#Like her wanting more control was a natural response after having absolutely no control in a very upsetting situation and I just!! No!!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

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[denial-permanente]

Hello Mrs Edge. I saw a post from a woman who had some guilt because she was weaning her husband off penetration and I wanted to share my own experience with this for her benefit.

For various reasons my partner had been unable to satisfy me for some time. When it started happening we went round to some of the adult shops and discovered sleeves and extensions, and from there we found chastity cages, and the harnesses and strapons available (I had no idea then it was called foxing and absolutely LOVE the expression!). I admit that I may have been more enamoured of the idea of "no more penetration" than he was 😂 but he wanted to please me, and I found the idea to be erotically intriguing.

I realized that in order to make "no penetration" work I had to condition him to accept it; that is, to retrain his masculine instincts to make him a better partner. It took some time but I found that it worked best to keep "foxing" nights penetration free (for him, of course!). He learned to fox me to my satisfaction (which you have no doubt learned can be absolutely fantastic!), after which he cleaned up and came back to bed to cuddle me off to sleep. Unlocking him was off the table on those nights because I wanted him to learn that foxing nights were for MY pleasure.

While I am excited to make him "penetration free," I am not ready to make him orgasm free, so about once a month I pick an evening to remove his cage so he can have an orgasm and some "intimate touch." Usually I have him rub against my bum with a little cream. As your husband noted in his response, this allows him an orgasm while reminding him that he is not allowed penetration. Sometimes if I feel especially generous, I have him lie back while I use my hands to bring him off. And I admit that I have come to relish telling him that my hand is the best that he can hope for, since he will always be denied my pussy 😈.

I discovered that it was best to have him clean up and replace the cage as soon as his orgasm was finished. For some reason making him lock up when he did not really want to keeps his attention level higher and returns his focus to me more quickly, which is my goal.

We have been doing this since Covid, and even though I now have him well trained, I do know that my "no penetration" regimen has not been easy for him. He wants to please me, but he is still a man so it is hard for him to hold back those urges. Naturally I felt a bit guilty about denying him at first, but as my confidence grew, I discovered that my new sense of power and confidence helped me to lead our relationship to new levels; indeed, we are both much happier than we were in the old days. Like you, I do not think of myself as a dominatrix, but there is no question between us that I have the power and control over my partner. If only our friends knew our secret!

Finally, I want to thank you (and your husband) for all that you do. Until recently, I had no idea that there were other people in a penetration free lifestyle. Like you, we are a totally normal appearing middle aged couple, more South London than Soho, if you know what I mean. A decade ago, had anyone told me that this could work I would have thought them mad. It has been so wonderful to see that there are other "normal" 😂 couples who live this way out of choice, not necessity. 💋🎶 Mistress Melodie

Hello Mistress Melodie! First, thank you for sharing your experience for Mistress Karin and other women who are learning about relationships like ours. And I agree that if someone had told me about this 20 or 30 years ago, I would have told them they were crazy!

While you did not say why you got into this, I like that you took charge and investigated things with your partner. Many of the messages that we get are from couples where the husband introduced it as a kinky thing and now their wife has no idea what to do. It sounds like you both have good communication and are able to talk to each other about what works for you both. Well, more for you, I guess. 😂

You call your relationship "no penetration," but obviously you mean that only for your partner. It's funny but I do not see my own relationship that way... rather, I think of the Ranger Vixskin as my husband's "real" cock now, like a replacement for the old one. And since I can make him come (in his cage, obviously), I really do not think about him lacking in anything. However... I have learned that men think of these things differently 😉. Maybe it's a different thing because you do unlock him for sexual things. My husband has said that sometimes that makes men even more aware of what they are not having.

I think that you bring up a good point about how the improvements in your relationship making it easier to deal with the pangs of guilt. My husband used to tell me that he was doing okay locked up, but it wasn't until I could really see the... improvements in his demeanor and feel how he was definitely happier around me that I could trust myself enough to keep him locked longer (and eventually permanently) and to just let any pangs of guilt float away. It's hard to explain, but I could just sense that he was more happy and content, even if he was having a bad time at work or if things were going on in our lives. Feelings like that give you the confidence to keep going, and having confidence in yourself and in your relationship means that you no longer feel like you "should" unlock him, or let him come, or allow him penetration, or do anything else that you might feel guilty about.

Thanks you again for commenting. If you have a Tumblr account, please message me to say hi and chat.

[penelopepine]

I’m absolutely in love with your writing 💕

I’ve always had this scenario of Phillip and Reader (who are both first time parents) going out with their baby, and Reader having to breastfeed the baby in public and a man tries to harass her about it (telling her she shouldn’t be doing this in public and whatnot) and Phillip stands up for her

Maybe the man tries to harass her while Phillip was at the counter getting them something to eat and he hears what’s going on or something?

(Moms who are alone in public get bothered like this irl by men so often and it’d be so sweet to see Phillip standing up for his wife 🥺❤️)

Thank You!!! I hope that you like this as well!

It's weird that people get so bothered by breastfeeding. Like just let the mom feed her baby in peace.

Mind Your Own Business

Phillip Graves x Fem Reader

With the baby turning six weeks old just a few days ago you and Phillip both felt comfortable taking the baby out to more public spaces. It was a beautiful day out, and that of course led to you both walking around the farmer’s market with the little one in tow. 

Philip had both hands on the stroller while you had one hand wrapped around the crook of his elbow as you both walked around. It wasn’t until half an hour had passed did he insist on sitting down in one of the bakeries for a bite to eat. “Come on, let me treat my sweetheart to something sweet.” 

“I think it’s you who wants something sweet.” You give him a playful nudge as you walk towards the shop. 

“Who says it can’t be both?” Phillip counted your accurate remark. “I’m a man capable of many things after all.” 

Once in the shop looking at all the available options is when the little one decides to make a fuss. Glancing at the time you know she’s probably just hungry since this is about the time you would normally feed her when at home. 

“Oh, are you hungry baby?” You gesture for Phillip to let you take control of the stroller, “I’m going to take her outside and feed her. I saw a shaded bench right outside.” 

It’s obvious he doesn’t want to leave you both alone, but understands that that’s just his protective nature talking. That little voice has been speaking a lot more ever since the baby was born. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes; I’ll bring you one of those chocolate croissants I saw you eyeing too.” 

"I love you so much." You give him a small kiss, and swiftly make your way outside to the bench just as the baby starts to cry.

It only takes you a few moments to get comfortable, grab the now crying baby out of her stroller, and adjust her so that she can easily breastfeed from you. 

You take this time to admire the tiny wiggling bundle of joy in your arms. She truly is the perfect mix between you and Phillip - it almost feels like she’s not real sometimes with just how perfect she is. 

The baby's crying and wiggling finally starts to settle down as she latches on. Just as things seem to settle down you feel a sudden presence next to you. Thinking it was Phillip you look up with a smile on your face which quickly shifts into a frown as you take in the strange man now standing in front of you.

It was the look of anger and disgust on his face that had you gripping your daughter tight to you; trying to decide if you needed to get up, and walk away. Before you can make a move though the man is already practically spitting venom at you. “Do you really think that’s appropriate to be doing in public? Why don’t you go do that in the bathroom like you're supposed to do?” 

“I’m breastfeeding - I’m just feeding my baby.” Is your immediate response to his unpleasant questions. You knew some people didn’t like it when women breastfeed in public, but you didn’t think anyone would actually try and fight you about it. All you're doing is feeding a baby after all. 

“No, what you are doing is purposely exposing yourself to others around you. I mean my god woman could you not have the decency to atleast have a cover on?” 

“A cover? It’s 80 degrees out right now, and you want me to practically put a blanket over her?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Not to mention that you didn’t like using a cover; all it felt like was another thing you had to pack around and worry about. 

