better.

Part 2: Should've Known

[anna-the-undertaker]

The Boys reaction to a Blue Collar Worker MC who was summoned to the Devildom in nothing but a towel...

I finally did this after so long.... Idk whats happening but I've been on a writing kick recently so we will see how you all like my writing I guess lmao also we are ignoring how mammon wasn't in the room when MC arrives in game cause I'm lazy.

Tags: @lurkingblue @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

part 1

Lucifer

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight before him. A human, fresh out of a bath and barely coherent, standing in the heart of the Devildom, had the audacity to speak in such a manner. The request for clothes, food, and rest was delivered with a bluntness that bordered on insolence. Normally, he wouldn't tolerate such disrespect, especially not in Diavolo's presence. Lucifer prided himself on order and discipline, and this human's arrival was anything but. He could feel his patience thinning, a not so rare occurrence that he worked hard to suppress. This was the human chosen by Diavolo? His expression remained impassive, but the air around him grew colder as he spoke. "You are in no position to make demands, human. Consider yourself fortunate that Lord Diavolo is more generous than I."

How he looks back on it now: Lucifer, sitting with a glass of Demonus in hand, would let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I still can't believe that was our first impression of them. Summoned to the Devildom in a towel, dripping water all over the floor like they owned the place. And then—then—they have the audacity to demand food, clothes, and a bed as if they were checking into a five-star hotel. I knew from that moment that MC would be nothing but trouble... and I wasn’t wrong.”

Mammon

Mammon, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement, couldn’t help but let out a bark of a laugh. This human was something else. Appearing in the middle of the Devildom, demanding food and a place to sleep like they owned the place? Mammon could almost admire that kind of guts, if it wasn't so ridiculous. But he was also intrigued. They were obviously tired and out of their depth, but there was a spark of defiance in them that piqued his curiosity. "Hey, hey, maybe we should cut ‘em some slack, yeah? Look at ‘em, they’re about ready to keel over. Not exactly how I pictured meetin’ a human though…"

How he looks back on it now: Mammon would be laughing, practically doubled over. “Ya shoulda seen Lucifer’s face! He was so mad, but he didn’t know what to do! And then there’s MC, barely awake, tellin’ us off like we were the ones who interrupted their shower! They’re a riot, I tell ya. I knew right then and there—this human was gonna be somethin’ special.”

Leviathan

Leviathan blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was seeing. This was supposed to be the human exchange student? This tired, wet mess of a person who was talking like they had just walked into a convenience store? Levi was torn between feeling embarrassed for them and being mildly impressed by their nerve. But mostly, he just felt awkward. He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding direct eye contact, his facing burning with a fierce blush as he searched for something to hide behind. "This is so… weird. Like, who even does that? Walking into a place like this… in a towel? It’s like something out of a bad anime."

How he looks back on it now: Levi would be blushing, trying to hide behind his manga. “I mean, it was like something out of an anime, right? The clueless protagonist just casually demanding things from these powerful beings… it’s straight out of a ‘reverse isekai’ plot! But honestly, I was too busy being embarrassed for them to laugh at the time. Now, though? It’s kind of hilarious. They just… stood there, barely dressed, like it was no big deal!”

Satan

Satan observed the human with a critical eye. The situation was strange, even by Devildom standards, but it also presented an interesting puzzle. Who was this human to speak so boldly? They were clearly exhausted, pushed to their limits, but there was something almost… primal about their directness. It was as if survival instincts had taken over. "Interesting. They’re either incredibly brave or too exhausted to care about decorum. I wonder how long they’ll last here if this is how they start."

How he looks back on it now: Satan would smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I admit, I didn’t expect a mere human to have the nerve to make demands right after being summoned. It was… refreshing, to say the least. I could see the frustration in Lucifer’s eyes, and I knew I was going to enjoy having MC around. They didn’t bow down in fear—they just wanted a nap. Brilliant.”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus couldn’t help but giggle, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. This human was definitely not what he had expected. They were dripping water everywhere, their hair clinging to their skin, and yet, instead of being mortified, they were making demands. It was almost endearing in its own way, like a lost kitten mewling for attention. "Oh my, aren’t you just precious? But darling, if you’re going to make demands like that, at least do it with a bit more flair. Still, I think we can find you something more… suitable to wear or you could just lose the towel all together."

How he looks back on it now: Asmo would be giggling, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. “Oh, it was such a scandal! A human, in a towel, dripping wet in front of everyone! And yet, they had this… effortless confidence. It was kind of hot, honestly. And their skin looked amazing—I was so jealous! I just knew I had to befriend them. Anyone who can pull off an entrance like that is someone I need to know!”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s concern was immediate but simple. The human was obviously tired and hungry, and those were things he could easily understand. He frowned slightly, glancing around the room as if expecting someone to step in and help. "They should eat something. And rest. They said they’re about to pass out. We can figure everything else out after."

How he looks back on it now: Beel would nod thoughtfully, his focus split between the memory and whatever snack he’s holding. “I just remember being really confused… and hungry. They said something about food, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I could go for a snack too.’ But they didn’t even seem scared, just tired and hungry. I get that. We connected on a deep level that day.”

Diavolo

Diavolo, on the other hand, was more fascinated than anything else and couldn't help the booming laugh that escaped him. The human’s arrival, so raw and unfiltered, was not what he had planned, but it was a glimpse into their true character. He appreciated the honesty in their exhaustion and the way they set boundaries despite being in an unfamiliar and likely frightening situation. "Welcome to the Devildom," he said warmly, his voice cutting through the tension. "We will, of course, ensure you are taken care of. Rest first, and we’ll discuss everything else when you’re ready."

How he looks back on it now: Diavolo would laugh heartily, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, that was classic! I thought we were about to welcome our human exchange student with a grand, royal introduction. You know, something to set the tone! And then… poof! In they come, in nothing but a towel, demanding food and a nap! I couldn’t help but admire their spirit—who else would have the audacity to make demands of a demon lord? Honestly, I knew right then that they were going to make things very interesting around here.”

Barbatos

Barbatos watched with his usual calm demeanor, though his mind was already calculating what would be needed to accommodate this unexpectedly demanding guest. He was intrigued by their bluntness, a trait not often seen in someone so new to the Devildom. "It seems we have our work cut out for us. I’ll prepare something for them to wear and eat. This situation, unusual as it is, can be addressed once they’ve had the rest they need."

How he looks back on it now: Barbatos would smile subtly, a hint of amusement in his usually composed demeanor. “It was certainly… unexpected. I remember thinking, ‘Ah, this is going to be a challenge.’ I had prepared everything for a formal welcome, and suddenly I was considering where I could find suitable clothing on such short notice. But what really stood out was their confidence. They weren’t intimidated at all—just tired. It was almost endearing, in a way. Though I must admit, I’ve never had to prepare a royal feast for someone who was dripping on the floor before.”

The other characters after hearing of MC's dramatic arrival later -

Belphegor

Belphegor, still hidden away, was not present to witness the scene firsthand, but the way the human handled their introduction would later reach his ears. He would find it amusing, this tired human, dragged into a world they couldn’t possibly understand and still demanding rest. It would have made him laugh, perhaps even endeared them to him in a strange way, though he’d never admit it. “I think it's hilarious. They were so focused on getting some sleep, just like me. Honestly, I'm impressed. I don’t even care that they're human. Anyone who prioritizes a nap over everything else has their priorities straight in my book.”

Simeon

Simeon would laugh softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, MC. Only you could be summoned into a realm of demons in nothing but a towel and somehow manage to make demands! I can just imagine the look on Lucifer’s face. It’s impressive—you're like a stubborn ray of sunshine cutting through the darkest clouds. I’d love to have seen it!”

Luke

Luke would be flabbergasted, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and indignation. “They were summoned like that? That’s so unfair! I bet they were freezing! Who does that? Demons, apparently! But you know what? Good for them for telling those demons off! That’s what they deserve for being so unprepared. If I were there, I would’ve given them a piece of my mind too!”

Solomon

Solomon would be grinning, clearly amused by the whole scenario. “That’s classic MC—turning a moment of complete chaos into one where they’re the one calling the shots. I can just picture them standing there, dripping water all over the floor, and casually telling the future King of the Devildom that they need a nap. Honestly, it’s moments like this that make me glad I chose them as my apprentice. They’ve got the kind of audacity that most people can only dream of!”

