#I feel like people don't love her enough and I need everyone to love her as much as me

[janiehellion]

Walking The Dog

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You don’t just walk the dog—you make him crave it. And just like a loyal pet, Daryl Dixon will follow your every command—if you keep him on a leash and train him to obey.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: SUB!DARYL DIXON X DOM!FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HUMILIATION / DEGRADATION / LIPSTICK KINK / LEATHER GLOVES FETISH / CUMPLAY / IMPLIED CBT / EDGING & DENIAL / PRAISE / LANGUAGE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.080

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You never did blend in, and that was the whole point. Your style had always been a choice—black and red leather and latex, hugging every inch of your body. Leather jackets, thigh-high boots with heels that announced your arrival before you ever spoke, and even tighter leather pants that hinted at the curves underneath without giving too much away.

A tantalizing kind of restraint.

You'd always chosen black as your base, but red? That was your signature color. It wasn't just in your wardrobe, either. It was the color you put onto your lips, perfectly applied and turning heads.

You weren't shy about it. Not at all. The way you used that lipstick was intentional. You liked how people's eyes looked at your lips when you talked and how they stared at you when you smiled. Even before the world fell apart, you'd been magnetic—someone who drew attention just by existing in the same space.

When the apocalypse hit, you didn't drop the act like so many others did. If anything, the end of the world had given you more reason to keep it up.

While others scavenged for practicality, you hunted for pieces that made you feel powerful.

You wore leather gloves, too. But they weren't just for show—they protected your hands, just like the rest of your outfit was a form of protection. It was all about control in a world that had taken everything else from you. And if that meant walking into every stranger, living or dead, like you owned them, like everyone and everything was already beneath you, so be it.

Later, you met Juanita Sanchez, even though you don't remember the exact day you met Princess. It was one of those moments in the apocalypse where survival felt like the only thing keeping time moving. You'd been scavenging in a half-collapsed building—in your usual style, walking through the halls in a way that made even the living dead seem hesitant to approach. That's where you'd found her.

She was standing in the middle of a store where you watched her for a while, leaning casually against the frame of a broken doorway, a cigarette between your gloved fingers. Your lipstick—a deep, sinful red—was freshly applied, even if finding a mirror that wasn't broken in this world was a luxury. You didn't need one, though. You'd practiced until you could swipe it across your lips perfectly in the reflection of a knife blade.

"Gotta say," you'd called out after some time, "you kinda look like you're auditioning for a circus act."

Princess had turned around, and her eyes had landed on you, then dropped to the outfit you wore that day—a tight catsuit with the zipper pulled down just enough to leave little to the imagination. She didn't even try to hide the fact she was staring.

"Damn, if I wore that outfit, I'd look like a sausage," she joked, eyeing you up and down. "But you? You look like... a femme fatale! Girl, you're like sex on legs! I absolutely love it!"

"Something like that," you'd replied with a smirk, taking a long drag from your cigarette before flicking the ash to the floor. "Too bad I don't share my closet."

That was the start of it. She'd laughed so hard she snorted, and from that moment on, the two of you had been inseparable. Princess was the kind of friend who never asked questions about the things you didn't want to talk about. She didn't ask about your past or push you to explain why you wore leather and latex like armor and why you painted your lips with the boldest and deepest red you could find.

When you both joined up with Eugene, Ezekiel, and Yumiko, it became clear pretty quickly that you were nothing like them. But you didn't care. You didn't owe anyone at the Commonwealth or the Coalition an explanation, and you weren't about to start dressing differently either.

Then there was Daryl Dixon.

He had been the hardest to crack after you got to know your way around the new people. From the moment you met him, you could tell he was different. He didn't look at you the way other men did—at least, not at first. At first, he'd avoided you entirely, keeping his eyes on the ground or somewhere in the distance whenever you were around. Like he was afraid you might catch him looking.

But you did catch him. Over and over again.

And you hadn't made it easy for him because teasing him had become one of your favorite pastimes...

The department store you were now in had seen better days—most of the shelves were broken, the walls covered in dust and blood, and the floor in broken glass. Scavenging wasn't exactly your favorite thing in the world, but it was still necessary, even after all this time.

You, of course, walked through the cosmetics section while Daryl followed a few steps behind, his boots crunching over old plastic, and Princess had wandered off toward clothing racks.

But Daryl? He stuck annoyingly close. Not that he was trying to talk or anything—God forbid. No, he was just there, walking after you like a shadow, grunting whenever you looked his way.

At first, you thought maybe he was just keeping watch, being the silent protector or… whatever. But it didn't take long to notice that every time you moved to a new section, he followed. Close. A little too close.

Soon, you were looking through a shelf of random cosmetics when you saw it—a tube of lipstick, half-buried under some packaging. Your fingers closed around it, pulling it free, and you smirked to yourself.

Red. Not just any red—your red.

"Well, would you look at that," you said, holding it up to take a closer look. "A bit of civilization."

Daryl glanced at you out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything. You could feel him watching, though, as you popped the cap off and twisted the lipstick out of the tube.

"I should give this to Princess," you laughed, turning the tube over in your hand. "She'd probably lose her shit."

You paused, pretending to think, then shrugged. "Nah. Think I'll keep it for myself."

And just like that, you dragged the lipstick across your mouth, slowly, like you were painting on war paint.

Rubbing your lips together, you admired the color in the cracked little hand mirror you'd found earlier. "Not too bad for something that's been here for years."

Then, out of curiosity, you looked at Daryl again.

He was frozen.

Absolutely frozen.

His hand was halfway to a shelf like he'd been about to grab something, but now it just hung there uselessly. His eyes—those blue eyes—were staring at your mouth, and for a second, he didn't even blink.

"You think it's my color?" You asked casually, pressing your lips together one more time.

He blinked, pulling his gaze away so fast it was somewhat funny. "Dunno," he grumbled, his voice a little too quiet.

"Mhm." You slipped the lipstick into your pocket, walking past him as you moved to the next shelf. "I'll take that as a yes."

You didn't miss the way his breath stopped when your shoulder touched his arm or the way he stumbled a little awkwardly like he didn't know what to do with himself.

For someone who was supposed to be all tough, he was being downright weird.

But somehow, it was charming.

Then there was the fact that he was still following you.

Every time you moved, he was right behind you, just close enough that you could feel his presence like a shadow behind your back. He wasn't even pretending to look for supplies anymore. His eyes kept looking at you—your hands, your lips—and every time you caught him, he looked away as if feeling guilty.

Pausing in front of another shelf, you were bending down slightly to check the lower level. Behind you, Daryl stopped, and you knew his gaze had dropped—staring at your ass for just a second too long before he looked back up.

When you straightened yourself and turned, he was closer than he had any right to be, his face red and his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

"You okay there, Dixon?" You asked curiously, smiling and raising an eyebrow.

"'M fine," he answered, stepping back like he needed to put space between you. His voice sounded strained, and he was fidgeting with his hands like his life depended on it.

"Okay, if you say so." You took a step closer, just to see what he'd do. He didn't move, but his breath hitched again, and his gaze dropped to your lips before looking into your eyes.

"Jus' don't see how that's useful," he continued. "Ain't exactly what we need."

"Oh, really?" You rolled your eyes, closing the space between you until you were chest to chest, making his breath stutter. "And what is it that you need, Dixon?"

His eyes widened just slightly in an instant, his mouth opening and closing itself as he tried—and failed—to form believable words.

"Hey, c'mon now, Daryl," you said, leaning a bit closer. "A little lipstick never hurt anyone. And I don't do sloppy… in any sense."

You were about to push him further—tease him, maybe wet your red lips just to see if his eyes would follow—when Princess's voice was to be heard from somewhere nearby.

"Hey! Did you find anything good? I found a mannequin missing an arm!"

Daryl practically jumped at the sound of her voice, stepping back so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. His face was red—so red it almost matched the lipstick you'd just found.

"Over here!" You called back, not even bothering to hide your amusement.

Princess came into view as she waved a mannequin arm in the air. "I mean, come on! Look at this thing! Who broke it? And why? Were they mad? Was it for art? The questions are endless!"

"Who knows?" You answered dryly, but still with a little grin on your face.

"Right?" Princess threw the mannequin arm aside. "Anyway, I'm gonna check out the upstairs. Think there might be some supplies up there—maybe even some cool clothes!"

Without waiting for a response, she disappeared around the corner, leaving the two of you alone again. Turning back to Daryl, your grin was widening as you watched him.

Poor man was blushing hard.

His fingers were now tapping his leg like he needed something—anything—to focus on other than you.

You tilted your head, watching him closely and observing every little reaction. "You know," you said, stepping even closer, your voice dropping to a whisper, "red's always been my color. But I think it might look even better on you."

He huffed in response, his shoulders tense as he kept looking to the floor before he stepped away completely.

Oh, this was too much fun.

So you followed Daryl through the aisles, the clicking of your heels almost too loud in the otherwise silent building, but now and then, you'd lean into his space, just close enough. Your clothing creaked with every movement, a sound he could hear and not ignore, no doubt.

A sound that made him nervous.

You didn't even have to try hard. You just had to be you.

But then, as if you weren't satisfied with just that, you turned into the next aisle, stopping in front of something familiar.

A pair of leather gloves. Black, shiny, perfect. You slipped them on with ease, letting the smooth leather slide over your fingers, loving the feeling of it.

Daryl was silent, but you could feel the way his eyes stayed on you from behind.

"Tell me, Daryl," you then started, "what's so interesting about me?"

His eyes didn't leave you, though his lips parted slightly as if to say something. But then he just shook his head, a little breathless. "Nothin'," he responded, looking around.