Arguing only seemed to be making the man more upset with you. As if you should be thankful that he was gifting you with his “amazing” advice on how and where you should be breastfeeding your baby. 

Red faced with a pointed finger raised, the man takes a large step closer to you. It genuinely seemed like he would have come even closer if he wasn’t so suddenly jerked away from you. 

“Now what do you think you're doing here bothering my wife and child?” There Phillip stood now in between the man and you. Finally, it felt like you could breathe again knowing that your husband was here to help you. 

Phillip was furious - that much was obvious even from where you sat with his back to you. His shoulders were tense, and his clenched fists looked like they were one wrong move from throwing a punch. 

“That’s your wife?” The man waves in your direction, “How about you tell your wife to cover up while in public.” 

The silence that follows after those words are deafening.

“Phillip,” You softly call out to your husband. As much as you would love to let him do whatever he sees fit you’d rather not have to be escorted off by police. 

You watch as Phillip slowly releases a sigh before he continues with his words to the man, “I'm not going to waste any more breath explaining just how stupid you sound right now. What I am going to say though is that if you don't walk away right now I'm going to beat the shit out of you, and I promise you that is a fight you don't want - not with me." 

The man clearly wasn't prepared for the outright threat of violence against him, and it showed on his now shocked face. People like him are all talk; just wanting to pick on someone seemingly weaker than him, and the second someone stronger stands up to him he's playing the victim. 

"Whatever," the man growls out before hastily turning on his heels and walking away further into the market. 

Phillip doesn't move from his position until the man has completely disappeared from view. When he does eventually turn around he puts one hand on your check and the other one cradles the baby's head before he asks you, "are you both alright?" 

"We're- we're alright. He didn't do anything besides give me a lecture." You're so thankful for that too, and luckily your daughter didn't seem to notice the tense situation that just occurred. "How did you know he was even here?" 

"You really didn't think I wouldn't be watching you while I was waiting inside did you?" Phillip looked much calmer now that it was just the three of you again. "Which reminds me I still need to pick our order up. Now let me help you pack up; there's no way I'm leaving you alone to get harassed again." 

Normally you would have insisted that you were alright to stay where you were, but right now all you wanted was to stay by his side. This encounter has really rattled you more than you thought. 

It only takes Phillip a few seconds to get everything back in the baby bag. The baby is still feeding from you as you both walk back to the bakery. In the silence you can’t help, but ask a question that has been bothering you. “Do you think I should … hide away when I need to breastfeed in public?" 

"Sweetheart, don't let one dumb fucker stop you from feeding our baby when she's hungry. You have the right to breastfeed anywhere you damn want to."

"You're right, you're right," He was right, this one experience shouldn't stop you from going out and enjoying things with your baby.

Phillip reached out and gave you a quick peck as he opened the bakery door, "besides I'll always be there to defend my girls." 

[agustdiv1ne]

𖤐⋆°·.3:13 a.m. (m) — choi beomgyu

genre: smսt (mdni! ageless blogs dni!!), vampire boyfriend!beomgyu, fem!human!reader, mc gets her period, oral (f receiving), bloodplay (ig), i would say i'm sorry but i'm not <3

wc: 3.2k

beomgyu awakes to the smell of blood flooding his nostrils.

bleary eyes snap open as he shakes himself from his suspended state of consciousness, only for him to squint at the glaring crimson numbers of the alarm clock sitting upon the nightstand. it's terribly early. early enough that the stars still glitter against the sable background of the sky outside, early enough that this particular bedroom of his manor remains bathed in darkness. the dimness of the room, however, proves to be no issue for beomgyu's enhanced sight; he watches as your chest rises and falls in steady succession, your sleeping form blissfully unaware of his current predicament. 

oh god, it's you. the blood is yours. the sweet, saliva-inducing perfume of the crimson ichor overwhelms your typically clean, subtle scent; and yet according to his keen senses, the aroma is richer this time, somehow. more potent — he has not smelt anything as addicting in decades. it makes it all the easier for him to want to give into the primal urge to absolutely devour you, to feed and feed and fucking feed from your pretty little neck until he’s sated and you’re halfway brainless. with a jerky shake of his head, he pushes those instincts swirling in his chest into a dark corner of his mind. he’d never feed from you without your permission. he’s not like that; no, he’s not like his former coven that would hunt defenseless humans like you for sport, taking turns drinking from the victim’s body until their veins ran dry. no, he is far from being like them. he loves you, and he’d never do anything that could hurt you.

another wave of sweet iron wafts into his nose, and he exhales sharply, sitting up against the headboard. shit, he really should leave. he should run far away until he can no longer smell you, but he remains frozen in place. sitting there, he takes in how you begin to curl in on yourself, your brows furrowing as if you're in pain. the sight snaps him out of his bloodlust-induced daze, blinking hard when you groan and turn away from him on the bed, your arms wrapped around your midsection — cramps. you’re cramping.

blood, cramping…oh, beomgyu realizes, your period must have started.

the two of you are typically more careful than this, tracking your cycle and ensuring that he is far, far away when it inevitably does hit you. perhaps you’ve both become too complacent in your safety measures after being together so long. it’s easy to forget that he could pose a threat to you when he’s never given you a reason to fear him. he is considered a monster by many, yes, but not by you — and that’s all that really matters to him. besides, beomgyu likes to think he could control himself no matter what, especially when it comes to you and your safety; but when he looks down to his hands, he finds that the fabric of the comforter has been torn open due to his unrelenting grip. his eyes squeeze shut. he needs to leave. he needs to leave right now. you’re too tempting, too testing for his natural instincts. run. run far away before he loses control.

rolling over, your head lands on his lap, arms curling around his left leg as you nuzzle your nose into the smooth skin of his thigh. it’s stronger now, that overwhelming scent. he feels like there’s a frog stuck in his throat, ice in his veins — he needs to get out of here. right fucking now. gently, he tries to peel your body from his, but your arms have become vines, curled tightly around his leg, the side of his knee pressed into the valley between your breasts. they curl tighter as he tries to slip his hands beneath them, but he refuses to use the full extent of his strength on you. 

“baby,” he murmurs, nudging your shoulder only to receive no response. he grits his teeth together, he gulps, he tries again. “baby, wake up. you need to let go.”

you let out a sleepy mumble of his name, hooded eyes just beginning to focus as you look up at him. slowly, you take in the stiffness in his posture, his fleeting gaze illuminated by the moonlight. frowning, you set your chin on his thigh, eyes fluttering to a close once again. “what’s going on?”

“i need to leave, darling,” he grits out — he wants to bite you. he can’t bite you. he can’t. he fucking won’t. 

any fatigue remaining in your body drains from your system the moment he utters those words, worry flooding your veins in its wake. you sit up, arms curling around yourself as you lean closer to him, barely registering the pain in your abdomen. his eyes squeeze shut, dark brows furrowing as he shifts away. “why? did something happen? are you in danger—”

how are you so selfless? why, of all things, is the first thing that comes to your mind is his safety? you’re the one that may be in danger here, and he is the reason why you might be. 

you’re on his lap now, hands sliding over the planes of his face and down to cup his jaw. “gyu, c’mon. why do you need to leave?”

his eyes glint red before returning back to normal, razor-sharp fangs elongating before retracting again. his hands remain by his side while he shakes his head, gripping the sheets so cruelly that the threads are on the verge of tearing. now that your legs are parted, he can barely think straight. he needs to taste you, he has to—

“your period just started.”