Rapheal

Raphael, known for his serious demeanor, would hear about MC’s first arrival to the Devildom and probably raise an eyebrow, trying to picture the scene. "So, they appeared in a towel and demanded food and rest? Bold. Very bold." After a pause, he’d add with a rare smirk, "They might survive down here better than I thought."

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles, with his aristocratic air, would be caught between disbelief and amusement. “They really told Lucifer and Diavolo off in a towel? If only I could’ve seen that! The looks on their faces must’ve been priceless. Perhaps I’ll write a column about the ‘indecent’ summons of the human exchange student!” He’d chuckle at his own joke, imagining the uproar it would cause.

Thirteen

Thirteen, with her mischievous streak, would find the whole thing hilarious. “They really popped in like that? A towel, dripping water, and told everyone to get their act together? That’s brilliant! I would’ve loved to see everyone’s reaction. I bet Lucifer’s face turned fifty shades of red. I like this human already—got some real spunk!” She’d laugh, already planning some pranks inspired by the story.

[sodavizz]

I Own You.

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This is part two. Part one is here > ★

Pairings. - Vox x gn!reader.

Summary. - You sell your soul to Vox, but he wants something in return of course; Your body.

(Disclaimer! – 18+ content, mdni. What content you consume is not my problem. Characters that I will write do not belong to me, and rightfully belong to Vivziepop.)

TW. - Vox being a total perv, obsessions, dirty talk, swearing, ooc Vox?, pure smut, creampies.

AN. - This is the last part. I'm not gonna write more parts lol. Still trying to figure out how to do this shit ❤

Word count: 432 words...

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Ever since you sold your soul to him. You started to work at Voxtech, of course. And every time you do something very well, he makes sure to give you a reward.

Vox makes sure to take full advantage of this, by bending you over any chance he could do so. You're busy doing something? He's pulling you to a nearby storage closet. Doing nothing in your room? He's pulling up to your room, spending the whole night with you being his personal cum dump, to the point you could barely walk. Just woke up? Easy, morning sex.

He makes sure you both have done every position he could think of. Cowgirl, missionary, against the wall, doggystyle, and even at his office most times. He's terrified that someone might hear you both, especially the other Vees. So he makes sure to lock the doors securely and keep you quiet.

———

"S-sir..." You said as it's the only coherent word you could blurt out, as Vox pistons into your sensitive hole. Besides your tired moans, the lewd sound of flesh smacking against flesh is all that can be heard within his room. You've been going on for a couple of hours but he’s so pussy drunk he can’t think straight. All he wants is to feel you around his cock... You wouldn't let him stop, would you...?

Well of course you can't stop him after the deal you both made. Not like you want him to. You love the feeling of the demon assorting his dominance over you and fucking your brains out every night. So here you are, with Vox slamming his hips into yours like its the last time he could do so. Hitting your sweet spot with every thrust as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Fuck. You feel so damn good.” He grunts as he leaned down to give you a rough kiss on your lips. His thrusts become sloppier as he gets closer to reaching his climax. “Oh Vox- Sir! P-please make me cum...” Your desperate pleas were all it took to push to his peak, shooting hot streaks of cum straight into your insides. You follow suit as you come for what you think is the th time already.

"Hah... Need more of you.." He groaned before starting to pound into you again. "Just need to... feel you for a bit longer... Damn, your fucked out face is getting me all riled up again. You’re tired, baby? I'm sure you could handle one more round.." He said before he starts going faster.

This is gonna take a while.

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Tagged: @it-gal888

[skele-bunny]

Anything Swissalps please!!

Rubs my grimey little hands together

(obligatory tag for @hypnoneghoul !)

Mountain doesn't really like the caterpillars and worms on his plants in the room, but knows they're very much needed. He's started to get used to them more bc Swiss names them and it's kinda their thing.

"Martin is fuckin' chowing down on this vera right now..."

"I thought Martin eats the peonies?"

"No that's his twin brother Jake."

"Oh.."

Speaking of the plants!!! Swiss is VERY accustomed to them. His stand in Mountain when they aren't there. Always super reactive and love Swiss so so so much. They love holding him, helping him with tasks in the room, and just making sure he's okay. Swiss used them for... Self pleasuring reasons and literally only a minute in before Mountain stumbled in with the biggest hard on ever. He then learned that day that, yes, Mountain can feel and know everything the vines are doing/receiving.

Mountain who courts Swiss with wreaths and bones, flowers delicately picked and meaningful, and even down to foraging for him. Swiss who doesn't know how to court besides quintessence, but it just doesn't feel right. So he does what he does best!! Makes a song for Mountain!! It's kinda an air/water thing, but it's so specifically him that it doesn't really need an elemental label.

I'm sharing part of my hibernation Mountain propaganda and y'all are dealing with it. Mountain is GONE during the winter and Swiss is his hibernation mate even tho he doesn't really sleep like Mounty does. Lottt of grooming, breeding, and feeding as Mountain is running purely on instincts and can't really form coherent thoughts outside of those instincts. He just knows "my mate needs to eat." "my mate doesn't smell like me and I need to fix that internally and externally." Swiss doesn't mind it as he's still able to get up and move around, sometimes leave the room for quick trips to the kitchen and back. Swiss usually curls up on Mountain's torso and he's held sooo tenderly by this big furry beast. He LOVES it.

Mountain wears glasses but he loses them a LOT. Swiss always has an extra pair on him just in case which has come in handy multiple times. Swiss always demands them back once Mountain is done using them. "I'm not letting you lose the only backup pair you have, dork."

Big boy is embarrassed about wanting to be topped, but ohhh Swiss knows. He knows. Loves putting Mountain in the most submissive positions like doggy, missionary, or a mating press, but fuck does Mountain love it. He loves feeling smaller for once, loves watching his yin on top of him just whispering the most embarrassing things you could ever think of.

I've talked about Mistress Judas a few times, Swiss' bdsm persona, but... With Mountain? Ohh at her feet for anything she says. She makes him feel stupid. Weak. Lower. Small. It's what he wants and needs, and she's more than happy to provide. Big on breath play, boot play, and her whip. Best aftercare in the world, and Mountain wouldn't have it any different as he's massaged and given such tender kisses, words, and affections.

Mountain who sees Swiss as his art form—as art itself. As yin and yang. As everything right in the world. Something something, he's so dumb in love he can't think and just writes all of his love frustration on paper and hands it to Swiss who keeps them safe in a folder he reads through a lot.

Something something they're so in love it's sickening.

[sicklyworm]

Hi yes I would like to hear your thoughts on Shang Qinghua and his characterization (both in canon and in fanfic). I've always really enjoyed the fics with the like,, BAMF!Shang Qinghua tag, but i also can't decide if his cowardice is an act or not, if that makes sense? Or if it's a bit of both.

Oh my gosh thank you for this ask. Please forgive me anon for the absolute rant that's about to happen because of it!!!

I'm going to break down this ask into chunks so properly and thoroughly answer every part of it!

Starting with,

SQH's cannon characterization:

I spent several hours trying to type out a good yet manageable description of his characterization but I found that no matter how hard I try it's a bit too long for a reasonable Tumblr post.

So instead of just ditching this like a normal person I instead started on a essay going over Shang Qinghua's characterization with quotes and analysis!

At the moment of posting it is not currently completed but I'll make sure to reblog this post with the link to the document once it's done!

Now moving on to,

SQH's characterization in fanfiction:

I'm an avid fanfiction reader myself so I see a plethora of different authors writing different arcs for SQH so obviously he's going to act differently in each one.

The thing I think makes or breaks alot of fanfiction with him is whether the author can properly distinguish between their voice and his. As a highly relatable character a lot of us writers can have a pretty hard time distinguishing him as a character from ourselves! When this happens writers can accidentally take bits and pieces of themselves that don't quite match up with him and kind of force them into the characterization of him!

There's also like the cases of hyperfeminization or character bashing but I feel like those are more of a generalized problem then something SQH specific.

Next is,

Is SQH actually a coward or was it just an act?

This question was one I wrestled with quite a bit when I was first starting to dissect his character.

He plays dead and grovels easily when he feels threatened yet displays tremendous courage when it has to do with MBJ. Whether it be saving MBJ from falling to his death or from MBJ'S own uncle, he is necessarily putting himself in danger just for the safety of someone else.