His hands twitched at his sides as he swallowed hard. He was so close to losing it.

"Well, if you say so." You held your hands up, wiggling your gloved fingers with a smirk. "I think I like the way they feel on me. Makes me want to... touch everything."

Brushing past him accidentally, you moved toward a door with the sign Employees Only, pushing it open with your hip. The room inside was small—only a storage room, judging by the shelves stacked with boxes and random chaos in every corner.

Daryl stopped in the doorway, clearly torn between following you and staying put like a good little watchdog. You didn't give him a choice.

Grabbing his arm, you pulled him inside and kicked the door shut behind him. He stumbled slightly, his wide-eyed expression confused as you turned to face him.

"You know what? I think I missed a spot," you suddenly said, pulling the lipstick from your pocket and holding it up like a weapon.

His brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"My lips," you clarified, pointing at your mouth. "Missed a spot. Hold this for me, would you?"

You grabbed the small mirror again and shoved it into his hands before he could argue. He looked at it like it might bite him, his fingers trembling slightly as he held it up. "Ain't there a mirror right behind—"

You stepped closer—too close—until there was barely a bit of space between you. His breath stopped as you leaned in, looking at your reflection in the little mirror.

"Wait," you said, twisting the lipstick and carefully swiping it over your lips. "Tricky angle. Maybe if I…"

You leaned in closer, your face stopping just inches from his while his chest was rising and falling with quicker breaths by now.

Then, without warning, you pressed your mouth to his cheek, leaving a lipstick kiss on his skin. Daryl stiffened, a quiet, fast groan escaping his throat.

Oh... Oh, that was interesting.

"My bad," you said, not sounding sorry at all. "Must've slipped."

You leaned in again, this time brushing your lips against his jaw. He made that same noise—quiet and desperate—and you felt the tiniest shiver run through him.

So you kept going.

One kiss turned into two. Then three. Each one was slower as you worked your way along his jaw and his throat. His breathing grew heavier, and when you reached his neck, he let out a broken little whine.

"Something wrong, Dixon?" You asked innocently against his skin.

"N-nah," he stammered, but his voice cracked, and the way his hand gripped the mirror told a very different story.

"Okay." You trailed your lips back up to his ear, letting your tongue move along his neck just enough to make him squirm. "You sure about that?"

He whimpered—actually fucking whimpered—and you had to hold back a loud laugh. God, he was pathetic. And it was absolutely adorable.

"Hold still," you commanded, taking his chin between your fingers and tilting his head back slightly. "Haven't reached the spot yet."

Daryl's knees wobbled, and for a moment, you thought he might actually fall.

"Please," he whispered, his voice so soft and quiet it made you growl slightly.

"Please what?" You teased, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip, smudging the faintest bit of lipstick.

"I… I…"

Daryl trailed off as he noticed your smirk, with your lips only a breath away from his. "Use your words, Dixon."

But he didn't.

He just let out another whimper, his body trembling as you leaned in and kissed him again—this time on the lips.

And that was when he completely fell apart.

Daryl didn't say anything—hell, you hadn't expected him to, and in this moment, words weren't needed anyway, because his body said everything for him. The way his shoulders stiffened and his hands shook as he let the broken mirror fall to the floor, the way his eyes looked everywhere but at you, as if looking at you for even a second longer might break him in half.

He didn't even resist when you pushed him back on a dusty old chair in the corner of the room. The thing looked like it hadn't been sat on since before the world ended, but you didn't care. You shoved him down into it, straddling his lap before he had a chance to protest against it, trapping him under you like the helpless little thing he was.

His breath hitched again—barely, but enough to make you smirk, as his hands hovered awkwardly near your thighs, not daring to touch you unless you told him to. You tilted your head, studying his face, and watching the way he was trying to hold himself together.

"Don't worry, Dixon," you said, holding up the lipstick. "Gonna make you look pretty."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he didn't argue. Not verbally, anyway.

You leaned in, swiping the lipstick across your lips, making sure it was freshly applied. Then, you turned your attention back to him. You put a soft red dot right next to his mouth, just a tiny spot, and he squirmed under your touch. His lips parted, a shaky breath escaping him as you dragged your thumb over the mark, smearing it across his cheek. The leather of your glove against his skin made him flinch—only a little bit—and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Look at you," you continued. "What a pretty boy you are."

Daryl's only response was a soft whine, so soft it got almost lost. Almost.

You leaned closer, pressing your lips to his neck again, leaving another kiss and mark against his skin. Then another, just below it, and another still, moving down to the collar of his shirt. His breathing was uneven now, shallow and fast, and you could feel the way his heart was beating faster and faster.

When you reached his chest, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged, opening a few of the buttons with ease. "Don't need this in the way, do we?"

You kissed him there, leaving another red mark against his skin and another below it, just like before. You worked your way down as you slid off his legs, slowly, marking him in your color, inch by inch.

By the time you reached his waistband, you didn't even need to look up to know he was gone. His body was trembling in front of you, his hands gripping his thighs like they were the only thing keeping him sane. You then glanced down at the obvious bulge straining against his pants and back up at his face. He looked done—blushing, panting, eyes almost closed and glazed over with need.

"You're so cute," you smirked, dragging your gloved hand over and down his abs. He let out a choked groan when you stopped just above his waistband, teasing the skin with the leather. "Getting this turned on from lipstick? That's all it takes?"

"Shut up," Daryl grumbled, his voice all shaky, but there was no anger behind his words. His eyes dropped to your hands again—those goddamn gloves.

He hated how they looked on you, hated how perfect they fit, how they moved so roughly against his skin. It wasn't right how much it got to him. He was embarrassing, wasn't he? Letting a pair of gloves own him like this.

Letting you own him.

And yet, he couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop imagining what it would feel like if you wrapped those gloved fingers around his throat instead, squeezing just enough to make him feel dizzy, to make him beg for air. The thought alone made his cock twitch, and he hated himself for it. Hated how much he wanted it.

"How sweet, did I embarrass you?" You asked, tilting your head. Your fingers moved lower, brushing over the bulge in his pants again, and he tensed up, a whimper escaping his lips before he could stop it.

You laughed softly, grabbing his bulge a little bit rougher. "You're so hard, poor thing... Bet it hurts, doesn't it?"

Daryl didn't answer, just let out another broken little moan, hips bucking up into your touch like he couldn't help himself.

"Pathetic," you said, shaking your head. "But I guess I'll take pity on you. Only this once."

You undid his belt and yanked his pants down just enough to free him, his cock springing up against his abs, hard and leaking.

Not even giving him time to adjust, you positioned yourself more comfortably onto your knees in front of him and holding the lipstick up again, you twisted it and painted a slow, messy line along the length of his shaft, leaving behind a perfect mark of red against his skin. He let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a whine, his head falling back against the chair.

"Look at you," you teased, putting the lipstick aside. "So fucking pretty, don't you think?"

You slipped one gloved hand around his cock in an instant before he could respond, gripping him just tight enough to make him squirm, and started stroking slowly up and down, letting the leather glide over him. His reaction was immediate—hips bucking, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent groan.

"P-please," he choked out, voice barely more than a broken whisper.

You smiled as you continued to stroke him, slow and merciless. "Please what, Dixon? Gotta use your words."

"Please," he whined again, louder this time, hips bucking into your hand. "Please, I—fuck—jus'—"

But you didn't let him finish. You tightened your grip, cutting him off with a rough squeeze, and he cried out, a loud, desperate sound that had you grinning from ear to ear.

"Good boy," you whispered, dragging your thumb along the tip of his cock. "Come on, Daryl. Let me hear you."

And oh, he obeyed.

"Haven't even done anything yet, and you're already that close? What a shame."

Daryl sobbed—an actual, honest-to-god sob—and you could feel the way his thighs tensed beneath you. His hands were gripping the sides of his legs so hard his knuckles had gone white like he needed something to hold onto or he'd completely come undone.

"Gonna give you what you need, don't worry," you told him, pulling back just enough to look up into his face, "but only 'cause you're looking so damn pretty like this. All red and so needy. Now… Sit still."

Kneeling between his spread legs, you were tugging his pants down further to get them out of the way. His cock was so slick at the tip, leaking pre-cum over and over, and when you wrapped your fingers around him once more to keep it steady, he gasped, and his hips jerked involuntarily, making you give him a warning look that froze him instantly.

"Don't move," you said. "You wanna be a good boy for me, don't you?"

He nodded several times, lips parted and panting wildly. "Y-yeah…"

"That's what I wanna hear from you, Daryl," you smirked, grabbing the lipstick and moving it underneath the tip of his cock, painting a small, messy red heart under it next.

Daryl gasped, his head falling forward, his whole body trembling as you worked. "F-fuck," he stammered, voice shaking. "What—what're ya—"

"Be quiet," you said, still smirking as you painted the tiny heart. "Told you I'd make you look all pretty, didn't I?"

You put the lipstick aside when you were satisfied, leaning in close to press your lips right onto the tip of his cock, leaving another faint smudge behind. He let out a broken groan, his thighs now quivering under your touch, his hips bucking up once more before he caught himself.

"Stay still," you warned again, gripping his cock harder. "Don't make me tell you again."

"'M sorry," he whimpered, but you weren't interested in apologies. His lungs were fighting for air as he tried—and failed—to keep quiet. But your voice, that lovely, mocking tone, went straight through every bit of his self-control like it wasn't even there. You didn't need to say much. Just the way you looked at him… it wrecked him.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," you said, running your gloved thumb over the lipstick-smeared tip of his cock. He whimpered again, loud and desperate as you teased him further. "You're lucky I'm even touching you after that. You're so fucking pathetic, Daryl. All this just from a little lipstick. You like being my toy that much, huh?"