his voice has lowered to a snarl, resounding from deep within his chest and straight into the pit that has opened up in your stomach. restraint pulls his words taut, hungry, feral — he needs something. he needs blood. you know he’s been depriving himself lately, though you’re unsure why, but now…now feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you with this divine timing. at the sound of another feral groan passing from his lips, you freeze. the fingers brushing over his jaw tense up, pressing into his skin ever so slightly, your voice whisper-quiet. breathy, shock coating each word, “oh. oh shit, um. i’m so sorry, i didn’t. i thought i had another week until—”

your attempt at climbing off of his lap proves to worsen the situation. in the blink of an eye, he’s grabbed ahold of your hips, halting your movements. crimson tinges the edges of his irises, fangs poking out from his upper lip as he pants. “don’t move. please don’t move. i don’t want—fuck, i don’t want to hurt you, baby, please.” 

you sit there for a moment, taking in his pained grimace. he’s fighting himself, he’s fighting every single primal instinct within him telling him to pounce, yet his terribly gentle fingers pressing into your hips indicates that he is still in full control. it’s okay, you think. you’d be okay if he fed.

fingers sliding down to his shoulders, you squeeze. “gyu, you need blood. i know you’re hungry, and it’s okay. i don’t mind.” 

in response, he shakes his head. “no, i can’t. i might hurt you, i can’t.”

your lips purse. what could you do? you’re stuck here, in the precarious position, with no clear way out. figure something out, come on. deep breath. in, out. in, out.

suddenly, an idea unearths itself within the walls of your mind, blooms like the moonflowers that so easily captures your attention when you go on walks with your lover. he doesn’t have to feed in the typical way. he could…oh, he could…

“you don’t have to feed from me, baby,” you coo, watching as his eyes flutter open and meet yours. vermillion now, not one speck of brown in sight. with a gentle, encouraging smile, a hand comes up to swipe through his hair. he shivers at the contact, but you can tell he’s still there. he’s still your gyu, hungry or not. in silence, you take the hand that still holds your left hip and guide it down to the apex of your thighs, allowing his fingers to brush over your panty-clad core. “just…taste me from here.”

he inhales sharply at the contact, at your words, wrenching his arm away. his other hand leaves you completely, palms dragging over his face as he attempts to compose himself. every fiber of his being is screaming at him to take the offer, just take the offer and eat you out — you want it, he really wants it… 

“i can’t,” he chokes out from behind his hands. with a sigh, you shift your face closer to his, grabbing his wrists to remove his hands. he lets you, he always lets you. his eyes remain closed this time, but you work with it; you know he can hear your heartbeat and the rustling of your shirt, smell your sweetness, feel the warmth radiating off of your face as you press a peck to his cheek.

“i trust you,” you whisper against the corner of his lips. he whispers out a weak refusal, and you shift against him, just a tiny motion of your hips that causes him to hiss. lower lip wobbling, his hands find your hips once more, eyes silently pleading with you to quit moving before he loses it. as you cup his cheeks, you tilt your head. “i know, baby. i know you don’t want to hurt me — and you won’t, i know you won’t. but don’t you want a taste? it smells good, doesn’t it? there’s nothing stopping you from taking what you need.”

his resolve crumbles before your very eyes as you continue to encourage him. he doesn’t even need to bite you, it’ll be okay, you’ll be safe. it’ll feel good for you too, rid you of your cramps in the process — doesn’t he want to help you feel better? you’ll both feel better if he does this. 

that’s enough for his composure to splinter, cracks forming and spreading like the roots of a tree until it shatters. there’s little holding him back as he flips you onto your back, him towering over you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. pausing, he stares down at you, voice barely louder than a whisper. “tell me to stop.” 

“i don’t want you to,” you murmur back. “take what you need.”

that’s all he needs to hear.

his fangs glint under the moonlight as he swoops in to capture your lips, aggressive, tongue slinking its way past your lips to curl with your own. the kiss itself doesn’t last long, not when one of his fangs slices into your lip, pulling a squeal from you. easily, he tongue locates the wound, laves over it as blood bubbles up to the surface of the flesh. he moans against your mouth at the taste. the sting subsides as the wound closes, and he pulls away. 

“need more,” beomgyu rasps. he’s wide-eyed, on the verge of absolute ruin, but you love seeing him like this. you crave to see him lose control. you are not the glass doll he’s made you out to be. you can take it, you can take him, and he needs to realize that sooner or later — preferably now. 

so you open your legs that have wrapped themselves around his hips, watch as his eyes roll back into his head, and say, “then have more.”

your panties are torn away from your center with ease, and while he can’t technically die, beomgyu thinks that this might just be the nail in his metaphorical coffin. with the barrier of clothes now eliminated, your scent is no longer obstructed, and you smell absolutely fucking divine. his head spins, nose filled with base notes of iron and sugar and a richness that he’s never experienced before. oh. oh fuck, he’s done for. 

sliding down your body until he’s settled between your legs, he holds you open and takes in how blood drips from your fluttering hole. you’re aroused, that much he can tell, and it excites that untamed side of him that he constantly tries to tuck away. it’s out in full force right now, and he doesn’t have it in him to hide it anymore, not when you smell like this, not when your blood is right there for the taking, especially not when you’re inviting him to taste with that sweet little voice of yours, breathy and needy and wanton, pleading for him to touch you. 

and fuck, he can’t take it anymore.

he doesn’t buy time with teasing your thighs like he usually does whenever he eats you out — no, he goes in straight for the kill, tongue licking a strip up your pussy, his groans reverberating against your clit as your saccharine blood hits his taste buds. he doesn’t pull away to comment, but you know just by the way his tongue slips into your hole that he likes what he finds. sometimes, you forget that your lover is no longer human — until these moments in which you are brutally reminded, his tongue extending far into your walls as he gives in to his basest desires. you cry out as the muscle curls up against the spongy spot inside you, thighs closing around his head, but not for long; fingers curl under your thighs, spreading you open for him as he removes his tongue from your entrance, beginning to lick your folds, your inner thighs, cleaning up the blood that has found its way there. his tongue does not slowly savor your skin. rather, he laps at you like a starved man, pulling you closer and closer to his face. if he were human, you’d be worried if he could breathe. 

this must be heaven, he thinks, as he returns back to your folds, tongue swirling around your entrance, his nose bumping against your weeping pearl while his tongue explores your walls as deep as his fingers could go. the sensation is far different from fingers, however — hotter, wetter, you can feel his desperation with every lick and drag, the roughness stimulating every single nerve ending it touches. his hands hold your hips up, holding you as close as possible as he shoves his tongue deeper, the tip of his nose now grinding against your clit. 

“g-gyu! fuck, oh my god, gyuuu!” you repeat over and over again, feeling your high approach. the knot in your stomach pulls tighter, and you reach down to rub your clit with sloppy circles. beomgyu growls at this. he knows you’re close, he knows so well, and he wants to get you there. he needs you to experience the nirvana he has reached right now — he needs you right here with him. 

his tongue leaves your hole again, but the aching emptiness is quickly remedied with three fingers filling you to the brim. back arching, you plead for mercy, for him to let you cum, for anything. please, god, you’ll take anything. he finds your bud, suckling it between his lips, moans muffled against your core and the knot pulls tighter and tighter and the fire rushing through your veins grows white hot—

the knot snaps.

“fu-uckkk!” you scream, voice cracking as your vision spots white, pleasure rushing through every crevice of your body, thighs quaking and back arching and hands finding hair and yanking. your body feels like it’s floating, the waves of pure bliss unending as he continues his ministrations, removing his fingers so he can revel in the taste of your sweet, sweet blood that gushes from your hole. unable to come down, you remain in the throes of pleasure even as he flips the both of you over, your thighs now cushioning his head as you sit atop his face.

you gasp at the position, his eyes now glowing a bright scarlet in the darkness as he looks up at you. you’ve never seen such a shade on him, and arousal sparks in your stomach once again. “gyu, what—”

“more, need more,” he grunts out, now tracing your folds with his tongue. your gyu is still there, just…hungrier, frantic for more. 

if he could taste this for the rest of his life, he would never tire.