These behaviors by definition conflict with SQH being a coward but It still feels incomplete to just say "he's not a coward case closed." Because he does act incredibly pathetically at times and has betrayed quite a few people!

So after a bit more deliberation I came to the conclusion that "his coward status is determined by his personal connection towards the subject"

If the subject is not close to him or his heart then it is completely subjected to all of SQHs shady and cowardly tendencies. Even if the subject is kinda close to him I believe these cowardly behaviors will definitely cut back some but under enough threat he will ultimately choose his own personal safety.

But in the case he has a deep emotional connection to the subject he seems willing to show tremendous courage and bravery in order to protect said subject.

Example of this playing out in cannon is:

The Sect - low emotional attachment = full rat bastard mode.

Shen Yuan - mid emotional attachment = normal level of courage but will cave under pressure.

Mobei-jun - high motional attachment = huge levels of courage that won't cave under pressure.

✧✧✧

Extra:

My ADHD was going off the rails with this post so I have no idea how coherent it is.

Anyways i am also a big fan of the BAMF!SQH tag and would love if you dropped off some recommendations in my ask box!

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Something completely unhinged with Euronymous please 😭 like the reader riding and overstimulating him until he's crying and his orgasms are dry 🥺

Safe a horse, ride your black metal boytoy 🤠

Deathcrush

Summary: Looks like Euronymous gets really sensitive when overstimulated.

Pairing: Euronymous x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Content Warnings: Trve Kvlt Smvt 18+!, Bondage, Unprotected P In V, Overstimulation, Crying, Begging, Affectionate Degradation, Wax Play, Forced Orgasm, Implied Aftercare

A/N: Time to piss off some elitist, gatekeeping edgelords 😌🫡

Disclaimer - I want to make it abundantly clear that I am not writing about the real Øystein Aarseth. I am writing about the fictionalized version of Euronymus portrayed by sexyman Rory Culkin, please and thank you!

Tagging the gender neutral hoe squad:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @alalalaaallaaalaaa @star-milk-tea @milsthouqhts @roryculkinsbf @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @b4sementgrl

"Ma'am, stop, please! Please, I'm begging you! I can't…", Euronymous whimpered into the candle-lit bedroom, "It's too much, please!"

His wrists pushed and pulled against black rope that you had used to carefully tie him up against the head of the bed frame.

The rope most certainly added a nice, aesthetic touch to the view in front of you. His pale, nearly chalk-white skin against the black forming a contrast pleasing to the eye as you sat on top of him, his achingly hard cock buried deep inside of you as you rolled your hips against his crotch.

"Oh, I think you can take more, sweety.", You didn't stop in your movements as you smiled down on him, droplets of sweat covering his forehead and his eyes practically pleading unto you, "You've been so good for me so far and you don't want to upset me, do you, Euronymous?"

"No, of course not, Ma'am. But.." His raspy voice broke as you clenched down around him, making him twitch involuntarily.

"But what, baby, huh? Use your words." You teased with slightly arched brows.

"It's too much, please. I just need a little break, pretty please!" He pressed out of trembling lips.

"A little break, hm? Is my little fucktoy feeling sore? Worn out from Ma'am riding you all night long, yeah?" For a few thrusts, you picked up the pace, waiting for him to answer.

"Yeah, yes, fuck, Ma'am, please! Just a little break!" He mewled, almost unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Okay, granted. A small, little break you shall have…" With that you halted in your movements, a devilish grin spreading across your face, because you'd certainly give him his break but only on your conditions.

"Thank you, thank you so much, Ma'am." Euronymous gasped, his chest heaving up and down with every raggedy breath.

"Of course, baby. What kind of Ma'am would I be if I wasn't listening and taking good care of my property, hm?", You let the palm of your hand wander over his defined chest, nails scratching softly, playfully, "You know I really like your chest, don't you? It's so pretty but I think we could make it even more beautiful."

Withholding a laugh, you watched his brows furrow in confusion, his facial expression turning from sheer overstimulation to questioning.

"C-could we?" He looked at you with widening eyes.

"Oh, yeah! Let's just take this candle right here…", You leaned to the side to grab one of the many candles from the nightstand and let it hoover above his chest, "And let's add some color to that nice, soft skin of yours."

With a carefully watching gaze, you tilted the red candle gently until little drops of melted wax tripped over the edge right onto his chest.

Euronymous hissed upon impact, the liquid turning back into a solid on his skin.

"Oh, that's pretty! You know, I'm feeling a bit inspired right now…" You grinned to yourself as you slowly started to drip the wax in the rough shape of an upside down pentagram onto him.

With each droplet he squirmed and squealed underneath you, actively moving himself inside of you again.

"That's not fair…" Euronymous whined, his eyes fluttering shut as the pain from the hot wax and the ongoing overstimulation triggered every nerve to fire.

"You're moving now, baby. I'm just giving you that break you wanted to have so bad." Your tone saccharine-sweet as you talked down on him like that.

"No, no, you're making me!" He sniffled, the first hot, few tears of helplessness gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, no, I don't think so. That's your needy cock thrusting into me right now and deep down you know that you just need to cum for me again." You taunted him in a soft tone.

"N-no!", His voice was sore and shaky as you continued to drip wax onto his chest, "I can't…I can't cum again, please."

"Nuh-uh.", You shushed, "We both know that you can, babe."

After you finished your burgundy red work of art on his body, you placed the candle back onto the nightstand. Resting on top of him, your cunt provocatively clenching and throbbing around his cock, you attentively watched heavy tears roll down the sides of his face as an avalanche of gibberish spilled out of his mouth.

"No, no, please, no. I can't do this, no, please. I'm so sore, Ma'am, please. I can't cum again, please. There's nothing left, I-" He sobbed under his breath as you picked up the pace again, rolling and rocking your hips against his lap, his cock thrusting into you in languid strokes.

"But why are you so fucking hard for me then, huh? Filling me up like the good fucktoy you are." It left your mouth in a low moan, as the tip of his cock stroked and nudged against that sensitive spot inside of you.

"I don't know, I don't…I can't…" Euronymous' voice cracked again, his entire body turning rigid beneath you.

"See? Just let go…cum for me, babe." You encouraged, trying to push him over the threshold for the 4th time tonight.

"It feels so good but hurts…" He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth in a whiny groan, surrendering to you milking him dry yet again.

With a guttural cry, he arched his back from the mattress, his cock pulsing and twitching inside of you as you pulled another orgasm from him. Moaning and whining, he squirmed, pushing against the restraints until you slowly stopped moving.

"I'm so proud of you, babe.", You leaned down to press a long kiss to his quivering lips "I love my perfect, little fucktoy so much. I'm going to untie you now and you'll get all the praise you deserve!"

[carmesi-butterfly]

thoughts on submissive gyuvin at 3:10 am

my first time writing smut, i feel like this turned out awful but i did my best ok 😔 because it's the first time i do it i don't know how to tag most of the stuff,, sorry

my random thoughts about submissive gyuvin. word count 591. warnings overstimulation, dumbification (?), sex without condom, finishing inside. no proofread.

"a-ah... i ca-ah! i can't believe you're doing this to me" were the only coherent words dropped from your boyfriend's mouth.

hours of overstimulation ended up with a destroyed gyuvin, his hair looking messy and his body all sticky covered by a mix of sweat, saliva, and sexual fluids of all the orgasms you took out of him, a few of them being yours too. poor gyuvin was being fucked so well by his partner that he couldn't even tangle two thoughts together to form a simple sentence, just babbling words as a way to express how fine it felt.

every bounce to his dick made him drop a moan as if it was an automatic setting in his body, please don't make fun of him, it's so hard to handle it :( your cunt sucking him for the who-knows-what time in the last few hours, milking him dry till the last drop.

"you think you can cum again, sweetie?" you asked, in such a sweet voice that made the boy think he could finish by only hearing you. the riding became more hectic, your pussy slamming into his dick harder, filling the room with the sloppy sound of your bodies roaming into each other, desperately looking for the so-desired orgasm.

"i can't, i c-can't" cried, his head moving from side to side, denying repeatedly. "it's too much..." his groans were accompanied by a strong grip on your hips trying to calm your peace, an act that was contradicted by his hips rocking with yours.