He nodded, his head tilting back, not wanting to look you in the eyes, but you had other plans.

"Look at me," you snapped, and his eyes flew open. "You're gonna watch," you continued, leaning in to kiss the side of his cock softly, leaving more smudged marks in your wake. "You're gonna watch, Dixon. And you're gonna thank me for it."

"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking more with every word, and you felt almost satisfied with how wrecked he sounded. "Please, I—Shit, shit, I can't—"

"Can't what?" You interrupted, pressing your other hand to his abs to keep him from moving as you kissed your way along the length of his cock. "Can't handle it? Can't stop yourself from being a whiny little boy for me?"

He let out a choked cry, his hands moving to the sides of the chair this time, gripping them so hard it looked like he might rip it apart.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," you grumbled against his throbbing shaft, kissing him just above his base before dragging your tongue back up to the tip to smear the line of red all along it.

"God, you're so fucking needy," you said. "You should thank me for making you look this pretty. Go on, baby—say thank you. Thank me for making you look this pretty."

"Th-thanks," he choked out, just before he apologized. "'M sorry!"

"You're not sorry," you laughed, shaking your head in disapproval. "You'd let me do this to you forever, wouldn't you? Tell me, do you even wanna be a good boy for me?"

"Yes," he gasped, the word barely more than a breath. "Yes, please, I—fuck, I do! I—"

Indeed, he wanted to be good for you. Wanted to do what you told him, no matter what it was, no matter how much it made his face burn. Because when you praised him—when you called him a good boy, even in that mocking tone—it felt like salvation.

And when you didn't, when you laughed and shook your head like he'd disappointed you… That was worse than the end of the world. Literally. He couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand not being enough for you. So he'd do anything—anything—if it meant you'd look at him like he was worthy of your time. Even if it was just for a moment.

"Oh, I know you do," you said, smirking as you tightened your grip. "But you're not good enough. Not yet, at least. You're gonna sit there and listen to my every command. Understand? Just sit still and be quiet."

Daryl nodded frantically, his breath hitching as you started to stroke him again, slow and torturous, dragging your gloved hand up and down his shaft. He was a mess—whimpering, gasping, his head thrown back, his body so stiff, and his muscles flexing.

The rough feeling of the leather against his sensitive cock was driving him insane, his hips jerking up into your hand despite himself. It throbbed painfully, aching with a need that made him want to scream.

He hated how much it turned him on, how much he craved it, but fuck, there was no escaping it. The feeling of your leather gloves, the smirk on your lips, the way you tilted your head and insulted him like he was just some toy for you to play with… it made him feel small and weak, and somehow, that only made him harder. He hated how much he loved it, how much he needed it.

You were training him, and he was letting you.

No—he was begging for it.

"I told you to keep still," you suddenly said, pulling your hand away. He whimpered, his cock twitching, and you swore his entire body tensed. "You really don't know how to behave, do you? You want to be good for me, but you're only acting all pathetic instead."

"I—I can be good," he stammered, his voice shaking as his hands gripped the chair tighter, desperate to keep himself quiet. "Please, I can—"

"Shut up," you snapped, cutting him off. "If you could behave, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

You didn't give him a chance to respond before wrapping your hand around him again, tighter this time, stroking him slowly from base to tip. He groaned, his hips twitching again, but he stopped himself before he bucked up fully.

"There you go," you praised mockingly, your gloved thumb brushing over his leaking tip once more. "Knew you could listen if I kept you desperate enough. Such a good little thing when you wanna be, huh?"

Daryl whined, his lips parted. "Fuck," he choked out, his voice all desperate. "Please, I—fuck, I can't—"

"Again?" You asked, jerking him faster now, watching as the muscles of his arms flexed. "Can't handle how good this feels? Can't stop yourself from being such a greedy, slutty boy for me? You can't what?"

He made a sound you could only describe as a wail as you decided to slap his cock with your gloved hand out of nowhere. His head shot up, eyes wide, his lips quivering as he stared down at you.

"Did I say you could move?" You asked, your voice cold. He shook his head quickly, a tiny tear rolling down his cheek as he whimpered out another apology.

"Good," you said quietly, smirking as you slapped his cock again, just a little harder this time. It twitched in your hand, and he let out a strangled moan as he tried to brace himself for whatever you'd do next.

"Would you look at that," you laughed, pumping his cock again. "Getting even harder from me slapping your dick. You're so damn ridiculous, Daryl."

"N-no," he whispered. "I—I love… I—I, fuck, please, I need—"

"You need?" You repeated with a grin, laughing as you pressed another kiss to the underside of his cock. The lipstick smeared against his skin as you kissed it some more, this time so fast he could barely feel it. "Go on. Tell me what you need, baby. Use your words."

"Need ya," he choked out, his voice breaking further. "Need ya to—to finish me, please. I'll be good, I swear—"

"You'll be good? That's what you keep saying," you said before you slapped his cock again, hard enough to make him flinch. Daryl just whimpered, and you shook your head. "You don't even know how to be good, Dixon. You're just a desperate, whiny little brat."

"Please," he begged and cried, some more tiny tears rolling down his cheek. "Please, I'll do anythin', jus'—jus' don't stop!"

You laughed louder, stroking his cock a little quicker now, watching as his eyes rolled back, his chest rising up and down with each breath. "So adorable," you said, leaning in to press one more lipstick kiss to the tip of his cock, making sure the red was looking messy. "Keep begging for me, baby. Let me hear and see just how desperate you can get."

Your pace turned ruthless soon, stroking him hard and fast, watching as Daryl lost himself more and more. His breath came out in quick gasps, his body trembling so violently you thought he might come on the spot. He was close already—so damn close—and you could feel it in the way his cock throbbed wildly in your grip, could hear it in the way he moaned for more like it was the only thing he could do.

"Gonna come soon for me?" You teased as your gloved hand moved in unforgiving pumps up and down his shaft. "That's why you're so fucking ridiculous, Daryl. You're literally trembling! Bet you're imagining me riding you, huh? Bet you'd come in seconds if I even tried. Poor little baby boy can't handle anything, can you? Pathetic."

"Please," he whined out over and over again as a sob tore from his throat. "Please, I—I'm so close—fuck, I—"

Then you suddenly stopped, removing your hand from his cock.

His eyes flew open immediately, wide and glassy, his lips parted in shock as he stared at you like you'd just ripped his soul out of his body.

"Wha—no, no, no," he whimpered, his voice a broken plea as his hands gripped his thighs so tightly again that his knuckles turned white once more. "Please, don't stop—please, I'll do anythin'! I'll—"

"Quiet," you interrupted, pressing a gloved finger to his lips after you stood up. His voice died immediately, though he let out a pitiful little sob as his eyes dropped to your hand, noticing his pre-cum smeared on the leather.

"You really are adorable," you laughed, smirking as you tilted your head, watching the way his eyes looked frantically from your glove to your face. "So fucking needy you can't even obey. Do you even know how greedy you are right now?"

He whimpered again, nodding and squirming beneath you, his hips jerking up involuntarily as if he thought you might touch him again. But you didn't. Instead, you dragged your gloved finger slowly across his bottom lip, smearing a mix of pre-cum and lipstick along his mouth.

"Go on," you said, your tone sounding commanding as you pressed the tip of your finger harder against his mouth. "Lick it off. Be a good boy for me, Daryl."

His eyes widened even further, his hands trembling as he stared at you, another blush immediately rising to his cheeks. "Wh—what?" He stammered, his voice barely audible.

"You heard me," you shot back, arching an eyebrow. "Lick it off. Or do you want me to stop entirely? Maybe I should just go away. Maybe I'll leave you alone here like this—so hard and desperate… with no one to help you."

"N-no," he stuttered quickly, shaking his head as another tear rolled down his cheek. "I—I'll do it, jus'—don't leave, please, I'll do it! I—"

"That's what I wanna hear," you smiled as you pressed your finger more roughly against his lips. "Now, be a good boy and show me how much you want it. How much you want me to finish you."

With a shaky breath, Daryl opened his mouth, slowly at first, his tongue brushing against the leather. You could see his hesitation, the way his body quivered beneath you, but he didn't stop. He licked up his own pre-cum, his face flushed red and his eyes now closed as if that might somehow help him.

"Licking up your disgusting mess like the desperate little thing you are. You really have no shame, do you, Daryl?"

The word 'shame' hit him with every little sound he'd made so far. And yet, somehow, it was addicting. The pain of your words, the way you handled him like he was not worth your time. It hurt, and he wanted more of it. Needed more of it. It was sick, wasn't it? Letting you tear him down, scold him, mock him… and feeling like he'd die without it. You were breaking him, and he didn't want you to stop.

Daryl's tongue was still moving over your glove, cleaning it like his life depended on it. When he was done, he pulled back slightly, opening his eyes a little to look up into yours.

He'd worship you if you told him to. He'd beg and plead at your feet if it meant you'd touch him again, even if it was just to insult him. The thought of it—of being that desperate for you—made him feel even more shame.

But shame had never felt so good.

"Good boy," you praised him, cupping his cheek with your free hand, smirking as you watched the way he leaned into your touch when you stroked his cheek lovingly. "See? You can behave when you really want to."

"Please," he then whispered, his voice broken, his cock still throbbing and twitching against his abs. "Please—'M good; I promise... I'll—"

"Oh, I know, I know," you interrupted, your smirk widening as you wrapped your gloved hand around him again, giving him one slow, light stroke. His moans came out in cries now, pitiful and still needy, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he begged for the friction he so desperately needed. You leaned in close, stopping right next to his ear as you whispered, "You want to come now, don't you?"