“gyu, i don’t— ohhh, shit!” your voice pitches up as he begins to lap at your core, little in his mind other than taking and taking until he’s sated and full. your clit aches with overstimulation, your walls quivering with each pass of his eager tongue as he holds you against him. soon enough, your torso collapses into the mattress, sheets curled between your fingers while you whimper, sweat beading across your heated skin. you can’t. you can’t cum again, and you tell him this again and again, yet he doesn’t heed your cries, building you up and making you cum on his tongue again and again until you can’t even think. your words are incoherent, garbled and tearful against the sheets, begging for him to let up.

“baby, baby i can’t,” you sob as you reach what you think is your fifth orgasm. “gyu!”

finally — fucking finally — he lets up, helps you ride out your high before slipping out from between your thighs. helping you onto your back, he holds your face between his palms, a small trace of blood from his fingers staining your cheek. your blood covers the majority of his lower face, smeared across his chin and lips and even a little on the tip of his nose. if you had enough energy to, you would laugh at the sight. 

“gonna go clean up real quick, okay? i’ll be right back,” he murmurs, squeezing your cheeks when you nod. he’s back within mere seconds, irises now back their normal umber and fangs retracted, no longer more animal than human, no traces of your blood on his face anymore.

“you okay?” he asks softly, smiling when you offer a lethargic nod. he climbs over you, sliding his lips over yours, wet, languid kisses exchanged as he slides his hands up and down your sides. “y’did so well for me, darling. thank you for trusting me.”

“told you it would be worth it,” you shoot back, tiredly giggling when his eyes narrow. 

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replies, eyes softening around the edges as he drinks you in, every curve and edge — perfect. you are perfect to him. hands slides up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “you wanna take a bath, love?”

leaning up, you give him a small peck. “that sounds wonderful.”

as beomgyu gathers you in his arm, commenting how he should just burn these sheets since they’re basically ruined, you find yourself thinking that there’s no one else that you would rather spend the rest of your life with — the rest of eternity with, if he’ll allow it. for now, however, you’ll let him tend to you in the bath, pressing butterfly kisses to your neck from behind as you bask in each other’s presence, the sky outside fading from a deep black into a muted azure. 

for now, this is enough.

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[arminsumi]

could i request softdom!armin x shy!reader nsfw? reader is shy to the point she can’t even speak about fornication without blushing furiously, so how could she express her need for her sweet bf’s touch? 🙈

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐒𝐡𝐲

A/N: ahhh srry to take sooo long on this request but i hope u enjoy it thoroughly mwaaa!! 🤤💗

Wc ≈ 1.5k

Pairing: ARMIN Arlert x f.reader

Summary: Armin showing you it's alright to be needy for his touch 🥰

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, smut, lowercase used, semi-clothed sex, soft dom/sub dynamic, dirty talk, pns (baby, good girl, angel), condom used, fingering

“Angel, it’s totally natural; no need to be shy. Come here.” Armin murmured at you.

You timidly pawed over to him on his bed as he beckoned you, sitting there cross legged; his prettiness made it even harder for you to approach him even though his eyes were so tenderly welcoming.

“Sit on my lap.” He commanded gently, patting his thighs, “Promise I don’t bite.” He chuckled softly when you gave him a hesitant look.

It takes a lot of inner strength to straddle his lap. “Get comfy – c’mon, sit, sit.” He encouraged, his soft hands coming to guide you into a comfier position.

Min soothingly pecked under your ear on your neck. Your response was to cutely scrunch up your shoulders and give him a very, very shy look that absolutely melted his heart.

“You’re so cute, baby.” He said, letting his hand rest teasingly on your upper thigh. He gently squeezed. “You don’t need to hold back. Tell me what you want.”

You made a humming noise, “Well…” you began slowly, avoiding eye contact. Armin brought his other hand to the back of your neck, holding it with a loving touch, stroking his thumb back and forth to soothe your nerves.

“Just blurt it out.” He said, “I wanna hear it.”

“I wanna… ummm… ‘wanna have… sex… with you.” You said. Even uttering the word ‘sex’ was difficult. It felt so dirty.

Armin’s lips spread into the cutest, naughtiest smile that you’ve ever seen him bear. It made you shrivel up even more. Your heart panged.

“Yeah?” he feathered sultrily.

You subtly nodded. “I-if that’s okay?”

“Of course it is, baby.” He assured, holding back his overwhelming excitement. “Want me to guide you through it?”

He started running his soft hands over the curve of your hips, his fingertips grazed under the hem of your shirt.

You nodded.

“Use your words.” He encouraged gently, eager to hear you tell him more of what you wanted.

“Yes, please… ‘want you to be in control.” You told him.

He looked tenderly at you for a moment, then pressed a kiss to your lips. It was one of those kisses – the type that sparked your dirty fantasies in the first place. He started kissing you like that just a few months ago.

It felt like each kiss got slower and slower, more and more sensual. It got you hot between your thighs, subtly squirming on his warm lap. He was attentive to all your tiny movements; nothing slipped past him.

“Baby, keep squirming on my lap like that. ‘Feels good.” He murmured.

“Like this?”

“Mhm. Do it harder – yeahhh like that.” He moaned.

You let out a small whimper when you felt the outline of his cock through his jeans. A whimper so quiet that he almost missed it.

“You like that feeling, huh?” he asked. You nodded, hiding your face in his chest.

That was a common thing you did, he noticed it especially when his hands went between your thighs and massaged around.

“So sweet… need me to touch you here? Uh-huh, I can feel how wet you are. No no, don’t be embarrassed. It’s totally normal – fuck, yeah, squirm like that against my lap again. Keep going. Feels so fucking good – aww don’t hie your face haha.”

His hand came to stroke your cheek, the other working back and forth motions against your clothed pussy. “Want me to put my fingers in you? Yeah?”

You nodded, feeling a little more relaxed after his teasing touches. Something about his hands really turned you on – they were so pretty, so smooth and nimble. You always watched him buttoning up his shirts with a naughty glint in your eyes.

Your heartrate spiked when his hands slipped under your panties.

“Mmm!” you whimpered into his shirt when he toyed his fingertips at the entrance of your hole.

“Good girl. Just relax – oh my, haha… you really sucked my fingers right in, huh? Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to tease.”

Just the action of clenching and unclenching around his middle finger felt so dirty, you completely concealed your face in the crook of his neck. Your hands gripped at his shirt, body hugging tight to his toned chest.

“Does that feel good? Yeah? Feels good when I pump in and out like that?” he asked in a lowered tone, “How about two? Mhm, feels better with two doesn’t it?”

Two fingers, for some reason, made you approach your high really fast. “Feels too good…” you mumbled erotically.

“Wanna cum for me, baby?” he asked, pressing his fingertips against your sweet spot and massaging it in circular motions before returning to pumping his fingers in and out, going faster and faster, relishing in the way you moaned for him.

“Don’t hold back; let yourself feel it. Mmm there we go – oh fuck, I can feel it. Such a good girl.” He almost moaned when he felt you gush and clench around him. He worked his fingers inside you and thumbed at your clit until his hand cramped up.

Watching you subtly shake on his lap and hearing you whimper his name into his shirt made it so hard for him to keep his dick in his pants. He really needed to feel you. He’d thought about it for so long.

“Wanna keep going?” he asked you hopefully after you calmed down from your high. You withdrew your hot face from his neck and nodded.

“Yeah… ‘wanna see if I can take you.” You muttered lustfully. He was surprised at your choice of words, they were so much more dirty than what you’d usually have the courage to say.

“M’kay, baby, lay back and spread those legs for me.”