"you can puppy, just one more and we'll be done, you've been so good today" your words became more needy, one of your hands left his shoulder to caress his face and forced him to look at you, maintaining visual contact while reaching the last stage before ecstasy.

tears unleashed through his eyes, gyuvin's dick was so sensitive that it felt as if it burned him but at the same time the sensation came to be addictive, only you could make him feel like this, all submissive and dumb by fucking him senseless, how humiliating it was for him; being so big and ending up dominated by you. luckily for his sanity both your climaxes were around the corner, minds dizzy with pleasure and leaving all the work to your bodies, like animals fulfilling a primal desire.

between moans and muffled words, your boyfriend's orgasm came, filling your pussy up with his cum not before holding you strongly as an eager act to maintain you motionless, heavy breathing was the only thing resounding in a room where all kinds of vocal and corporal sounds could be heard just a moment ago.

"puppy, i didn't finish," you said, your faces being so near that your lips were almost touching. it hit gyuvin like a truck, dropping him out of the cloud that was taking over his mind and making him land in the real world, he knew what you meant by saying that. "i guess we will have to go for another round... if that's what you want, of course,” your lips brushed his, ghosting his attempt at kissing you.

he could be tired, overstimulated, sensitive and a lot more, but leaving you unsatisfied wasn't an option he was willing to take, mainly because of his pride, but secondly because despite ending up defeated by you and your immense sexual appetite he enjoys it, it would be a lie to say he didn't, you must be so happy! getting to ride your boyfie again while he whimpers <3

[mm-lurking]

Malfunction: Heart Mode - Boothill

Based on this post. fem reader. Praying this is not ooc. Writing is kinda choppy, I tried my best. 1.6k words. tag: @nvuy hope you like it -- Boothill is one strong muddle-fudger. He does not give a rat's behind when it comes to romantic love, affection, and all that fudging nonsense. Even if it has crossed his mind, he's too busy dealing with the forking problems of the cosmos and most importantly trying to find that son of a nice lady who is responsible for killing his sweet angel and destroying his planet.

Yet here he is, standing in front of you at the bar with a drink in his hand as he hears his machine heart starting to whir. You both were regulars at the bar and often ran into each other from time to time. Your encounters were akin to something like being seatmates; there was enough information exchanged to know about each other yet it was nothing personal. While you didn't quite understand why he would disappear for long periods before returning like nothing happened, you never questioned it and were simply happy to see him again.

He too liked meeting up with you. He couldn't help but flash his razor-sharp teeth whenever he saw you; calling you “partner!” out loud before greeting you and asking how you had been. The little interactions you both had were always a pleasure and as time passed, he seemed to grow more attached to seeing you.

Today was a little different. Compared to your usual outfit, you were dressed up all fancy and the more he looked at you, the louder the whirring of his heart got.

"Fudge."

He mutters under his breath. You look at him inquisitively as he turns his head sideways and sighs.

"Something the matter Boothill?" "It's nothing partner."

You watch as he chugs down his glass and sets the empty vessel down on the bar counter before ordering more.

"I haven't even finished my first drink yet and you're already done?"

You laugh a little as you take a sip of your drink. The dim lights of the bar made your jewellery glow and alongside the reflections of other shiny things, you looked heavenly in his eyes. He doesn’t answer so you look over and find him dazed.

"Boothill...? Um, do you need some space?" "Fudge!"

He can't help but say it out loud this time, covering his face as he scrunches his eyebrows and frowns. This was not how he normally behaved. What in the hot diggity fudge was going on with him?

"Yes- I mean no, ugh fork me!"

You stand there confused (and slightly amused) at how he seems to be fighting himself like a madman. He almost looked possessed from how he kept going back and forth with himself as if he was surprised at what he was saying. Like his tongue wasn't his own.

"I'll give you some space."

The last thing you wanted was for him to hurt himself or those around him. You finally decide to leave just to make sure everything's alright only for him to grab your arm and then quickly let go in shock.

"Sorry 'bout that partner.”

Boothill awkwardly apologises for his unusual behaviour. Before you can reply, a drunk accidentally pushes you from behind and you lose your balance causing you to fall straight into his arms.

“I-!?” “Um…?!”

Both of you are speechless. He swiftly holds your waist with one hand while the other firmly holds onto malt juice. Your hands are tightly gripping his shoulders from the fear of falling. No coherent thought is spoken but the flustered look on your faces has got some of the bar regulars around you giggling.

You don’t even hear the apology of the one who accidentally pushed you. It's as if time has slowed down and nothing exists outside you both. Strangely, he doesn’t let you go and you don’t move either making things even more awkward.

The strong alcohol you were sipping on makes you tipsy and somehow gives you the courage to lift your head and gaze into Boothill's unique eyes. You've always admired how dashing he looks; from his physique to his dressing style and even his interesting way of speaking. And now here you were up close, staring disrespectfully at his face and how handsome he looked.

Boothill is no different either, he's gazing at you hesitantly as he tries to find something to say but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is-

“Fudge me…” “I'm sure the ladies at the ranch think about that regularly.”

You mumble without thinking and he tenses up.

“I- what?!”

He stutters as his cheeks turn slightly red and his eyes widen.

“Uh?! Nothing!”

You mentally slap yourself for blurting that out loud. Even if it was true, why did you have to say it and make things awkward? Come on! You both were having a somewhat endearingly awkward time together! 

You attempt to conjure up something to smooth things over but your thinking is disrupted by a strangely loud machine sound that seems to be coming from nearby. The whoosh is accompanied by irregular beeping sounds, almost like one of those technology things Boothill had told you about. 

You glance around to see if you can find the source only to realise-

It’s coming from Boothill.

“Oh.” You whisper under your breath but the cyborg (who still doesn't let you go nor drinks his beverage and is as still as a statue for some reason) hears you loud and clear.

“Something the matter, pretty lady?” “Yes. Do you plan on us staying in this position until the bar closes?”

Instead of answering his question, you deflect it with another. He turns red again and stammers badly which makes you giggle and further confirms your theory.

“Gotcha.”

Before Boothill can ask what you’re doing, you slowly drag your hands down his shoulders until they rest on his chest. You feel the rapid whirring of his heart through the vibrations it emits through your fingertips. A tiny smirk spreads on your face and you look back at him.

“You’re pretty cute.”

You flirtatiously speak. The look of confusion and embarrassment on his face makes you laugh harder.

“What- hey what- I-”

Boothill’s stammering only gets worse alongside the overheating of his heart. He tries to reply with a snarky comment but the only thing he’s capable of doing is squeezing your waist harder and propping himself up with the bar counter to avoid falling. You, being the woman you are, do not stop the teasing.

“You can’t handle affection, can you? Look at you sweet thing, your heart is overworking and your synesthesia beacon has already overheated.” “Shut…” “I barely said anything and you’re malfunctioning already? How amusing.” “Son of a nice lady…” “I am indeed the daughter of a nice lady.”

“You-!”

He is bewildered at your unexpected behaviour but that painfully obvious blush on his cheek tells you he's not mad about it.

“Oh dear,” you chuckle and pry yourself off his metal chest, “I should stop or else your…eccentric friends…will hold me responsible for any severe malfunctions.”

This was enough teasing from you today. If it were up to you, you would go on and on but you feared any dire consequences that would affect Boothill. You lift and steady yourself up nonchalantly as if you just didn't cause the ranger to nearly pass out from your shenanigans.

Despite the cold metal exterior, he feels the loss of warmth from you moving your body away. His hand slowly retracts from your waist but lingers as if he hesitates to let go. The overheating of his system rapidly starts to decrease, however, he is unable to calm his emotions down completely. He turns his attention away from his mechanical heart and gazes at you curiously while you fix your wrinkled dress.

“You are one hell of a woman.”

A long sigh leaves his mouth as he speaks as if still processing your chaos. A sly smile appears on your face when you (finally) hear him speak properly.

“Took you a while to get talking didn't it mister?”

That grin on your face screams ‘this wasn’t even my best attempt’ but he shrugs it off. He unknowingly takes a step closer to you as if wanting your presence as close to him as possible. The (welcomed) intrusion into your personal space causes you to sharply inhale. He simply places his hand over the rim of your filled glass and whispers gently.

“You think I'd let any lady come close like that?”

Your mouth practically foams as you try to formulate a response. Eventhough you're not looking him, you can feel his gaze on you which makes you nervous.

“I'll tell you something sweetheart. I've got some fudging business to attend to in a bit but the next time we meet, I'll finish what you started.”