"Y-yeah," he begged, his voice shaking, his breath hitching with every stroke of your hand. "Please, I—I need it—please, jus' let me—"

You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, almost tenderly, before you slid down between his legs again, and his eyes were glued to you as he panted like he'd been running for miles.

Then, without any warning, you moved your mouth to his cock again—but this time, instead of just teasing the tip with kisses, you took him fully past your lips, wrapping your mouth around him. The sudden feeling of it all hit him at once.

"Oh—fuck, fuck!" He let out a strangled cry as his hips bucked uncontrollably, trying to fuck deeper into your mouth. "Please… please, 'M gonna… please, don't stop—"

You sucked hard at the tip of his cock as you bobbed your head just once—slowly—before pulling back with a wet sound, holding it tightly in your grip. "Go on now, be a good boy, and come for me."

It pushed him right over the edge—he couldn't hold back, not when you had him so suddenly, so fast, in your mouth, only to leave him hanging once more as if he didn't deserve the feeling of your lips around him.

Daryl's eyes were shocked, his expression wild with panic, but you didn't give him a chance to protest. His orgasm hit him hard and much too fast, his body shaking uncontrollably, his cock throbbing in your grip as his cum shot over your glove and himself.

"Fuck, fuck, I—I'm sorry!" He sobbed. "'M sorry, I—I didn't mean to!"

You didn't soften your grip, holding his shaft through the last of it, watching as he whimpered and squirmed, his cock twitching helplessly in your hand.

"Still pathetic," you answered as you leaned back on your heels, looking at the mess he'd made of himself. "Can't even come properly, can you?"

"I—I'm sorry," he whispered again, his eyes now squeezed shut as if he didn't know whether to keep them open or not. "Didn't mean to—please, I'm sorry—"

"Shut up," you responded before you reached out to scoop up some of his cum with your gloved fingers. "Look at this nasty shit... Open your mouth and clean it up. Again."

His eyes shot open at that, full of embarrassment once more. But he didn't argue. Not now.

"Lick and swallow, baby," you teased as you watched him suck his cum off your glove, his breath still coming in short, ragged bursts.

By the time he was finished, he was trembling so badly you thought he might collapse all over. And as you stood up, taking a step back and straightening your gloves, you knew you'd left your mark on him.

But Daryl couldn't think. Hell, he could barely even react.

His chest was still heaving as he slumped back in the chair, every muscle in his body flexing from his orgasm. His cock was still half-hard, but he hadn't even thought to tuck himself away, too wrecked to do anything but sit there and take it. His lips were bitten bloody, swollen from how he'd chewed them trying not to embarrass himself even further, but it hadn't worked.

Not when you had gotten every sob, every whimper, out of him like you'd planned it that way.

His half-lidded eyes followed you as you picked up your lipstick and moved away from him in your thigh-high boots. Daryl didn't know where to look—your thighs, your ass, your lips. All of it was overwhelming, and shit, how he loved it. He felt completely done in your presence and at your mercy, and for some reason, that only made the ever-present need in himself worse.

Suddenly turning around, you didn't say a word as you approached him again. His heart was pounding in his chest as you stepped closer, every click of your heels on the floor shooting straight through him, making his head spin.

When you stopped in front of him, he thought—prayed—you were done with him. But you didn't back away. No, you leaned in, close enough that your warm breath touched his neck, and lifted one of your boots, pressing it between his knees.

Daryl's breath caught in his throat as it slid along his inner thighs, just barely brushing against the skin there. His hips bucked involuntarily, the movement pitiful even to him, but he couldn't stop himself. He felt it—you—your boot moving higher, pressing hard enough between his thighs and down onto his still-sensitive cock.

Shit…

The feeling was maddening. The pressure on his balls made him whine, and his hands didn't know what to do as he fought the urge to grind against the feeling of your boot like a desperate brat.

He sure as hell felt it all.

He felt how you owned every inch of his body. And he knew it.

Your boot pressed down harder, forcing a choked groan from his lips, but you didn't care.

"Speak up," you then demanded out of nowhere. "Tell me what you are, Daryl."

"I—I'm…" He stammered, his voice sounding weak.

"You're what?" Your boot pressed some more, grinding just enough to send a bit of pain through his cock, and his body flinched. "Say it. Say how pathetic you are."

"'M pathetic," he whispered without any kind of hesitation, his face still burning red, and his hips bucked slightly again.

He shouldn't want this—not after the mess he'd already made of himself—but his body didn't seem to care as his cock gave another faint twitch.

You leaned in further, and the extra weight against him made him whine. Your breasts were practically in his face now, the sight of your tits teasing him as you adjusted the pressure of your boot just enough to make his head spin.

Goddamn it.

Without another word, you tilted your head up and began reapplying your lipstick after having it pulled out of your pocket again, your eyes never leaving your reflection in the mirror.

Daryl tried to look away, embarrassed by the way his heart raced at something so simple, but your free hand shot out, grabbing his chin roughly and forcing his gaze up to look at you.

You used the opportunity to put the lipstick onto your lips slowly—intentionally—making him watch, making him wait. And the kiss you then put on his cheek felt like fire before you were pulling your boot away slowly like you wanted him to miss it.

When you were done and finally spoke, your voice sounded lovingly, praising him.

"My adorable little boy," you whispered, smirking at him before you turned around without another word and walked toward the door.

Daryl could still only sit there as he watched you leave. The sight of your ass in those tight clothes would haunt him as well; he was sure of it.

He let out a deep, shaky breath, his head dropping back against the chair as he tried to pull himself together. But the red stains on his skin and the faint ache in his muscles reminded him that he was anything but together.

And maybe he never would be, no, not when it came to you.

Daryl stared at the door long after you'd left, his heart pounding in his ears.

As soon as he tried to stand up, his eyes looked at the mirror mounted on the wall behind him, and he gulped at the sight staring back at him. He was covered in red stains, the smudges of your lipstick marking him like a trophy.

He reached up, touching the marks as if it would make them disappear, but they didn't. The color clung to his skin, and it wasn't just there. His body felt raw and wrecked. And lower—Jesus Christ…

He finally looked down at his still-open pants. The red smudges on his cock were obvious, every print of your mouth burned onto him like a brand. He didn't bother cleaning it off. Hell, the thought of wiping your lipstick away felt wrong, like getting rid of a memory he wasn't ready to lose. Instead, he tucked himself back into his pants, the marks hidden but not forgotten.

Daryl tried to focus, to get his head straight, but his hands shook as he buttoned up.

His reflection stared back at him, lips parted, eyes wide, and that look on his face—the one that screamed for more—made him groan softly.

Get it t'gether. C'mon.

But he couldn't. Not when his legs felt like jelly… until the door creaked open behind him, and his whole body tensed.

"C'mon, Dixon," your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "We're leaving."

Daryl turned slowly, watching you lean against the frame. You didn't even look at the mess you'd made of him, your eyes already looking away like you expected him to follow without a second thought.

Of course, he did. He walked after you, his head ducked low as if scolded.

Princess's voice was to be heard somewhere ahead, but Daryl barely listened to it, too focused on you as you led the way.

You stopped all of a sudden, and he almost bumped into you, too distracted by everything to notice you'd turned again. Before he could step back, your hand shot out, grabbing his cock roughly through his pants with a hard squeeze.

Daryl froze, choking out a strangled groan, his face burning as you pressed just enough to make him feel it.

"Still following me like a good boy, huh? What? Gonna bark if there's a walker around and getting too close?"

Daryl didn't answer. No, he couldn't. He swallowed hard, his hips twitching against your touch.

"Should I get you a leash? Maybe you wanna be all dolled up? Is that what you wanna be, Dixon? My pretty little pet? Say it."

His head spun before he stammered something like, "Y-yes, 'm yer pet," but you couldn't quite make it out as your other hand tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

You looked him up and down, your eyes dropping to his neck, where one of the red stains remained.

"Good," you said, releasing him with a few pats to his cheek. "Next time," you whispered, "we'll see if you look as pretty in a collar."

Daryl's legs trembled as you stepped away, but he didn't have time to steady himself before Princess appeared out of nowhere, searching for the both of you.

"Y'all find anything good?"

You didn't even hesitate, grinning at her as you patted Daryl's head and then his chest—right where one of the lipstick marks was smeared beneath his shirt.

"Oh, I haven't found anything worthy of my time just yet," you responded. "I'm just walking the dog."

Princess stopped, tilting her head to the side with a slight frown. "The dog? Wait, we got no—"

But you were already stepping away, leaving Daryl and Princess standing there, his face red as he struggled to keep up.

He followed you, of course. Just like you knew he would. And God help him, he wanted to follow you anywhere.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Thanks for reading! I've got a couple of ideas for a possible follow-up—maybe next time we'll see what happens when he gets a little treat, or what happens when he misbehaves just a bit too much. Just saying, there’s plenty more I could do with this. So... If you enjoyed this, drop a comment, reblog, or leave some kudos. Even if you hated it, I wouldn’t mind knowing—feedback always helps!