You did what he said, and he bounced over to his dresser and fished out a strip of condoms hidden in between his clothes. After fumbling with the wrapper between his wet fingers, he just used his teeth to tear the packet open – completely unaware of how you stared and watched like it was the hottest thing a man has ever done in front of you. He was such a sweet boyfriend, really, but sometimes he was so sexy that you couldn’t believe he was the same person.

“Hey,” he gently crawled back onto the bed and tapped his palm against your thigh. “open ‘em wider for me. Uh-huh, wider, like this…” he pushed your legs open wider with his own hands.

“Gonna keep your panties on?” he asked almost teasingly, he chuckled when you nodded shyly. “Alright, whatever makes you feel comfortable, baby. But you’re gonna need a new pair after I’m through with you – haha, sorry, don’t hide your face!”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, making you smile. “I’m so sorry that I’m so shy.” You mumbled.

“I don’t mind it at all. Actually, I like it.” He admitted, hands coming down between your thighs to toy with your plush pussy through the fabric of your panties.

He pushed them aside, and smoothly pulled down the waistband of his sweatpants. Your eyes widened when you watched his cock smack against his abdomen.

“Don’t worry, it’ll fit just fine. I stretched you out good on my fingers, baby. Now relax, yeah? Gonna fuck you nice and slow. You tell me what you don’t like, and tell me what you want more of… if you want it harder… slower… deeper… mhm, c’mere and give me a kiss.” He muttered against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you parted your lips for him. It felt buttery soft.

He squeezed int the condom and pressed his hot cockhead against your entrance, sliding it up and down your slit. The second you felt him splitting you open, you covered your face.

“Oh, you’re so fucking cute…” he moaned, melting at the sensation of your pussy hugging his sensitive cock. He sunk himself inside as slowly as he could just to see your reaction to every inch. “Not too big, yeah? Good, good. ‘Might be a bit much to take all of it. Mmm, no, trust me, it’s kinda – uhhh, fuck you’re tight!” he suddenly hissed, “Ah, no, that’s a good thing, don’t worry.”

He seethed while trying to pump himself in and out. Each time he pulled back, it felt like your pussy wanted to suck him right back in. “Can feel you clinging to me… ah, fuck, listen to that.. sounds so fucking dirty…” he muttered under his breath.

“Min!” you squealed, grabbing his arms for support.

He looked into your eyes caringly, “Yeah baby?”

“Feels so good – don’t stop.”

His lips curled into a smirk.

“I won’t baby. ‘Gonna show you how good it feels to cum with someone else.”

[niobiumao3]

So, here's what X-Men 97 did that TBB did not, for its main character death. Obviously, huge X-Men 97 and TBB spoilers.

The death happens at a pivotal moment story wise, but is NOT immediately abandoned for other plot.

Remy (Gambit) dies towards the end of an episode which is in and of itself a real jaw-dropper, much like Plan 99. Out of nowhere a safe haven for mutants is being glassed, and Remy sacrifices himself to put a stop to it, because he's a little crazy but also well aware of what he's capable of and knows it might be their only chance to save SOME of these people who are his fellow mutants. The episode ends with his lover, Rogue--who's finally decided she agrees with Remy on things and is going to choose him and the X-Men over an alternative--holding his lifeless body in her arms.

Tech, on the other hand, dies 1/3 into an episode and vanishes from sight. Our POV character here, Omega, is injured and doesn't witness most of the ensuing escape, so when she wakes up, she demands they go back for him, crying, and we see Wrecker cry and Hunter explain he didn't make it.

...and then the episode keeps going. They're betrayed. A villain tosses Tech's broken goggles at Hunter and threatens them. Omega is captured, the remaining members of the Batch barely escape. For almost twenty minutes of runtime AFTER Tech dies, the story keeps going and has NOTHING to do with him dying (save the dig about the goggles). His death gets maybe, at most, 2 entire minutes of focus between Omega and Wrecker's reactions, Hunter's when Hemlock gives him the goggles, and Echo looking at the empty pilot's chair. That's it; for the bulk of the episode Tech's death has next to ZERO involvement in the story. It's not the climax. it's just A Thing Which Happened, and that massively devalues it from a narrative viewpoint. No one stops for more than a single breath to react to it, thus we as the audience don't.

(If anyone is winding up with 'that's because they can't due to the everything', this is why it's NOT GOOD WRITING. If you want the death to matter to your viewers/audience then you need to MAKE the time for it in your story, somehow. This isn't real life, you DO in fact control the horizontal and the vertical when making your plot.)

In X-Men 97, the death is the immediate focus of the next episode and a character's entire arc of the ensuing episodes. In TBB, it's a footnote.

In the following X-Men 97 episode, Remy has a funeral which Rogue doesn't attend, not because she doesn't care but because she's off raging against the machines, trying to find those responsible and kill them. There's a gorgeous eulogy for Remy, some thinking back on who he was and what he meant to them, a friend angry at Rogue for not being with them. It's so good. We cut to Rogue, absolutely furious with grief and looking to take it out on, well, everyone. She winds up putting herself into a coma as a result.

Literally nothing like this happens for Tech. Nothing close. There's a several month timeskip in S3 eps 1-3 which negates any immediate mourning or revelations to people who wouldn't know (Crosshair, Phee, Shep and Lyana), and we see NONE of Wrecker, Hunter, OR Echo's processing. Just what we saw in Plan 99, which again, is almost nothing. For a main character who as of S2 had the third most screen time of any character.

In X-Men 97, Remy keeps coming up as someone to remind them of what they're fighting for, what he would want for them. Tech is a skillset and a pair of goggles.

Remy is the first thing on Rogue's mind when she wakes up from her coma. She's instantly grieving him all over again, and mentions him numerous times throughout the remaining episodes as someone who wouldn't want this for them, or would have hoped for that. He's a guide for her even though he's gone. The rest of the characters reflect on him off and on--not his skills or abilities, but who he was, his nature. Remy's death completely changes Rogue's behaviors, almost 180 degrees, as well.

Tech is mentioned for what he could do, not what he liked or didn't like, how he felt about things, save for once: when Phee reveals he told her all about Crosshair. This is the only time someone talks about him like people talk about Remy in X-Men 97, and it happens twelve episodes after he died.

No one's actual narrative course changes trajectory in the case of Tech's death either. No one is shown making different decisions based on his loss (just the lack of his skills), no one is bringing him up as a rallying call for themselves, nothing. He is excised from the show in terms of his emotional, character impact. The loss is of someone who can decrypt things or knows stuff, not of a beloved sibling.

Remy's presence remains throughout the rest of X-Men 97, despite him dying in episode 5 of 10. Tech vanishes and becomes an occasional reason they have to do something the hard way and a background prop.

If you want to know how to actually write a main character death and have it MATTER and make it good story telling, watch X-Men 97.

[thursdayinspace]

So much to say about the Duane Barry episodes and Scully's abduction, but mostly I find it amazing how much relationship development they managed to pack into a handful of episodes that Scully is barely in at all. It's already set up nicely: the hostage negotiation, Mulder being frustrated because first he's asked to help and then has to find out they're withholding information from him. Once again, he's not being taken seriously; he has to turn to Scully again even though they're not even partners anymore. He still relies on her, she's still the only one he can really trust. She comes all the way out there with the information she digs up when she can't reach him. She talks into his ear to help him resolve the situation. Afterwards, when they find that implant in Duane Barry, they try to figure that out together as well. As we've seen throughout all the episodes before, they fall back into their partnership easily, like it's the most natural thing in the world for them. And then she's abducted and everything falls apart. That's where it really picks up and it becomes clear that everything up to this point has been little more than a (very well done and important) prologue.