His voice is low and rumbly as he subtly warns you of the consequences of your actions. He follows it with a tight squeeze of your hand and then steps away from you. Your mind protests his leave but you're too stunned to speak; had you put yourself on his wanted list now? 

There is a devilish smile on his face as he checks his gun and locks it before walking away with it casually. Next time, he'd show you what a cowboy is capable of.

Hey, at least you were living out the dreams of those ranch ladies. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[scoobydoodean]

I feel like you’re one of the few people I’d trust to ask this of, but I always find myself wondering at the different reactions Dean has to hunting, i.e: Sam and others. Like I don’t think at all that he forced Sam back or was dragging him around or anything like that. But even way back then with Jo he was always like “get away from this life”. And still, especially early on, he seemed to be offended/angry that Sam didn’t like the life/want it for himself. I always personally understood it as a mix of sibling bickering like “ohh you think you’re so much better”, a front so as to pretend “hey everything is fine don’t look too closely” and Sam himself kinda conflating hunting = family and thus had to cut both out to be free of it, so in turn Dean also associated Sam walking away from hunting as walking away from family (reinforced by Heaven and Purgatory, later on, in slightly different ways) (although which came first and/or how much that was influenced by John first is ultimately a chicken and egg situation, I suppose). But I’d like to know if you have thoughts on this? Sorry for the long ask, I hope it was coherent?

NOTE: For anyone looking for commentary on Dean absolutely not forcing Sam back into hunting, my tags #sam the hunter, #sam the family man, and #in which... I am too lazy to write all that out may be of use.

So if I understand correctly, what we're getting at here is that Dean pretty consistently tries to talk people (especially younger people) out of the life or objects to involving them. For example, Jo (2.06), Adam (4.19), Jimmy (4.20), Krissy and her dad (7.11), Krissy's friends (8.18), Claire (10.20). He tries to protect Jesse and Cesar's retirement. But when it comes to Sam, Dean isn't so into trying to talk him out of the life.

To discuss the premise itself first, I can think of the following instances where Dean is hurt, skeptical, or displays some other sort of objection to Sam vs normal life: 1.01, 1.16, 4.22, 5.16, 8.01 (Pine's rewatch notes help me out here too). On the other hand, I can also think of many moments where Dean is supportive of Sam having a normal life or wishes that for him. Starting from 1.06 and 1.18, Dean says that he wishes Sam could just be normal. By 1.07, Dean is suggesting they just stay in the college town representing Sam's wistful desire for normality. I have a compilation gifset of these and a few other season 1 moments here. In 2.20, Dean beams with happiness that Sam is living a normal life and has Jess by his side—this is also despite the fact that he and Sam are estranged in the Djinn dream universe. In season 8, while Dean is hurt and angry that Sam left him to die and abandoned Kevin, when the opportunity presents itself for Sam to get back together with Amelia in 8.10 and go be normal, Dean tells Sam he should go to her if that's what would make him happy. In 8.14, Dean says he wants to do The Trials so that Sam can survive and go be normal. Basically what I'm getting at is that while moments occur where Dean seems hurt by Sam wanting a normal life or has some other objection, there are more moments where the exact opposite is true. This contrast also opens the door for questions about why Dean sometimes reacts negatively and sometimes doesn't (or maybe has to "come around" to the idea). The mixed bag suggests a lot of different and sometimes conflicting emotions, which is very realistic I think.

I don't think every single one of these reasons factors into every single one of the five episodes I mentioned where Dean seems hurt/skeptical about Sam + normal life, but here we go:

First, while Dean tries to push a lot of people out of the life and is also shown to crave a normal life for himself at various points (ex: 2.20, 3.10, 5.17), he does believe that being involved with the supernatural world is physically unavoidable for some people, and that it psychologically gets its hooks into others to the point they eventually can't get out/turn back (ex: 4.19). Jack, Jesse, and Kevin (and Sam and Dean themselves eventually) are examples of people Sam and Dean see as stuck in the life practically, because demons and angels are after them for reasons out of all of their control. However, Sam and Dean were both psychologically stuck in hunting first. For Dean, the house fire and how he was raised leave him feeling stuck in the hunting world. Sam doesn't remember the fire, but follows on John's heels when Jess dies in the same manner that Mary did. The trauma of losing Jess creates a commonality and drive that wasn't present before, causing Sam to say that he and his father aren't different anymore—in fact, they have more in common than just about anyone (1.20). On many occasions, Sam also talks about hunting as an inevitability/something he can't "come back" from at this point even if he wanted to (ex: 2.10, 4.19, 4.21). Closely interrelated, at various points, Sam also says that hunting has become a life he loves and/or prefers to normality (ex: 2.02, 2.20, 4.08, 4.17, 5.12a, 5.12b, 5.12c, 10.18).

Dean's language in 1.01 "Sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are" suggests part of Dean sees Sam as a hunter at the core from the beginning who is hiding from who he really is deep down. I think there is some truth to this (see my #sam the hunter tag). In that scene in 1.01, Dean generally expresses skepticism that Sam is really capable of leading the life he's trying to live long term. I think Dean also has reason to think that way, given that Sam outright admits he plans to lie to Jess forever... which kind of means Sam stays in the hunter mindset (where you lie to normal people every day to keep up appearances) and never really gets to be himself either way. Dean doesn't think this is practical or healthy and says so (and he's not wrong). All this to say—I think in 1.01, Dean has difficulty understanding that Sam has not (quite yet) fallen into the hunting world. Dean and John are kind of bonded by the shared trauma of losing Mary, but Sam doesn't share that trauma (as Sam himself points out on the bridge, saying he doesn't even remember Mary). Of course, that changes by the end of the episode. 8.01, Dean is just "?!?!?!?!?" because Sam has told Dean point blank on multiple occasions at that point that he prefers hunting to being normal (2.20, 4.08, 5.12) and has been overall rather into hunting, and has voiced the same thinking as Dean in regards to not being able to get out psychologically even if he wanted to (4.19, 5.12). There's a reason that when Sam says he doesn't hunt anymore in 8.01, Dean thinks he's joking at first. (I talk about why Sam left hunting between seasons 7 and 8 here). The thing is is that (unless driven by a burning desire for revenge as in the season 3-4 gap and the season 9-10 gap) Sam will not hunt without Dean. Not because Dean "makes" him hunt, but because Sam doesn't have the heart for the work without Dean by his side. (See the "I can't do it without my brother" 10.18 speech).

SAM: You know, when Dean came to get me at school, I-I told myself… one last job, you know? One more job. And then when – when I, um…. When I lost Jess, I, again, told myself one more job. There’s always one more job, you know? And one more job, and one more job, and then I was gonna go back to law and – and to my life. CHARLIE: You were the Dread Pirate Roberts of hunting. SAM: Yeah. I guess I really understand now that….this is my life. I love it. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother. And if he’s gone, then I don’t….

Interrelated to the concept of hunting as inescapable and as something Sam voices his enjoyment of multiple times—in 1.01, Dean also (though part bravado) still romanticizes hunting to an extent (though not for much longer—we see this by the time he meets Jo). This definitely factors into how Dean approaches the subject in 1.01, though I don't think it factors into later moments.

Second, Dean is the heart character, and as the heart character, he feels a responsibility to protect people. When he tells Sam in the pilot "You have a responsibility", I think what Dean means is "saving people, hunting things, the family business". It isn't revenge that they have a responsibility toward (Dean will be the one to say he hopes they never find the demon if it means Sam or John killing themselves to end it (1.22) but that from Dean's perspective, Dean's knowledge of what's out there and his proficiency at the job gives him a moral obligation to try and save people in harms way. On the other hand, I don't think Sam feels this way—at least not nearly so strongly. Sam's approach to hunting has always been more family focused imo. Both brothers hunt as a means of coping to an extent, but more largely, Dean hunts because he feels deeply for others and wants—and even feels a duty to—protect people. Sam hunts because hunting makes him feel close to his family and makes him feel known, and because it is where he feels he can be himself (ex: 4.17). More succinctly—for Dean, the order goes, "Saving people, hunting things, the family business" and for Sam, the order goes, "The family business, saving people, hunting things" I think. This difference in motivations occasionally creates interesting tension on the hunt, but it is also creates confusion when Sam has left hunting pre-series, and again in season 8.

SAM: Look, it wasn't like I was... just oblivious. I mean, I read the paper every day. I saw the weird stories… the kind of stuff we used to chase. DEAN: And you said what? "Not my problem"? SAM: Yes. And you know what? The world went on.