[satsuha]

personally i really like nahyuta and ema's relationship because i feel like it shows just how unused to having any kind of normal relationship nahyuta is. like everyone he loves is either out of reach or dangerous for him to approach or literally impossible for him to act normally around because of secrets that haven't been revealed. the only other significant relationship he has is with his tyrannical aunt .

ema is perfect because she's an outsider but she's also already on his side (legally speaking) so there's far less danger in him spending more time with her. at the same time he's probably acutely aware that he can't get too friendly; it's bad enough that his sister and mother are in ga'ran's clutches and he does not need her catching wind of another person to leverage against him. with her nahyuta can always fall back on the reasoning that she's useful to his prosecutorial duties in a way that he couldn't with apollo and especially not datz and dhurke

on top of all that the nahyuta and lana parallels are Not Subtle at all and while ema has no idea about it for the majority of the game's runtime i can be a bit delusional and say with nahyuta's tendency to do such extensive background research before his cases he probably does the same with people he works with. nahyuta reading about the sl-9 incident and feeling a kind of kinship to her even if she isn't made aware of any of it... maybe it's even the thing that makes him realize that he still holds out for the idea of dhurke saving him one day

i don't think nahyuta and ema would've discussed lana at all during the events of the game but as soon as everything's out in the open i feel like she would scold him soo badly. saying how he's lucky everything turned out how it did and that he'd better not waste any time bonding with rayfa from now on...

[macsimagines]

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa Soulmate AU

I would rlly appreciate feed back on this one!! I'm unsure if i made it big enough

MINORS DNI

WARNINGS: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR MENTION OF PHYSICAL VIOLENCE

Everyone is born with a tattoo that they share with their soulmate. A one of a kind design that can never be replicated and can only be connected to one other soul on the planet.

Izana's is on his inner wrist. A delicate spider-lily with peacock feathers that wrap around. The intricate lines and colors are so expansive and vibrant.

As a child he'd often get compliments on it, but as he grew older he had started to resent his soul mark. All it represented was that someone out there had truly existed only for him and yet they were no where to be found.

More and more people left him as time went on and it just truly deepened the feeling of being utterly alone.

Sometimes at night he'd stroke the lines of the flower petals, maybe even kiss along the feathers. He could feel you through this connection, he could feel you kiss and stroke the lines back.

"I'm here," is what it would seem to say, "You're not alone, I feel you, I love you."

But there were days that the isolation was too much, that the loneliness just seemed to consume him whole. Izana would scratch at his mark, curse it and bite at it, hoping you'd feel that pain and know that your absence was killing him.

You not being there was the greatest sin you could ever commit and he wanted you to know it. To hurt like how he was hurting.

Eventually, it didn't matter if he stroked his wrist with loving softness or if he'd rake his blunt finger nails so roughly he'd start to bleed. You'd stop responding altogether.

Izana didn't understand how he'd manage to loose something he never really had to begin with. How he could possibly miss someone he never even knew.

Years went on. He'd become a monster of Tenjiku. A ruthless king and soulless tyrant that ruled over all his subjects with an iron fist. He bit back that bitter hole in his chest and would ignore that withered flower on his wrist. He didn't need you, or anyone.

The very topic of Soulmates and Soulmarks were forbidden. One mention of it would result in a trip to the ER or worse yet the morgue. Soulmates just made you weak.

Or so he thought when Kakucho had approached him one day, a wary and tense look in his eyes.

"B-boss?" he'd said carefully, "I... I think I found your soulmate?"

For one split second hope had flooded back into him, bringing an ugly vulnerability he thought he'd eliminated as a child. But he quickly smashed it back down. So what? You meant nothing. You should mean nothing.

"I don't think I asked you to butt in needlessly. Should I just burn your mark right off and teach you a lesson?"

Threats like that were worse than threatening someone's life, and Izana feels a quick thrill in him when he watches his loyal dog put a hand on his mark, a beautiful and vivid butterfly surrounded by swirls on his chest. Right over his heart. Pathetic.

"S-she's working at a cafe. I saw the flower on her wrist same as y-!"

The king is sending Kakucho flying before he can even finish that sentence. His fist connecting with his chin and repeating over and over again.

Working. Of course. You weren't looking for him. You just moved on as though he meant nothing to you. He didn't mean anything to anyone.

When he's done with using Kakucho like a personal punching bag, he's getting the information he really wants. Your location.

He doesn't need you or want you. But you belong to him. He owns you and you don't get to live a life without him anymore, pretending he doesn't exist.

Izana walks in like he owns the café. Like he's ready to just grab you and throw you over his shoulder like a bag of rice, but then his eyes meet yours and something ugly in his chest squeezes.

Your eyes? They're so hollow. Like all the light has been drained from them and you're just wearing a human skin. It's like looking at someone dead.

He sees the mark on your wrist and there is no doubt that its his exact match but the colors look so dull and faded. Like the soul bond was slowly withering away from it.

But he steels himself. He pushes all that nonsense that makes his heart feel soft away and moves towards you. You don't even flinch when he slams his fist down onto the counter, making sure his mark is in plain view. "Hello and welcome to Kitten's Coffee, how can I help you-""Don't fuck with me. You know why I'm here.""To tell me you hate me in person?"

What the fuck? What would make you say that? You felt how much his heart yearned for you all those years ago. How it drove him completely insane to not have you.

But he's watching the dull color in your eyes get wet with tears, and something is telling Izana that somewhere along the way a grave mistake had been made. "You rejected me." you spit at him, voice shaking with a quiet rage, "It didn't matter how much love I poured into our bond, you were angry with me. You hated me. Scratching and biting at our mark like you wanted it gone, like you wanted me dead." Izana tastes something so bitter on his tongue it makes his stomach revolt. "Y-you weren't there," he hisses, "I needed you and you never came for me." "You didn't look for me either. Do you think you were the only one suffering?"

Silence fills the space between you. And Izana feels weight after weight fill his chest. Every emotion he held back every feeling he tried to smother down coming up in uncontrollable waves.

His hand reaches out and takes your wrist, delicately, and he traces the lines of your matching tattoo. You thought it was rejection when all it was was a punishment. He just wanted you to know how much he missed you.

Tears are streaming down your face, your perfect beautiful face. And Izana really takes you all in. His soulmate, perfection incarnate, in front of him. Everything he never knew he wanted and needed finally in front of him.

He takes you then and there. Not bothering to worry about the stares of all those on lookers. Who cares what peasants think? He loves that you don't fight, you must know that he knows best. That he'll make this right.

Izana doesn't hold back, the minute you two are alone he makes sure to tell you everything. He tells you about how he was abandoned and alone, how the world without you was unbearable. The first and only time he will accept that he was wrong was about you.

"I should've never taken it out on my mark. You're right. I should've just came and found you."

And you? Your head is spinning from all the whiplash. One second you're making coffees for Karens and the next your Tenjiku's queen. And if you don't like it? Too fucking bad.

You're moving in the very next day, and Izana is already discussing plans for marriage and a family. "The ceremony is only a formality. I just want people to see us together."

Of course he takes into consideration what you want. He wants to know it all, favorite foods and movies and clothes. He just won't listen to you saying you want to leave.

It's an unspoken rule with a looming threat of drastic measures if you do. "I can't imagine what would happen if I ever lost you, Y/N. It'd be a real nightmare for everyone."

Anyone that looks at you funny? Is disposed of at once. Any body rude to you? Sent to the ER on a stretcher. Someone wants to question or deny a request of yours? Dead.

Oh, Your soul mark? Its lavished with love and affection. He makes sure to use very expensive and high end moisturizer on your skin but pays extra attention to your mark. Kissing it tenderly and whispering sweet nothings onto the design like he's telling your very heart.

You wished it didn't have such an intense affect on you. But after years of thinking you were rejected and hated to suddenly being so loved and adored had your poor head spinning. "Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of everything."

[fuzzythoughtsblog]

Warning this work contains CnC specifically dark CnC rated :

🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊 - I will elaborately on the rating scale latter but 5 is the highest. You have been warned now enjoy:

I exit my class room only to be grabbed by my girlfriend.

"Where the fuck were you? " she says gripping my arm to the point I'm losing feeling.

" I was just in class. Zara please let go! "

"Oh really your were in class? Why weren't you answering your phone? I told you I want you to be available 24/7! " she says now pressing me into a wall as people move past us

"That teacher doesn't allow phones. Besides I was busy... " she grabs my jaw as slams me back into the the wall before I can finish.

"Busy doing what? Being a slut! " she screams while people turn and look at us

"No! I was studying. Baby people are starring. "

"You think I fucking care! They can stare all they want, that's probably what you like everyone watching you! Fucking attention whore! “ she says as she moves her hands to my throat " Your probably showing my pussy to anyone who will look. Can't answer my text because your to busy getting dicked down, is that it?"

"No ... Please ... stop ... I can't breathe... I'm sorry... Please. " I heave through gasp as I try to pry her off of me

"I fucking knew it! Stupid bitch! " she tells before grabbing my braids and dragging me to the bathroom. "Stupid fucking cheating slut! "

She slams me into the wall and begins to pull down my shirt. While I beg her to stop.

I feel a sharp sting across my face, as the slap registers. In a state of shock I stop moving giving her enough time to bite me till she breaks skin.

"It hurts, stop, please. " I cry trying to pull her off.

"I don't fucking care I have to leave my mark to let everyone you try to fuck know your mine. " she says before biting the other side of my neck.

"I didn't ... cheat please stop! "

'You think I'm dumb whore, you were just apologizing for it. Now you want to act all innocent. Did you let them cum in you? Huh" she says while grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.

"I didn't I swear, please stop. " I beg while looking in her eyes which just makes her more angry. She grabs my throat again but this time tighter as tight as she could. "Admit it. "

I begin to thrash against her for breath while clawing at her hands.

"I can't ... breathe." I say voice almost nonexistent

"If you admit it ill let you go. "

"Please ... " I manage to squeak out as the corners of my eyes go dark

"Admit it! "

"I'm sorry." I cough as I feel my body becoming limp.