Mulder's silence at the beginning of "Ascension" is almost frightening. It's certainly intense. Somewhere between withdrawn and hyperfocused, with a good dose of fear mixed in. He tells Scully's mother that she's not in her apartment, and after that we don't hear him speak again until a good way into the conversation in Skinner's office the next morning, a good five minutes into the episode even though he's in every scene before then. And when he barely puts up a fight when Skinner tells him to go home, you know he's going rogue. He does not trust them to find Scully, and he certainly can't sit and wait while she's out there with Duane Barry.

He pushes himself beyond his limits, almost falling asleep at the wheel but refusing to let Krycek drive -- he doesn't give up the tiniest sliver of control. When the tram operator won't let them take the tram up the mountain, Mulder has no problem showing him his gun. He pushes the tram beyond safety limits. Does his acrobatics out in the open who knows how high up in the air -- risking his life -- after Krycek stops the tram.

And holy shit the way he loses it when he spots Scully's blood and hair on Duane Barry's hospital band is truly scary, I don't think we've ever seen him that angry before. But on second thought, maybe angry is the wrong word. He's acting out of fear and panic. I don't think even an angry Mulder would choke anyone. He isn't thinking straight anymore, his responses are almost primal at this point. He hasn't slept, he's running on adrenaline, he's no closer to finding Scully and now he knows she's injured.

Finding out about Krycek, Skinner reopening the x files . . . it all seems almost secondary. Not as important as his meeting with Scully's mother and her telling him to keep the cross necklace. He didn't have anyone this entire time to lean on or to talk to. And he still doesn't, but this is the closest he gets. He and Scully's mom are in similar places. For them, this is personal. I love that they're bonding over this, over their love for Scully and their worry about her. (Whatever meaning you want to read into the word "love" between Mulder and Scully at this point.)

The beginning of "One Breath" is so intense, Mulder running into that room in the hospital to find her lying there unconscious, hooked up to a respirator. Anger fueled by blind panic. "Who brought her here?" "How did she get here?" "Who did this to her?" "Listen, if you’re hiding anything, I swear, I will do anything, whatever it takes, I will find out what they did to her!" I love the scene and I absolutely love the way it's acted, big thumbs up to DD. Getting her back could have been the emotional release of that arc, but she comes back in a coma. It spikes the angst to a whole new level. Before, he didn't know whether she was okay or not, he could hold onto hope. Now he knows she's not okay. Getting her back does not let him finally sit down and take a deep breath and process any of it. Nothing is resolved, the fight is just taken elsewhere.

I just want to take a second to think about the fact that he sigend her living will as her witness. That is. A very intimate thing to do. And that moment needs to get the credit it deserves. Knowing that they have talked about the event of her being unable to decide for herself, knowing she let him in, let him sign it, and the fact that he did it? That is a huge HUGE thing.

What is really intriguing is that Mulder and Melissa clash in the way they do, because you'd expect them to get along. I wonder if they would have gotten along better had they met under different circumstances. But here, Mulder is in a very different place. He tends to go to extremes when the stakes are high, his single-minded focus in this moment doesn't allow for anything but action. He still believes he can do something. He doesn't even go in with them when they decide to pull the plug -- he refuses to accept a reality where she dies. We see that again in the cancer arc, where he tells her as much when she tells him her cancer is untreatable.

If anyone would go to the trouble of putting together a list of the top ten most heartbreaking moments from the entire show, Mulder's visit to CSM and the way his voice breaks when he asks "Why her?" would have to be on it. "Why her and not me?" It's the way he says it, but it's also what's in that question that makes it so heartbreaking. Because that's what it all boils down to. He feels guilty. He asked in the hospital "Who did this to her?" And throughout these episodes, in his head, he has always considered that person to be himself. He did this to her. Something we get to hear again and again all the way into the revival when he tells her he wishes she'd left that basement earlier so she'd have been spared from all the things that happened to her. He feels responsible.

(Just a short digression: He is not responsible. I feel like that's a very important thing to remember. Something her brother should have been told in the cancer arc too. Holding Mulder responsible robs Scully of all agency and makes her nothing more than a loyal puppy. But unpacking Bill Jr.'s implicit misogyny, and why the way Mulder feels responisble for everything is not the same thing, that is for another post. If anyone has thoughts on that though, I'd love to hear them.)

A real Mulder moment is him choosing not to take revenge on the men responsible for Scully's abduction, after X pretty much hand-delivers them to him on a silver tray, but rather to go to the hospital after Melissa tells him it might be his last chance, that Scully is dying. He will choose Scully over everything every time. Sitting at her bedside, taking her hand, the way he speaks to her -- it becomes clear how deep the feelings go but also how fragile and undefined it all is between them. They're friends, they're partners, they've flirted, they've told each other some of their deepest secrets, and he has no idea how to be around her now. "I don’t know if my being here . . . will help bring you back. But I’m here." His pause there before "will help bring you back" kills me. He honestly has no idea. He can hope, but he just doesn't know if he'd be a contributing factor in her decision to come back or move on, if she even hears him, if it's even in her control. (I've always wondered when he says in the revival that he invented wishing someone back to life when she was in the hospital, whether he was talking about her cancer or about this moment, or maybe both.)

He gets his breakdown once he comes back home to his destroyed apartment. Sliding down the wall crying -- such a moment. There's no anger in that anymore. No action. He expects to be losing her at that point and all the fight has left him. Until he gets the phone call that she's okay.

Could the episode have benefited from a slightly longer scene at the end? Maybe. It seems a bit anticlimactic, after all he's been through, that he walks into her room, gives her that silly tape (such a Mulder thing to do), hands her the cross necklace back, and that's pretty much it. On the other hand, considering the scene by her bedside before, maybe it fits. He doesn't know where he stands with her, and she's with her family.

I do think the ending is a bit abrupt, but that can easily be forgiven with all that those episodes provided before that. If anyone can see more in that ending than I do, I'd love to hear it because I really don't quite know what to make of it. But they seriously sent Mulder on a journey there, and it worked. And it sets so many things in motion, for the plot and for their relationship.

[zalrb]

I find that the fandom here diminishes Silver and Madi's relationship so much so coming across this transcript was really nice:

[LUKE:] Okay. But, yeah, that I think it was so– it just shocked him in such a deep way, which is why even though it maybe wasn't the– the relationship hadn’t gone on for so long, for him it was everything, and it was her in a lot of ways, and it was also just a part of him– he was kind of finding a part of himself through Madi that I don't think he'd ever– I think even before, after the thing– even before the show started, he was so like– his refusal to connect with anyone, because of things he'd been through before and knowing what it cost to connect to anyone. And whether it was the crew or Flint and this, even when he was, like, becoming brothers with the crew, it was a responsibility, but it was also– I think he had a fear of being left behind and being, as he says, a cripple with nothing, where Madi– the way that human connection hit him with Madi just– the idea of losing that turned him into– I think completely changed his nature.

[DAPHNE:] Yeah, the moment that we really noted that was in episode five, right after Flint had given up and gone with Eleanor and when they had the conversation, “but will you be enough” and they were arguing but then Madi turned around and said to him “I understand how hard this is for you” and Liz and I talked about that a lot, that up until then, you know, Silver had always presented himself as a really useful tool to everyone and everyone was really happy to exp– like, to use him that way. I mean, we learned in 409 – and we need to talk a lot about four or nine – that Flint sought more than that, but that up until that point, for the viewer experience, was that Silver presented himself as useful. Everyone said “awesome, you're useful, but I don't really give a shit about how this affects you” and that that was the first time that we, the viewers, saw a person say to Silver: “you know what? I understand you. I care about you. We're disagreeing right now, but understand that I'm taking seriously how this is affecting you as a person” and that, for us, was like– the moment we were like, okay, there's just no way that this isn't the primary relationship for Silver from this moment on, even though it seemed really hard for Silver to lose Flint just then, in those tunnels.