8.01 "We Need To Talk About Kevin"

Dean doesn't understand this. He can't wrap his head around it because Dean doesn't think this way, and I'm not sure Dean ever gets exactly why Sam is driven to hunt. He doesn't really get the strength of the family connection for Sam... and Dean has reason not to, because from the outside looking in, Sam cutting Dean out of his life every time he decides he doesn't want to hunt anymore sounds like he doesn't actually care about Dean that much deep down... or at all. So how on earth could Sam's interest in and love for hunting be connected to caring about his brother DEAN???

That brings me to the third reason for some of this occasional hurt from Dean, which is that you're right about Sam (and then Dean in turn) associating normal life with cutting Dean off, because that's what Sam does. Any time Sam goes after a normal life, there seems to be no room for contact with Dean in it. When Sam goes to school, even though his fight was with John, it's implied that he wouldn't take Dean's calls which is why Dean showed up in person (1.01).

NOTE: This period is a little tricky, because the script was supposed to say they hadn't spoken since Sam left at 18, but what accidentally made it into the show is that they may have been in contact for the first two years. The two years wouldn't make things much better though, because with Dean's dialogue "You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." It still seems like Sam is the one who cut ties.

In 1.16 "Shadow", when Dean brings up wanting to stay together and "be a family again" even after the business with the demon is concluded, Sam makes it clear he's returning to school—which is perfectly fine. However, buried within this conversation is the implication that Dean doesn't want to lose contact with Sam again, and Sam doesn't give any assurances about calling or staying in contact because... he plans to cut Dean off again, even while telling Dean he loves him.

"Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before. [...] I don’t want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way."

Dean looks at this and goes "?????" because how can Sam talk about how much he cares for Dean and then in the same breath, essentially say he doesn't want to see him anymore after this? That makes no sense... right? And the self-hating part of Dean who believes Meg's manipulative framing in 1.16 about him dragging Sam everywhere even though Sam has repeatedly been the race horse raring for revenge and getting angry when Dean can't pull leads on John or the demon out of his ass thinks maybe he IS somehow responsible for every horrible thing that has happened to Sam and how Sam's life is now. And Dean's insecurities are reinforced too because Sam has thrown it in his face that it's his fault in moments where he was angry and felt a loss of control. So Dean doesn't understand how hunting is actually positively connected to family and him for Sam, and Sam doesn't understand how Dean doesn't understand and doesn't know how to reassure him (5.16), and that's how we get Dean unloading his insecurities about Sam not loving him in 4.22 (to Bobby) and 5.16 (to Sam). In both discussions, Dean's lack of belief in Sam's care for him is closely connected to Sam's desire for normality and how Dean felt tossed away like garbage and like his efforts were never enough. I talk about the dialogue in 4.22 more in depth here (added context of Sam calling Dean weak for his trauma and strangling Dean near unconscious matters lmao). In 5.16, Zachariah (imo) repeatedly pushes the brothers toward Sam's memories of normality and being away from Dean as part of his psychological ploy, and it works even though Sam's strongly stated lack of interest in normality is (arguably) at its zenith (4.08, 4.19, 5.12) because the brothers relationship is so weak from season 4. If we didn't already get it, we as viewers realize Sam loves his brother very much and has many happy memories with him despite appearances in 5.22 when happy memories with Dean are what pulls Sam from Lucifer's control.

Another important episode here in regards to Dean’s perceptions of Sam's feelings versus how Sam actually sees Dean is 2.20 "What Is And What Should Never Be". There's a variety of things to be said about how in Dean's dream, he envisions himself as someone his family would look down upon even in a paradise scenario. However, one of the bits we get from the whole dream is that Dean believes that in normal life scenario, Sam wouldn't want to be around him. Dean envisions himself as kind of a terrible person (and as usual, he is being really ugly about himself in a way that isn't at all warranted), but undoubtably, there's also a classist stench to the scenario—Dean the blue collar worker, Sam the hot shot lawyer who looks down his nose at Dean. I don't doubt that deep down, Dean kind of believes the real Sam sees himself as upwardly mobile and Dean as beneath him. One of the ways Dean potentially forms that conclusion is how Sam treats him over money early in the series. That said, the REAL Sam is surprised by their lack of connection in Dean's "paradise". When Dean suggests that without hunting, they never would have connected, Sam makes it clear that he's glad they have.

But yeah! Those scenes in 4.22 and 5.16 aren't even about Sam wanting to be normal—they're about how Dean feels discarded every time Sam goes after normal (and it happens again in 8.01).

Lastly, Dean's also dealing with jealousy in a couple of these moments. Before we ever met him, Dean had his own wistful desires for normal (9.07, 1.06, 1.13). Safety and a home and normality were things he felt he couldn't ever really have (this also comes post-breakup with Cassie). Even in 8.10, when Dean tells Sam to get back with Amelia if he can, he adds,

And, you know, maybe I'm a little bit jealous. I could never separate myself from the job like you could.

I think this line leads directly back to Dean as the heart character who has extreme difficulty with the concept of burying his head in the sand—something Sam was able to do easily (like... too easily RE: Kevin). I think Dean kind of judges Sam for doing that, but at the same time, Dean also knows he has an overactive sense of responsibility—he just can't shake it despite knowing that (2.20, 5.11, 7.04). So he envies that Sam can even if he thinks Sam leans too far the other direction sometimes.

I also don't think this bit from Shifter!Dean in 1.06 was too off:

You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you? [...] See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me.

I think coupled with that jealousy in 1.01, we also see Dean's resentment, because he sacrificed everything for their family. He sacrificed his childhood to take care of his father who was a mess, and play mother and father to his brother, and he had a gun in his hand meant to kill before he was even 10, and Dean resents all of this. Dean was made to be the responsible one when he was just a child out of necessity, and John (someone Dean repeatedly calls a deadbeat in season 5) took advantage and then discarded him (a part of Dean does know he deserves better), and Sam cut Dean out of his life the moment he was no longer of use. It isn't just that Sam doesn't feel the weight of the burdens Dean was made to shoulder—Sam doesn't even seem to realize they exist, and Dean is resentful. He wants someone in his family besides him to shoulder some of the family responsibilities Dean has spent so long carrying alone. His feelings are misdirected toward Sam in 1.01 in that regard, but they're also very human.

Even so, Dean's love supersedes jealousy and resentment. We see this clearly in 1.18 "Something Wicked", which is all about Dean's childhood being stolen and him being burdened with responsibilities that were too big and blamed for people dying when he was just a child and it wasn't his fault, but at the end of the episode, Dean doesn't wish innocence for himself—he wishes it for Sam. Even though the episode is all about Dean's memory of his own trauma. And in 2.20, in his "paradise" dream, Sam gets to be normal, and he and Sam don't even get along, and Dean doesn't care—he's just over the moon that his brother gets to live a normal life.

[duckprintspress]

Sorry for being a little in the dark, but can you explain what happened with NaNoWriMo? Or at least point me towards some resources pls?

Hey anon!

Never apologize for that. Life is so fucking busy, no one can be apprised of everything going on all the time. Our brains would break even trying. Anyway, multiple things have happened with NaNoWriMo, but for the current debacle, the best answer is probably to read their own words as appended in a reblog to my original post about how to delete.

The TL:DR is, to paraphrase NaNo's own words (after they got a sponsorship from ProWritingAid, an "AI" company), they support using "AI" as part of NaNoWriMo, accusing people who disagree of being ableist and classist.

Having read both their statements, they at least imply that they mean "AI" such as grammar checkers, rather than generative "AI," but they don't actually clarify and it's at best ambiguous if they include generative LLM as being allowed and reasonable. When people got upset with them, they doubled down, saying things like "not everyone can afford an editor," which as someone who personally couldn't afford an editor and so taught myself to edit at a professional level over ten years, I'll own I find a fucking insane and insulting take. A lot of us worked our asses off to learn these skills, and it's not classist to suggest that other people...can learn too. But also...like...if I was certain they only meant grammar checkers, I might be a bit more forgiving (I mean, I use Word's grammar checker, though it's often wrong), but which LLM usages they're actually defending isn't clarified and they jump right to defending their position by tarring people who disagree with them as -isms, and that's some kinda bs argument right there.