Just as I begin to see stars she let's me go. Sending me dry heaving for breathe as I fall to the floor legs to numb to carry me.

"I fucking knew it! " she says as she lifts my head up by my hair.

I can't only keep catching my breath as she throws me into the wall.

"I want you to say it! " she say leaning down to my level "Say you couldn't answer your girlfriends text because you were busy being a cheap slut. "

"I'm sorry, I couldn't answer your text because I was being a slut. " I whimper crawling into a ball.

"Fuck, well here's what were going to do. " she says before grabbing my already sore neck. "If your going to be a whore I might as well make money off of it. "

"What ? " I manage to choke out

"You fucking heard me! If you going to be a slut might as well whore you out! Now take your fucking clothes off! "She says while grabbing for my clothes

"No, please" I cry while shrieking away

"Shut the fuck up! You did this to yourself! All I want is a loving girlfriend and instead I get a thirsty slut! You need to make it up to me now strip! " she yells while grabbing my arms and uncrossing them

"No Zara! I won't, don't touch me we're done! " I scream as I flail into her.

However, my words cause her to pause for a second, not let go just pause. Which causes me to pause. Zara then begins to laugh before wrestling me to the ground.

"You think you get to say when we're done? Dead fucking wrong whore! I've put to much into this relationship just for you to end it because you got caught! No! Unless you want me to leak those beautiful pictures of your being a fucked out mess to your parents, I decided when we're done. Or do you want poor mommy dearest to see the videos of you being my little pornstar? " she remarks with a smirk.

Moving my arms so she's holding me down with one hand while reaching for her phone with the other.

"No, please I'm sorry. Zara I'm sorry! " I beg

She stops and looks at me. In a cooing tone while swiping away my tears she says "I know baby, now strip. " letting go at the end of her sentence.

Reluctantly I sit up and begin removing my top. Causing her to let up off of me enough that I can remove my skirt.

"There we go. You can keep the bra on. " she says while beginning to stand up.

As I take off my panties I begin to stand up.

"No, stay down and kneel. "

As I do as told she beings riffling through my bag before pulling out a sharpie and a piece of paper.

"What you think, I say a dollar to write on you , two to hit you, four to use your mouth or your hand, and ten to shove something in your cunt? Does that sound reasonable to you? "

I lower my head as she writes on the paper.

"Mmmh, oh here's an idea an extra dollar to cum in your mouth and you swallow it. Fuck it an extra 5 to cum in your cunt. " she say while scribbling on the paper.

She then tapes the paper to my chest and waits. The first couple of girls looked shocked. The next couple of girls whispered and almost took a picture before Zara stopped them asking if they wanted to pay.

Zara looked frustrated until a girl walked up in front of us and handed Zara a crumpled up 5 dollar bill as she pulled down her pants as she shoved my face into her crotch. Hesitantly I look at Zara who glares at me.

I then slowly begin to lick at her clit as the girl presses me closer I begin changing between licks and sucks wanting to get this over with. I feel as she begins to quiver and rock into me, intertwining her fingers with my hair as she does. Encourage I keep sucking on her clit and begin pressing my tongue into her causing her to rut hard into me. She then begins to be more and more rough with me as she gets closer and closer. Slamming her hips into me until I almost can't breathe while griping onto my hair for balance. Finally after the abuse she cums. Filling my mouth with her vile. I almost gag as I swallow. When she done the girl hufs and pulls up her pants before walking off.

And then we wait, as her taste remains fresh on my tongue. The next girl who shows some interest laughs at me and begins to talking to Zara. The two begin talking about my body and how much of as whore I am. Until the girl gives Zara three dollars. She the grabs the marker and writes "cheap slut " above my boobs before slapping me. As I begin to tear up the girl laughs and walks away.

The next woman I recognize as one of the professors. Ashamed I begin to cover my self until Zara grabs my wrist.

"Behave! "

Zara and the professor talk. The professor asks if they can shove something other than a toy or cock into my cunt. To which Zara nods. The professor then asks Zara if she can get a little discount for not reporting this. To which Zara agrees to by giving her a free hit and a free mark. Zara the hands the professor some lube and a condom. And to my surprise the teacher begins stretching the latex around the end of a metal water bottle. Not too big but not something I've never taken before.

I look in horror. "I can't take that! "

"Shut the fuck up you can and you will! " Zara says before slapping me once more.

With a smirk the professor hands the bottle to Zara and sinks down beside me. She then pours lube onto my pussy and two of her fingers. Taking no time to shove the two in causing me to groan. The professor then stares at me intensely as she begins working me loose on her fingers. Try to get me ready as fast as she can.

After a good ten minutes and three more fingers she slips out and reaches for the bottle to my displeasure. She then presses it into me ever so slightly as I cry out due to the sensation of it stretching me more and more. Similar as she begins filling me more and more she too begins to moan.

Whispering "Take it cunt. "

When I finally hit the middle of the bottle she stops pressing and begins to twist it and move it around. Dragging thing against my insides. Trying to give herself enough wiggle room. When she has it she begins thrusting it in and out causing me to moan out.

"Good slut. Like being fucked so bad you don't care what's fucking you? " the professor says as she speeds up her thrusting and begins to rub my clit.

Causing me to clench on the stupid fucking bottle.

"Awww you love it so much! Look at that pathetic cunty sucking it in!" She says while going crazy on my clit.

At this point I'm screaming from the pleasure, the sensation, the humiliation, and the pain. Tears stream from my my eyes as I buck up into her hand consequently pushing the bottle deeper inside of me.

"Are you going to do it are you going to cum on that fucking bottle! "

"No, no, please no. "

"Don't fucking talk back! Do it slut make a mess all over this cup! " she says pounding into me faster and faster while rubbing my clit like crazy.

"Do it! You better cum in the next 4... 3... 2.." And I'm screaming clenching so hard im pretty sure I dented the bottle.

"That's it, good fucking slut!" She says before smacking my already sensitive clit as I fall over the edge. By the time I'm fully done I'm shaking from the after affect.

"Wow that was... Can I take a picture? " the professor says before looking at Zara who begins to think "I'll pay extra, 5 dollars and no face. "

Before Zara says anything thing she shakes her head causing the professor to yell "10 dollars extra!" Causing Zara to laugh and nod. Quickly the professor pulls out her phone then zooms in on my bottle filled pussy. Taking three pictures one of it in, one of her pulling it out, and one of my empty cunt.

The woman the grabs the marker and draws an arrow to my clit adding hit me with a heart to the end of the arrow.

The professor then takes the bottle and stand up and cash apps Zara the money. She almost walks off until Zara stops her.

"Uh uh ten dollars for every picture. Only seems fair right teach. " Zara says with a smile

Angry the teacher takes her phone out and quickly sends her the rest of the money. Before stomping off.

Zara smiles before waiting again. For the next 4 hours we get customer after customer. From girl who just wanted to mark on me to others who hit my clit to those who road my face with earnest. To a handfull of people who fucked me with their hands and toys. By the end of the 4 hours my tongue and clit ached. I was covered in words. "Fuck me" "whore" "Screamer" "Great ride" "Abuse me" "I ♡ cum" "use me" "choke me" "Fuck my face" "useless".

As Zara checks her bank account and adds up the crippled up bills I assume we're done. Until another girl strolls up.

"Sorry we're closed. "Zara says while counting the money.

" I'll pay double! " She says while avoiding eye contact.

"Okay then, now we're talking. What do you want her mouth, to hit her, oh her hands haven't been used? "

"I'd like to fuck her. Well breed her ." she says arm crossed over the bulge in her pants.

"Oh, okay go ahead."

The girl then begins to pull down her pants and take out her cock. Knowing I'm on the pill makes me freak out less but I know this is going to ache.

"Do I need to prep her? "

"Nah the bottle pretty much did that for everyone. " Zara shrugs as she hands her the lube.

The girls looks puzzled but squirts the lube on me before lathering her cock. She lines up and let's out a huff before hesitating. She then slowly pushes in.

"Fuck it feels so good! So warm! " she says while twitching.

She then pauses for a moment soaking it in. When she finally moves her rhythm kinda sucks. There's no pattern as she ruts into me with closed eyes. She moans and curses under her breath. It takes a minute or 5 until she finally develops a rhythm unfortunately her "rhythm" is just pounding into me like some kind of pocket pussy. I whine in oversimulation at each kiss of our hips. While she grunts in my ear.

"Finally. Finally. Finally. Fuck " she say into my ear

Surprisingly she then kisses me. Very poorly but the passion is there. She then begins to spasm.

"I'm sorry I can't last. I can't last any longer. Thank you slut! " she says while ramming home fucking her hot cum deeper and deeper into me.

Even after she finished she keeps humping and kiss until we're both overstimulated.

"Dude your done! " Zara says while grabbing her shoulder .

"Ugh I'm sorry that was my first time. " she squeaks while pulling out of me. Stopping to watch her cum drip out and onto the ground.

"Thirty now and an extra 5 for kiss that wasn't in the deal. " Zara scowls while pulling the girl up.

"Yes of course! " she says while pulling up her pants. She then hands Zara 40 dollars and turns around.

Before she walks away I hear her whisper to herself "I lost my virginity to a prostitute. "

I stare at her as she walks away.

"I just made 160 dollars! " Zara say while showing me the cash. Exhausted I hardly even glance up at her. "Don't look at me like that. It was your fault in the first place! But I guess I forgive you. Just next time no kissing! Now put your clothes on your late for class. "

[coffeebooksrain18]

Something I find wild is that the people who love the IC are the same people who hate on Nesta. Now i already know this but we need to go through each ones personality real quick.