[ELIZABETH:] Well, and that kind of thing makes me wish that we had seen more of how Silver and Madi got together, as beautiful as that hard cut was to the two in bed and just beautiful and glowing, like, yes, this happened! Alright! I would have loved to see those moments of the human connection that you talked about that startled and surprised him and that he leaned into and how, because while it– while we all, you know, were ready for it, I would have liked to see a little bit more. I'm sure it was lovely.

[LUKE:] No, absolutely, because, once again, anytime you actually got to see them afterwards, other than that one, you know, kind of bedroom scene, there's serious plot going on, you know, which is all–

[DAPHNE:] Yeah, yeah, yeah, they're like totally under pressure.

[LUKE:] Yeah. Yeah. I do know. Yeah. It is that thing, that he got to that point where it was– it was like where he was with Madi at the end, it wasn't him tactfully doing this or deciding to do anything.

[ELIZABETH:] Right. It was the only thing he could do.

[LUKE:] It was everything is being saying: “I want her. I want her safe. Whatever is in my control I will use to make that happen” and–

LUKE:] No, and I think if in Silver's mind, at that point, he does– he has come to the point where he sees Flint as– he said at the end of season three that “you destroy the people closest to you”. That had almost become a fact within Silver at that point, and then he wants to fight for Madi's cause but she becomes so alike Flint and Flint’s become even more this agent of chaos, that as much– and he knows Flint better than Madi ever will. He's seeing Madi become a disciple of Flint within this war, ready to follow him everywhere, and she's much smarter than him and knows more than him in a lot of ways, but she does not know Flint like he knows Flint and I think, for him, the choice to say– and I’m, once again, not defending it, but I think for him, the moment of going, no, I'm taking that away as an option, because I don't see how we come– I don't see how you come out of this alive and you might be willing to risk your life, but I cannot– not even the choice of I can weigh up the pros and cons of this anger, I understand your sight, I just cannot. That cannot be a possibility for me. I cannot not do everything in my power to stop that from happening, and it's probably not– it's not the most enlightened, most– you know, once again, the way– yeah, I think it’s what you do, you talk about the way to love people and their– but for him, I don't think he has a choice at that point. He's a man compelled to do everything he can to keep danger away from her. And Flint is the embodiment of that danger.

[mvltisstuff]

Hey! Can you please do a enemies to lovers (both in 118) with eddie diaz? Thanks:)

chasing pavements - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

gif from @agentoutofdiaz

a/n: THREE MORE FINALS GUYS I GOT THIS 🤌🤌 also i am absolutely not up to par with the quality of my enemies to lovers, but i hope you still enjoy 😉

y/n asked herself the same question every single day at the beginning of her shift. what had she done to make eddie hate her so much? it seemed like he physically was unable to smile when she was around. he avoided her like the plague when in reality, she just wanted to be professional about this.

it’s a natural human response to dislike someone back. people never want to be hated and often get frustrated with the other person involved. y/n always thought the word was too harsh, always regretting it when she said it, but there was no other word to describe their relationship.

eddie’s life has been nothing but uncertainty. having a life with nothing to expect led him to loneliness, craving any form of relationship he had. after the army, he struggled with trying to get back to reality. y/n brought him back too easily, and it irked him.

it didn’t help that she was eerily similar to him personality wise. he hates to admit it, but y/n reminds him of all the things he wishes he could change in himself and she is the constant reminder of that. he couldn’t pick something specific out that he didn’t like through all the time of being bugged by her.

as a prime example, y/n walked into work that morning and almost instantly, eddie’s laugh faded away. she wasn’t even going to say anything, she couldn’t deal with him with everything else going on. her family has been on her case the past few weeks and it doesn’t seem to be over. she’s completely burnt out, eddie being part of the ash. she still showed up at work at the 118, perfectly on time for everyone else is her escape.

there’s no denying that she is a wonderful addition to the 118. she’s wildly talented in her field and knows exactly where she’s needed. she’s looked up upon by her coworkers.

“hey, y/n!” buck says, excited to see his friend.

“hi, buck,” she replies, lightly smiling trying to shield any thoughts from eddie or what she’s dealing with. she looks around at everyone, picking around at the bowl of fruit someone had cut up. the team had noticed she’d been off, zoning out and not celebrating with them as much. the thought she was avoiding them after work, and she really was.

she figured anything eddie had to say to her would just add to the pile of stress that she had, so she let him go out with the team for drinks and other stuff. everyone loved eddie, and if she caused problems with him, she thought they’d take his side without hearing the story.

of course, the affect of athena has rub off on bobby and his investigation. he wanted to have a little fun, seeing how bad y/n and eddie were together. he knew working together and saving people would be fine, so he decided to put them on ambulance together. of course, both of them thought they’d been denied to get through the gates of heaven when bobby passed out the demand. the first call was simple, driving to the hospital silently other than vital checks and orders. the next was too, neither of them speaking to each other unless they were administering something. the last call was particularly difficult for y/n, being a close reminder of what she had to deal with at home.

it was just a little kid, being the scapegoat of all the families problems. all the fights, he sat and listened to something he couldn’t control. he was so little that he called 911 out of fear, the police and the ambulance showing up. y/n was relieved no one was actually hurt and no one needed to go to the hospital, but something about it really sent her over the edge.

she was driving the ambulance back to the station, eddie in the passengers seat. she said harmless words to him, “poor kid, it sucks having to deal with that.”

“well, there’s nothing we can do. cant intervene.”

“i know, i just wish i could’ve helped-“

“what could you have helped, y/n?” he interrupts abruptly, causing her to glance at him. “clearly, you have no clue what it’s like to go through that because you wouldn’t be so caught up on it. it’s not like you would’ve made a difference anyway.”

his words were like a sword in her chest. there’s no way he really things she’s no help. the impact she’s made in the community is noticeable, and she tries so hard everyday to make the own community of her last name come together. he was hitting way too close to home, and it was her last straw before the light tears formed on her waterline. she blinked them away, trying to clear her sight but the stinging in her eyes kept bringing them up. she was already embarrassed enough, and crying in front of her the person who hated her was even more humiliating.

“jesus, y/n,” eddie mocks. “you’re a damn adult, there’s no valid reason to be crying right now.”

as they get closer to the station, she pulls into the garage, parking carefully before she shakily shoves her door open. thank god her shift ended before his did, so she could get out of this hellhole. “screw you, diaz,” she says as one final press to his button. he leans back in his seat, not expecting her to retort back to him.

she rubs her red eyes, shuffling out of the car and abandoning the ambulance behind her. eddie couldn’t even bring himself to get out. he thought he might be having a heart attack because of the new feeling he has. did he feel bad for her? he didn’t think that was possible, she’d had enough pity come her way. when y/n walked past everyone and into the showers, hen, chim, and buck gave him a look that had, “are you serious?” written all over their faces. y/n scrubbed off every last word she had received from eddie, or she tried, at least. they stuck with her like a spider in a trap, along with the other baggage she’d been carrying.

the alarm had gone off while she was in the showers, telling her that eddie was gone on a call with the rest of the team. she went into the locker rooms to get the rest of her stuff and leave this exhausting day behind her. she was shoving her stuff into her duffel bag when eddie’s phone started going wild in his cabinet. he usually brings it on calls. she didn’t let the curiosity get the best of her, needing no more reminders of him in her mind. so, she climbed into her car and started the drive home, even though nothing would be different there.

she notices someone sitting on the sidewalk against the stairs of a building. she knew who it was instantly. eddie’s son, christopher, had been waiting outside which was very odd. school had ended a while ago. his red crutches were sitting next to him and he looked around desperately for anyone he knew. she knew she couldn’t leave him there, and eddie didn’t have his phone, so she pulled into the parking lot next to the building.