To be clear, I think policies banning people from using LLMs in events like NaNoWriMo or on platforms like AO3 is an exercise in futility. Bans are unenforceable, and attempts to moderate will turn into harassment tools. The line between "work written by someone who isn't proficient yet" and "LLM" isn't clear, and policing that line would consume huge amounts of moderating effort for basically no benefit. IMO, for places like AO3 the best bet is simply transparency, as in, people using LLMs should fucking tag it.

To be clear secondarily, putting my "I own a small Press" hat, if someone sends us something verifiably LLM-generated, they will be permanently banned, but honestly, even something I can't verify as LLM-generated, like. Won't be good writing. It might be technically precise but an LLM can't generate a coherent story because it can't think or remember. It's just a word-probability engine. We've never had an LLM-generated submission to the best of my knowledge, but if we did, well. Ban hammer.

Anyway. Sorry. I got off topic. The point is, NaNo basically said we were all ableist and classist because we want people to write (even if they write badly!) for the...write a novel challenge.

And this made a lot of people very angry.

[visionsofmagic]

leon s. kennedy [re 4: remake]

⋆ leon needs you.

wc: 2.7k ⋆ tags: nsfw, explicit, biting, kissing, licking, sub!leon, dom!leon (just a little bit), dom!reader, fem!reader, moaning, using pet names, positions, begging. ‘s all I guess. enjoy! [had so fun while writing but I wrote in long intervals, so, it can be a little bit low at coherence.] ⋆ masterlist.

"need u." leon says, sounding so low - from far away even though he is close. he is on his feet while you are writing new information about the lake in a notebook on a wooden, clean, and dry table.

when you hear him, you turn around with the chair you sitting on, opening him a place to get in, standing right in front of you - his legs touching your knees.

"what?" you question, curious if you heard it right. "what did you say pretty?" you encourage him to speak loudly for you to hear and comprehend.

leon's pale face lightens with a pink glow on the cheeks, tries to avoid any connection of eyes, looking at your little exposed breasts as he speaks again, louder this time but still so shy, "I need you."

taking a look at him, carefully this time, you see some dry blood on his clothes and glowed hands, probably from a few unconscious humans in the town. his shoulders look tense through his shirt, his hands shaking a little, and an unreadable but straight expression on his face. the world you live in was hard to endure and times like this happen to you all the time.

you always like to make him calmer, better, but now you had a serious job to do and you let a sigh, getting up to pat leon's shoulder, "I need to do this leon. can you wait a little longer for me, hm?" you see the hesitation on his blue icy eyes, so, you add, "please?" you raise on your tiptoes, kissing his cheek as your one hand stands on his chest. "my pretty boy."

the nickname hit him, he likes to be called your pretty boy and it always works on him to become more patient for some moment.

nodding, he sits down on the chair you left, his elbows resting on his thighs, hair flying lightly, eyes all on you, leaving a burning sensation on the skin he is looking at.

taking a few deep breaths, you smile to yourself and turn to the work on hand.

as you keep going on with the adjustments, leon's patience decreases each minute and finally, he can't help himself but to touch your left inner thigh gently, the closer one to him.

he wants to feel you, you can see it clearly from the way his eyes become wetter with each passing time, but he has to wait.

"leon!" you say, lowly, as a playful warning.

he doesn't look sorry, so, he keeps caressing your inner thigh, getting closer to your ass from there and you leave heavy breaths because you too want to feel him. now you are in a safe zone - a zone hard to get and you don't want to waste it, especially when you have just a few zones like this on the entire area.

"l-leon." this time, your voice is full of lust and affection; want to get more but still have the idea of turning back to work.

however, when leon's palm is positioned on your ass, squeezing it gently, your mind went from the job to him, only him.

he gave another squeeze before moving on to your waist, making your body turn to him, then pushing you to get close 'till you are between his thick thighs as they closed briefly, caging you inside.

his other hand joined. both of them began to move freely on your body, exploring it like a hundredth time, curious yet already knowing every detail as his hands work professionally. he gives you lots of low moans that you even don't try to hide, letting leon know that he was doing so good giving you pleasure only with his hands.

then, getting confidence, his lips join his hands after he helped you to remove your top including the bra under it, leaving you half naked before him.

smirking under you, leon looked up at your face full of heat, knowledge of his own power on you giving him a boost, making him begin to suck your right nipple which was hardened in the pleasure you were getting from neon.

his eyes never closed, never left yours, challenging you to keep your posture still. and you did - you stood there like a statue as he sucked each nipple, squeezing them, leaving red marks on them that will disappear soon enough only to be replaced with news by leon again.

you left low moans and growls as he continued but getting impatient, you held leon's hair, pulling it and letting leon know you needed more - you wanted more.

understanding your gesture, he begins to lower down, kissing every skin under his lips 'till he reaches to your pussy after kissing your exposed abdomen.

he looks at you for permission to remove your pants and underwear too and you only nod, biting your own lip, feeling impatience growing up inside.

leon is good at using his hands and fingers, not only in battle but in these moments too. it always amazed you how fast he can get rid of the clothes on his way, under 10 seconds and you let him do whatever he wants for a moment; looking at your exposed body from head to toe while leaving heavy breaths and a few growls, worshipping you.

smiling, you begin to play with his blonde hair, its softness tickles your skin and he closes his eyes as he begins to kiss your pussy, giving a few licks from here to there, earning a moan and praise from you. "oh, good boy."

leon is a man of action and your praising increase his eagerness to take further steps, so, he lowers his head down, opening your thighs wider, taking one of your legs to put it on his shoulder and having enough space to eat you.

the scene is sinful; the moment is similar to a picture from a nasty magazine yet it feels like euphoria.

leon's tongue keeps giving you pleasure at a high level - as always. it doesn't take long for you to reach your climax, especially after leon's fingers join his tongue.

leon's eyes find yours, nodding a little, saying a silent 'go on, cum to my mouth' with begging eyes. don't want to make him upset, you nod, cumming to his mouth and tongue in a second, letting your juice flow from you to his face and to the wooden floor from there.

closing your eyes, you throw your head back, staying in that position 'till you come to your senses, feeling piercing gazes of leon.

looking at his messy and wet face, you think his attractiveness grows bigger with your juices all over his sharp but cute face.

caressing his hair with your left hand, you use your forefinger to lift his chin. making him look so seductively as your thump play with his lower lip, you say, "you were so good leon. so - so good."

he smiles fondly at your praising, proud of himself.

realizing his hardened cock, you chuckle, reaching to his cock and giving a few squeezes through the fabric of his tight pants. earning a growl from him, lust washes over your entire body. the heat in the air is remarkable – giving hotness to the skin yet it is not a burning sensation, it is rather a tickle to make one go crazy with the need for touch and pleasure.

with the need of him – he is already in need of you as he keeps saying and looks at you with puppy eyes, trying to make you agree with his plan, you put a kiss on his lips, and say, “if you want me so bad, you should take them off.”

nodding in a fast motion, he firstly removes his tight top from his body, giving a full sight of his upper body which is built well. leon is like a soldier – he is already good at killing possessed people, monsters, and so on. to kill them, he needs to be strong both physically and mentally which gives him an intelligent mind with good physic. you like – even love nearly everything about him. however, it hits differently whenever you see him like this; the color of rose rushing into his cheeks, blonde-grey hair moving freely thanks to his movements, a body portion of lots of muscles that you begin to touch slowly.

then, he gets a little up, taking his pants, including his boxer, staying with his nudity in front of you – having no shame while doing it but when he looks up – to your eyes, he blushes – more than ever.

finding it cute yet entertaining, you giggle, one of your hands finds his shoulder, and the other one stays on his neck, holding it not so roughly. “thought about preparing you in the first place but look at you,” you mock him, teasingly, pointing out the fact that with only a few strokes on his cock, he becomes hard enough for you to take him. “already?” chuckling, you make him try to hide his face from you but he can’t escape, not when you are about to take his cock deep inside your walls, giving him what he needs. “you weren’t joking when you said you needed me, pretty boy, were you?”

holding your waist when he feels his tip touching your entrance, struggling so hard not to make a move, waiting for you to let him have his way with you – but it is hard though, he admits inside his own head, especially when you look at him with such love and lust that he can give everything he has to you. he needs to be inside you, and you know it well. the fact makes you smile innocently, yet, you talk devilishly, “how much you needed me, pretty,” you ask, caressing his hair, “say it.”

“so much!” he nearly screams but stops himself in the middle, “so much, y/n, I need you so much that it hurts!”