Rhys: a male with supposedly enough power to be High King of Pyrithan doesn't do anything for his people. Not even for the ones he supposedly loves because even in that city there are slums that he let his mates sister live in (also I can't remember how to spell it Val I think but whatever). A warrior people he keeps in the worst conditions on his mountain plains because they are just too stubborn even though we don't have a story or see him actually suggesting this to any of the leaders of any camp. And Hewn City, need I say more? They are treated horribly by him and then he wonders why they have a bad attitude when most haven't even breathed fresh air?

Mor: now I kinda like Mor but if I'm honest she doesn't have much depth besides a female who was traumatized and now dresses sexy. I don't care she's a lesbian I'm bi it doesn't matter to me much. If a character is boring i will state that fact no matter the sexuality. And Mor? Well is fucking boring. But also her as a character. She rules Hewn City in Rhys steed on many occasions, she hates how they treat fae females down there, but has she done anything for them? Because I can't think of one occasion she actually helped one instead of berating them and saying they should be grateful. She treats them the way she was treated but were supposed to feel sorry for Mor? That makes no sense.

Cassian: he is pretty much the angry warrior guy of the group. He's the wild dog on a leash just waiting for his master to let him free (Rhys). He treats his mate like shit on his boot and then wonders why she avoids him like the fucking plague. He verbally and at times physically abuses his own mate but were just supposed to brush that off as him having anger issues? He also had destroyed Summer court and has yet to apologize because he was just "drunk and being stupid". Yeah no you destroyed families homes the least you can fucking do is apologize but instead you just bailed.

Azriel: now I still like him though he is on thin ice. If he hurts my baby Gwyn I will be going into the book and bitch slapping him to next week. But let's talk about his character. The silent and brooding to complement Cassians dumb idiot persona. He is the resident torturer, yes you heard that right the resident torturer. And it is even implied he enjoys the job. He is a traumatized person who out of all the IC actually tries to connect and help others because of what he went through. He is often frowned on because he is a Shadowsinger and an assassin. The Illyrains look down on him because he is a bastard. Like I said I still like him but he still has done horrible things were just supposed to forget about.

And finally

Amren: she was powerful and scary until the end of Wings and Ruin. Now she's just a frail female fae with nothing to offer other than knowledge she hardly remembers because she's "Just that old". She had nothing nothing offer anymore other than being the resident rude bitch of the group. She is worse than Nesta and I love Nesta and her bitchyness. She wants everyone to be afraid of her but she doesn't know how to fight and if she does it's been so long we would have to start the training process all over again. She still treats Feyra like a hindrance even though Feyra is supposedly "High Lady". She is honestly just a grumpy old bitch who wants to be a badass but not put in any work. None of the IC have anything to worry about from her anymore other than maybe she knows of something powerful but from her track record she probably forgot where it is.

My point is so many hate on Nesta because she is a Bitch who doesn't care about anyone but forget the IC are literally filled with that type of character. So it honestly just shows they can't look past hot abs in my opinion.

[the-morningstar-family]

Does Willa have a will?

Alastor, Lucifer and Doctor Chaim sit in a room, after he looked over Willa once again. The air is tense, because they know what is coming.

Dr. Chaim: “As you can imagine; I have quite sad news”

The king takes Alastor's hand, who squeezes it.

Lucifer: “We're ready.”

Dr. Chaim: “I am sorry to say that Willa's condition is deteriorating more every day. And while I cannot say with a hundred percent certainty… I do not think that she will live beyond the end of the week.”

Alastor's ears droop, face relaxing with an acceptance of woe, looking sorely disappointed by the universe. While Lucifer looks at the Doctor with pleading wet puppy dog eyes, as if he decided it and isn't just notifying them.

Dr. Chaim: “When Willa had still been able to talk, she asked me to hold on to this, until she is close to death.”

He slides a small paper stack over.

It is a will. Between the official papers that have been filled out there is also text, handwritten by her. The king's small hand hold them with care, despite the shakiness. Alastor has long since buried his head in the blind head, peeking over just enough to read the contents as well.

The Will:

“Dear Friends and Family,

It is a strange feeling to be writing about one's own death. Especially when being aware of how soon that Future will arrive. I am keenly aware of the many Birthdays I will not attend, of the Sinmas celebrations that I won't be part of, how many New Years Eve's will come by without me.

I have been rather fortunate in life, though. I had a wonderful mother, who had been nurturing and loving despite never receiving the same in her childhood. I am lucky enough to have a wonderful son. Bright and curious despite the challenges he has faced since the day he was born. And I am most grateful for the bonds I have been able to make with the residents of the Hazbin Hotel.

Not only have you extended incredible kindness to my son but to me as well. And the second you knew of my condition, you took care of us both. Please allow me to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am afraid there are no words that will ever be enough to articulate these feelings. The ones of love and care despite the difficulties increasing every single day. For every time I fell, and you to pick me up, for every time you wiped my drool, when my body would not let me, I want to express my deepest gratitude. I wish, for all of our sakes, that I could be staying longer. But it won't be possible. And for that my heart aches, and I am so fortunate, to have people who's heart have ached with me, and will continue to do so.

I feel a little selfish asking for more. However, there are a few things I would like to address, before I am unable to.

Again, I am fortunate, that you already treat Felix like your own. I am so very glad to know, that my dearest boy will be safe and sound. What I want to ask you is, to not stop. To treat all of your children to the best of your ability. There is no shame in imperfections, but please, treat them with the care they deserve.

For my funeral I don't have many requests. A small goodbye for all of us is more than enough. I would like to ask you to make sure that everyone can have their goodbyes how they need to have them. Anything beyond that is of little importance.

Thank you, for all you have done. I could not have wished for better company.

And to Felix:

My dear lovely boy. When I first held you, I was completely overwhelmed and so incredibly happy. That is why I named you Felix, because I felt incredibly lucky to have you.

And I am so sorry to leave you. I love you with all my heart. I already miss you, yet you are still in my arms every day.

I wish I could see you grow up. See the person you will become in ten, twenty, thirty years. But I will not even make to next year.

But know, that I love you. And that you are loved, when I am gone. Remember, that to me, you will always be my most wonderful child.

I love you.

Goodbye.”

[pyreo]

☝️☝️☝️

I feel like you can't really even compare Natlan to the prev two regions because they've completely changed tactic. For me Sumeru and Fontaine's strengths outweighed their weaknesses bc they were fundamentally stories about people doing things wrong. The wrongness of Nahida's imprisonment, the dismissal of curiosity in favour of ChatGPT, Scaramouche's entire thing. Furina being asked to give herself up as a person for her people. The entire justice and incarceration system being downright ridiculous. Those things grabbed you because they were human problems and humans needing change.

Natlan flipped that into 'oh no, war' and just had the abyss become the entire force of antagonism in the chapter. None of the characters had any downsides. They're all nice and available and on your side, with no personal distance like how Nahida was kept away from you, or Cyno and Alhaitham kept slapfighting or Furina was too famous to approach or Wriothesley had his own domain that he could threaten to keep you trapped in.

I cannot understand why people who demonstrated decent mastery of narrative coherence just up and abandoned it, but my pessimistic side thinks they internally changed tactic from a story driven game to just a 'good job hero' simulator where women with their tits out tell you you were a good boy (and nobody plays as lumine obviously). Mavuika is like... okay? But she has nothing going really other than whooaaa determination whooa

I mean when her character's vindication is to cheat her prophecied death and be allowed to live 'for herself' after essentially cutting her 'real' life short so she could see through her plan... shouldn't we have some idea what she wants to do with her life now its her own? Shouldn't she have some 'if only I could have lived long enough to ___' to drive it home? She doesn't die and then just kinda looks around like 'huh. um. okay'. Genshin also always has huge problems trying to stretch out its second act to fill time and this was one of the worst. The characters can't have issues or problems, so we just fuck around with chasca and citlali for a million years until the devs nod and go 'yeah that's long enough, they should all want to gamble for them now'.

The only characters who had something approaching a growth problem were kachina and ororon, kachina's being a simple 'I'm not good enough' (joins war and immediately dies) and ororon's... actually he's fine with himself, but everyone else is awkward about him because they tried to make him a human sacrifice as a baby and it didn't take but he's fine with it or something?? But it's not expanded on?

Anyway I loved how you put this

I wish there was more fanfare or resistance over her not being the one to sacrifice herself in the end omg. She just gets talked down a bit by Citlali & Traveler & then just kinda stands there like “oh…ok :(“ when Capitano shows up with a power point presentation about why this should be His self sacrifice moment now

like... YEAH. I think the strongest part of the AQ could have been the foils of Mavuika and Capitano that at least the shippers have latched onto. It was all right there. Opposing elements, evenly matched in strength, ending up aligning on a common goal, but the writing seemed to do everything possible to avoid letting them have any true contention or really to show anything in lieu of just telling us and moving on.

The idea of Mavuika being prepared to die a second time because it's demanded by the rules of the universe only to be outplayed by her counterpart who's been cursed to never die is really good, I just wish that had commanded the narrative and not hey. look at chasca's sister. look at her. she's hiding in a bush. are you attached yet? hey go look at citlali's house. she gets drunk sometimes don't you wanna fuck her? here's her house key. here's mualani. she's peppy. that's a personality right? here's iansan. she's uhhhh (looks at post it note that says 'To Do')

I used to dislike alhaitham a little for always getting to be right, but now I feel like I'd do anything to have him sit down and ignore us and rebuff any attempt at conversation, that was funny. I'm not into the 'yayyy everyone worships you wheee' type of Traveler.