“but you have me now, right?” another teasing. it’s just a perfect view of him when he has madness because of the lust you’re giving him.

“more – “ he looks at your lower part, his cock can enter with only one move coming from either you or him. “I can’t wait anymore!” he says in a lower tone, sounding alert. having a mixture of pleasure and affection in your tummy, you smile, and nod to leon who is watching you as if you’re his own prey and hunter at the same time – you’re making him lose his mind, and when you sit down on his thick and long cock without waiting for his action, he loses all he has from mind to soul, from the heart to brain – all of it.

“pretty.” you say when he closes his eyes shut, throwing his head behind, hands positioned on your waist, holding you tight, and not wasting any more time, he moves – oh, he moves so good that you feel yourself jumping on his lap from up to down – rapidly. leon, being a former police officer and current agent, has a power that impresses you every time you witness it, especially in these times, when he becomes a little bit excited – more than a little bit though, using your body, making you feel each deep, rapid thrusts he is giving to you; it’s all because he wants to prove himself to you so that you can see how much he needs this – you, how much he can give you euphoria that is needed, and how he can receive all the things you let him have.

“ahhh – y/n,” he moans loudly the moment your right-hand grips his neck hair, pulling it to see his face closer. starting to move your hips in sync with his thrusts, a jolt flows into both of your bodies, heavy breath sounds mixing with moans coming from each of you, creating an erratic atmosphere. “please, fuck! uggghh! –“

“you look so pretty like this, leon,” you say, connecting your foreheads as you lean closer only to make his cock buries further into your walls; hotness rising upon you. your body moves up and down in a fast way that you nearly hit his forehead with yours; growls, moans, and curses fly in the air like the world around you stops, only a reality in which just the two of you live remains. “the prettiest boy I have ever seen.”

bouncing on his cock, leon looks at your breasts which are moving as well, sparkles in his ice blue eyes. if you look carefully enough, you can see your own vision inside his beautiful eyes; chest exposed, heat and redness visible on your face, cock going in and out your messy pussy which is already dripping wetness because of how good he makes you feel.

when leon gets enough of this position, he gets up, holding you from the back with his strong arms, and he puts your ass down on the table – papers on it are long forgotten as he finds a better position to get into the further deep side of your pussy.

he begins to like being the dominant side now – still having a look on his face that says you have all the ropes of him, you always do. “fuck –“ he curses, eyes traveling on you as he puts his palms on the sides of your head. you give him better access to kneel down closer by leaning behind, your back touches the cold surface of the table, closing your eyes, nerves receiving pleasure at the highest level.

his cock hit your g-spot again and again, earning loud moans from you. smirking – probably proud of himself for earning such things, he keeps his pace, and without a chance to say it aloud, alerting him, you cum undone within seconds, milking his cock as his balls hit your ass cheek, his cock doesn’t stop with the pace – sending vibrations into your sensitive core, and a low chuckle comes from leon.

looking up, a sight in which leon has a proud yet still lustful expression on his attractive face – tears in his eyes because of the pleasure he is taking, sweat dripping, redness, all blushing. you know what he needs, so, showing an exhausted smile, you nod, “cum inside me leon. I need it – need you.”

his eyes stay normal for a moment before turning white – nearly, hips moving faster, thrusting with a non-stop pace, he cages you with his body. forehead hits forehead, you reach another climax – milking him once again and giving him a wetness with which he can enter in and out easily, growling, even moaning your name, “y/n! shit, ‘s too much – aaaah!”

it doesn’t take him long before cuming deep inside you, moaning like a madman, putting his head on your chest.

as his hot semen drips from your core into the table, you feel a hotness you only have with leon. being the reason you’re so weak, having a blank mind, looking at him with half-closed eyes, he can’t help himself but show a smile – a wide one, all happy, yet so childish.

chuckling at his cuteness, you say as you caress his wet hair, “you did so well, leon,” he smiles wider as if he can. “my pretty boy.”

holding your wrist, he kisses your palm while still looking at your eyes. “anything for my favorite lady.”

“cute.”

staying like that for a while – breathing deeply and rapidly to turn back to normal, wetness traveling on bodies, feeling shy all of sudden because of the current states of you two, chuckling from time to time, you have a great moment away from the cruelty of the world. he is a man who turns your comprehension of reality into something different – something that gives you peace and love contrary to the one you have. he’s the meaning of your life and with the looks he gives, you know he feels the same.

“let’s get clean, and then, let me show you my other skills in the field as well,” he says, giving his hand to you.

holding his hand, you chuckle, “show off.”

the end.

[hitomisuzuya]

Fatui!Dom! Scaramouche x fem!sub!Fatui reader. Smut. Established poly relationship. Cunnilingus. Wearing Scara's hat during sex. Yandere-ish? Possessive behavior. Choking. Degradation. Praise.

a/n: Welcome to #suzu after dark. These two pieces are going to be companion pieces. One is with Scaramouche and the other will be with Childe. I just wanted to write smut for them both lol. This idea got many pushes of inspiration. I had @kichikichiko indulge me with the hat idea and @xxventiswindblumexx indulged me further. So credit goes to these lovelies for the tonight's smut and tomorrow's smut with Childe. Enjoy😳 also tagging @that-one-gay-writer1227

"Ha! You look like such a fucking slut, right now," Scaramouche said, smirking as he sucked harshly on your clit. "And I fucking love it. I don't know who is more turned on. If it's you for wearing my hat during sex, or me fucking you stupid on that idiot's Harbinger jacket."

You see, you were in something of a unique situation. You were in a poly relationship with Scaramouche and Childe. You felt guilty but you wanted them both. And they both wanted you.

So, they reluctantly agreed to your idea of a poly relationship. They both got to be in love and obsessed with you and you got to have your way because they wanted you to be happy.

They soon discovered that being in a poly relationship turned them on. Why? Because it became a competition. Who could fuck you better? They got off on this on this little competition. They got to fuck dominance over you into you and you get to have them both. So, it worked for them both even though they hated sharing you.

It was Childe's turn to provoke Scaramouche. He had put his Harbinger jacket on you because you said you were cold. In front of Scaramouche. He knew the boy was just as crazy about you. And he got to use that against him and try and fuck you better later on.

Like Childe predicted, Scaramouche quivered with rage, jealousy, and lust.

"Scara! Please! I can't...it's too much..!" You pleaded, tugging on his hair, pressing his face into your cunt. Your finger nails buried themselves in his scalp, making him hiss in pain and pleasure.

"Shut the fuck up, slut. I know you are enjoying this! I'll take my time and decide when you can cum," he growled, making your clit twitch and throb. "Maybe you call me Master like the slut you are, I'll make you beg louder because I know you will!"

Scaramouche buried three fingers to the knuckle inside of you, sucking harshly on your clit. You whined and moaned, hardly being able to string coherent sentences together.

"You sound like such a perfect slut," Scaramouche laughed, relishing in how you cried out desperately when you watched him lick his fingers clean.

Pushing his fingers into your mouth, he made you gag on them by pushing down on your tongue. "Are you going dumb already? That's perfect!" He grinned, manic with lust as you sucked on his fingers.

Pinning your wrists above your head, he kissed you, harsh and passionate. You moaned as he thrust his cock inside of you. Every snap of his hips was deep, harsh and possessive. "You filthy whore, I knew you were getting off on me fucking you on Childe's jacket."

Your neck was starting to feel sore from the weight of his hat. "You are already drooling. You sound like a shameless slut, and I love it!" He bit down on your neck, grinding his teeth and sucking at a fold of skin, making your back arch in pleasure.

Scaramouche wrapped his hand around your throat, and squeezed, grunting when he felt your walls clamp gummy on his cock. His gripe was harsh and possessive. Your hands were feverishly groping around on his back, feeling your orgasm approaching.

Scaramouche batted his hat off of your head "I only did that because I knew it would turn us both on. Even though I loved hearing your pathetic babbling as you struggled to beg me to fuck you harder, I'd rather cum inside of you while I choke you."

Scaramouche was reeling in love. "Now just lay there and submit to me like a good girl while I put my scent all over Childe's jacket. Don't worry, you'll cum soon enough, slut."

The second he cummed inside of you, he let go of your throat. "Now, stop thinking and let Childe know at the top your lungs who is fucking you better while you cum."

For added dominance, he sucked harshly on your throat while you cried out for him.