Guys as someone who really enjoys the Archons on a thematic level the way they executed Mavuika as a character kills me omg

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Just once, I would like to be able to have a conversation about my feelings with someone where they don't, at some point, start trying to explain to me why something happened such that they are either implying or outright stating I should stop having noticeable feelings at them about a thing and/or telling me that I'm wrong about how I feel and actually if I just understood this thing I would see that I'm being unreasonable to say I feel the way I do.

Just once, for someone's response to be "it sounds like you're feeling [insert thing, e.g hurt, sad, scared, tired, angry, etc], I'm sad that you are dealing with that." Not to take responsibility for my feelings! But for them to acknowledge that they're happening and might matter to me before they move on to whatever the fuck next thing they have to say is

[badadboombadabing26]

Me and Rigsby are like this 🤞when it comes to Grace

[the-lark-ascending69]

> be a robin buckley fan

> be lesbian

> project on robin

> look up "internalized homophobia robin buckley" on tumblr because it's cathartic

> 3/4 of the posts are about st3ddie or just about steve

[faaun]

oh my god ! haha . anyway a bit buzzed perhaps. anyway here's what happened on the date

[beingatoaster]

DAWN OF THE FINAL DAY

(though better yet, the car is packed and I am leaving within the hour :D I originally thought I'd stay through lunch and do the bulk of my driving tomorrow, but Grandma thought "leaving Sunday" meant "Sunday morning" and frankly this week has been stressful enough that I didn't dispute her)

[dbphantom]

you know if you guys voted for stretch armstrong i probably would have shut up a lot sooner tonight

[fcdcdmcmories]

"... YEAH. I KNOW. DOESN'T MEAN THAT OTHER PEOPLE DO, THOUGH." shaking his head. maybe, she had learned it, but.. did it mean that other people were going to stop coming after her? probably not and.. god, he wished that he could stop shaking, because it would make this a LOT EASIER. he didn't feel like himself. his hands were shaking, he felt fucking destroyed and god-- fuck. he didn't want to bother her with any of this. he didn't want to stand in the way and he didn't want to lose himself and above all, to lose.. this. god, her. them. "NO. YOU KNOW, WHEN I WAS DOWN THERE.. ALL I DREAMED ABOUT WAS YOU. that we got to have a real wedding. that i made the cake. it was.. SOMETHING." maybe it wasn't fair of him to say so, but.. right now, he had needed something to hold on to and he had a feeling that so did she. wasn't that it? "i know, i know, i.. i'm sorry. it's just that down there, they.. you have no idea of the things they said. DID. what they said that they were going to do to you." shaking his head, as he attempted to take some very deep breaths. he wasn't there anymore. he was here, with her. they were together. it was going to be okay. WASN'T IT? ".. i don't know what i believe. okay? HE HAD VOICE RECORDINGS OF YOU THAT HE WAS MORE THAN HAPPY TO PLAY FOR ME. AT A SO CALLED DATE. SAYING YOU WANTED TO GO AWAY WITH HIM. how am i supposed to feel? yes, maybe it was all a lie and god, i hope that it was, but.. but.. you don't know, okay? you. don't. know. WHAT HE DID TO ME. HOW HE GOT IN MY HEAD. IT'S LIKE I CAN STILL HEAR HIM HERE." he shook his head, attempting to brush some of the tears away. she didn't know what he had been through and what he had heard but this wasn't her fault, he knew, but.. scoffing. "because he gave a shit about that during our last talk, where he pretty much made sure i knew i was never going to be good enough for you. I DON'T NEED TO SAY WHO THAT REMINDS ME OF, DO I? he doesn't want you anywhere near me, let alone married to me. suppose he must have been real happy." pederson. how many times had he heard that coming from him, too? enough of it already. oh, now he wanted to throw his hands up. "OH, GIVE ME A BREAK. HE TOOK A LITTLE BEATING FOR HURTING SOMEONE. SO WHAT? POOR LITTLE WILL GRAHAM. while everyone was off cuddling him because of a little paper cut, you... you have no idea of what i saw down there. of what i fucking went through, because if it wasn't me? IT'D BE YOU. IT'D BE THE KID. and unlike him, who you seem to be so keen to defend? i don't sit around and let the people i love get hurt. i protect them." because if it hadn't been him, it would have been gwen. or her. or laney or evie or gabi and.. no. no. "and? don't act like we've not all lost people we love at one point. he's not fucking special. what was i to do? wait around and clap him in the back for the fact that thanks to him, i nearly had to go and tell my daughter her mother was gone? SHOULD I?" because no. no. he knew what that was like. he'd never put evie through it. shaking his head. "if he was in trouble, it's because he deserved it. WHAT KIND OF FREAK DOES WHAT HE DID TO LANEY AND JUST.. LEAVES? MAYBE IT'S TIME YOU ADMIT THAT HE'S NOT THE PERFECT FATHER FIGURE YOU'VE WANTED YOUR WHOLE LIFE. he's not even a good man. there's a reason your father loved him. maybe because he's as fucked up as finn. or worse. neither of them want you with me. surprised they haven't set you up with cooper or randolph yet. and it's fine, cee. honestly, you.. i get it. i knew. i knew what was probably happening up here. THAT YOU HAD PROBABLY MOVED ON. WITH JOE OR ANYONE ELSE, I.." he only laughed. bitterly but he did. "right. rest. when there's a chance i could wake up tomorrow and hear you were taken by them. by joe and his.. employer. NO." stubborn, maybe, but.. but.. but. WHAT ELSE COULD HE DO? / @xtinyslip

"multiple times is an exaggeration. i learn from my mistakes." she wasn't even going to get into what some of those were because she knew their time was limited. it was precious and she wanted to use it wisely. "parker, i'm already stuck with you for good… as you are me. that's how we like it. now you bring it up…" she did smile, even if she didn't feel like smiling. cecilia wasn't doing that for herself, she was doing that for him. "i do miss you cooking my favorite dishes. we never got a do over on that cake either, did we?" smiling again, and again not for herself. her lips parted, ready to argue, ready to hold his hands even tighter but she didn't. she lowered her hands, keeping the same closeness between them ; not wanting him to pull away altogether. "i won't, not if you don't want me too. you know that i'm right here." it was understandable and yet the realisation of how traumatized he was made her so damn fucking angry. honestly, how dare these people? it may not have worked in her favor that she wasn't always quick to defend herself. it wasn't that she was struggling to do so. after all, joe was full of literal shit. it was just… well, parker may not realise how much information he was providing her but she was learning as much as she could. "… now we know who apparently bugged the apartment. he has never been invited in, that doesn't mean he didn't find another way in but it wasn't with permission. you're not seriously believing any of this?" was he? because it was beginning to sound like an accusation. "… involved in hurting you? don't be outrageous. hurting you is the same as hurting me, and he knows that." honestly, the pain all merged, it all felt the same. "besides, he's been bed ridden. i don't have to defend him to you, you know he didn't do this!" no, will hadn't been behind this, she was that positive on it. on him. "she might be the mother of your kid, but she's the reason will lost his younger daughter." she should have let it go, she should have not acknowledged but it was always going to be a sore subject for cecilia. the nerves that elaine had exposed were still RAW for her as were the scars she had because of it. THIS WAS ON HER NOW? THIS WAS HER FAULT? LIKE SHE DIDN'T FEEL LIKE SHIT ENOUGH. "he required medical assistance, i knew he was in trouble. i had his location. if there was a choice? i would have been with you, wherever you were being held, giving whoever is doing this to you the worst time of their lives! me and paul have been putting every waking moment into finding you! to finding a solution for all this!" how dare he say it was otherwise? that she had made her choice? it was bullshit and she needed to be clear that it was. she did not want him thinking that of her. she actually couldn't believe he did. "you're not in any condition to be telling me what matters. you just get as much rest as donna will allow you to have, eat, build up your strength. hm? you've made it clear to me… this is urgent. YOU CAN'T WAIT." @fcdcdmcmories

[sonofshu]

‎ ‎

[sysig]

Hm ok what's your favorite or a really cool worlbuilding thing you've done? For any fandom or original or even an unimplemented idea

Hmm well at least in the past decade, my big worldbuilding projects have mostly come down to three-ish stories: Other Side of the Gun, Adventures of Gæilo and Ethon, and Just Desserts

OSG was an Invader ZiM fancomic concept I started around 2013 to justify every single Irken headcanon I ever came up with lol - I never finished it, or even really started it, but I put a lot of time and energy into its roughs back in the day :)

^A stick figure recap of Ch. 1, inspired by - what else - the Vargas stick figure recaps lol

One that you can see over here is all the work I did for my DnD campaign, AGE! (Though its sideblog hasn't been updated in a while haha - the AGE tag over here works just as well) I basically homebrewed a pantheon and had an absolute blast designing all the gods and their forms before they became gods and even things like architectural differences in their churches and the BBEG and his motivations and just ah <3 Such a fun project :D

It also laid the groundwork for things like Pokemon Homestyle, specifically all my papercrafts! You can really see how I leveled up haha

And my latest has been Just Desserts! Even with less time under its belt, it's still pretty expansive, as evidenced by my icon and theme and the backlog lol, and it's the one I have the most AUs of! (Though OSG does come close actually haha) There are still some thorny details I'm trying to iron out, especially to do with the magic system, but all the characters and creatures and the fact that I made my own fighting minigame, ah, pleased! I've never been so happy with a sona before Charm! ♥ From the very beginning it's been so fun to work on and I still want to improve!