“christopher? what are you doing here?”

“tía was supposed to pick me up but she didn’t show up, so i was gonna walk home.”

“oh, buddy. i’d call your dad but he’s on a call.”

“i just want to go home,” chris says, making a frown form on y/n’s face.

“you have a key, right?” christopher nods. “here, i’ll bring you home and i can make you something to eat.”

she helps him get into the car and he tells her where to go, eventually pulling up the the house of eddie. he’d probably flip his shit if he knew she was here, but he’d want his son safe at home more. it’s not like she could’ve taken him to her apartment, eddie would be livid.

the 118 had arrived back at the station, putting away their gear and setting their stuff back where it should be. eddie had overheard someone say that there were repeated calls to someone in the locker room, so he decided he should probably check his phone. his heart skipped a beat when he saw his tías name flashing across the screen a million times. “tía! ¿que paso?”

“it’s christopher! i completely forgot he was getting out at a different time and i was picking him up,” eddie hears her say and he almost drops his phone to the ground. “i went to the school, and he wasn’t there, edmundo.”

“what?” he says. “ok, i’m leaving now, i’ll go look. maybe another parent dropped him off.”

eddie speeds over to his home, passing all the cars slower than him. he would never recover if something happened to chris. he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. he slams his car door shut, running to the door and frantically turning the doorknob. he rapidly moves inside, shouting christopher’s name, praying for a reply. he walks into the kitchen to see y/n standing over a boiling pot, and his face goes pale as a ghost when he sees her.

“he’s in the living room with headphones on. i found him trying to walk home,” y/n tells him.

“where was he?”

“the offices on north west,” she takes notices of his expression. “i’m sorry, eddie. i can leave in a minute. i would’ve called you, but-“

“no apologizing, don’t worry about it,” he says, calmly. “thank you. so much, y/n, thank you.”

she nods, smiling lightly because this might get her in the door a bit better. “it’s really not a problem. i was happy to do this for him, i just wanted him safe for you.”

she begins to gather her belongings like her phone and wallet, putting it back into her purse and picking up.

“y/n, wait,” eddie says, placing a hand on her arm. “i have to say i’m sorry. i was nothing but a complete dick for no reason and i had no clue you had so much going on. i got yelled at by hen and was told to lay off.”

y/n laughs a bit, “are you only saying this because hen told you to?”

“absolutely not. y/n, you just saved my son. god only knows what could’ve happened, i mean we live in a massive city. it means the world to me that you were there for him when i couldn’t be. i’ve treated you like shit and you’ve never even done a bad thing. you just… scared me.”

“i scared you? i think you can take the prize there, eddie.”

“ok, maybe not scared, but i was intimidated. because i see so much of myself in you and i couldn’t handle that.”

“it’s ok, really. i just need breather for a little. i am that little kid that we got called to today and you completely disregarded it. i would have never done that to you.”

“i never, ever want to make you feel like that again. i want to make this work, you and i. so, stay for dinner tonight. you already went through the hassle of cooking for him, why don’t you eat it?”

“i’m happy to make boxed mac and cheese for him anytime, eddie. and i’m here for you and your kid whenever you need it.” she and eddie sit down at the table, letting whatever was on their chest come out as christopher played video games in the other room.

[scrollonso]

Angel — Pierresteban (+ Kika)

Pierre has dreamed of this moment for a long time now, if he’s honest with himself.

He’s had a thing for Esteban for as long as he can remember, and they’d had brief encounters here and there when they were younger and single and just reckless enough to mess around with a coworker and close friend without worrying about all the ways it could backfire. But those moments were fleeting, far too rare to ever truly satisfy Pierre — if he could even be satisfied at all.

He’s greedy, and he knows it.

He’s with Kika now, and he’s happy. Absolutely head-over-heels for her, and their love life — and sex life — leaves him wanting for nothing. But, damn, Esteban is hard to ignore.

Especially lately.

Esteban was attractive back in the day, sure. The shaggy hair and lean build, the boundless energy, and his unfailing patience with Pierre, even when he was being difficult, were undeniably appealing. But now, Esteban’s matured into stronger, more masculine features, adopting a polished, well-kept look — even at his most laid-back — and a broad-shouldered build that makes even Pierre feel small. His kindness, however, hasn’t changed. If anything, as they’ve grown closer over the years, Esteban’s tolerance for him has shifted into open affection; especially since Pierre’s softened a bit himself, no longer hiding behind snarky remarks and finally accepting the care and appreciation Esteban offers him — albeit a little reluctantly.

So yes, he’s very much greedy, and he knows it. But he thinks it’s justified when Esteban looks like that. When Pierre remembers just how good he was in bed, how attuned he was to Pierre’s body, and how he could say exactly the right words to make him lose control. He misses it. Misses being held down, told what to do, misses the thrill of it all.

That’s why he brought it up to Kika, after a lot of careful thought and some very cautious phrasing, so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea or think he was hiding his true self or using her as a cover.

No, Pierre isn’t gay. Bisexual, yes, proudly so, but not gay.

And, no, Kika isn’t a cover for anything. He loves her more deeply than he’s loved anyone in his life.

Whatever. He’d unpack all those feelings later. For now, he just needed to tell Kika that maybe he wanted to open things up a bit more, take their relationship a step beyond the bedroom.

Preferably not while he’s on all fours, as bare as the day he was born, waiting for Kika to do something.

“God, we should’ve done this sooner,” Kika says. Pierre can’t see her, of course, but he feels the warmth of her breath fanning over the back of his bare thigh. “You’re a sight to behold like this.”

Kika’s fingers start grazing the backs of his thighs with delicate, teasing touches that make him buck his hips back, trying to get more—more pressure, more heat, more anything—but she’s quick to step back entirely, a small, derisive sound escaping her throat to remind him he’s already getting ahead of himself.

There’s a natural confidence in the way Kika takes charge that’s always left Pierre a little awestruck. He should’ve brought this up ages ago — his desire to be dominated and put in his place every now and then. It would’ve saved him plenty of rushed, unfulfilling sessions in the shower, biting his fist to keep from making too much noise.

So when she finally places her hands on his ass, kneading at the flesh the same way he often does to her, his legs nearly give out.

“Might have to fuck you myself sometime soon. Not fair that Esteban gets to have you like this and I don’t.” The pout in her voice is one Pierre knows well — the one she uses when she’s aiming to get the upper hand, as if she doesn’t already always have it. The fact that she’s using it now, when he’s given himself over entirely to her, borders on absurd.

"You like it when I use my strap on you, don’t you?” Pierre moans in response, any hope of articulate speech long gone, and Kika takes his sounds as the affirmation they’re meant to be. “Hm. Maybe next time, I’ll make you fuck me with a dildo inside you. Can’t let you have all the fun, you’ll end up spoiled.” Her fingers start tracing his spine, her perfectly manicured nails drawing shivers down his back.

“Yes. Yesyesyes. Whatever— whatever you want, just— yes. Please, yes.”

“God,” Kika chuckles, breathless and a bit amazed, but Pierre couldn’t care less that she’s seeing just how needy he is. She’d better get used to it anyway. And quickly, considering Esteban’s due to join them soon.

Kika takes a moment to collect herself after hearing the full force of Pierre’s begging, her hands wandering over his back, pressing down just enough to tease him further. He wants nothing more than to be pinned into the mattress, held in place so he has no choice but to take what she gives him. But when she’s ready, she lets him know by dragging her nails down his back a little harder, and Pierre can only wonder why he hadn’t thought to ask her for this sooner.

Her hands slide around his waist, fingers pressing into his skin, nails leaving small indents that make him grip the pillow under his head even tighter.

“I see why Esteban didn’t hesitate to say yes,” she murmurs. “You’re so pretty like this, I don’t know how he’s gone all these years without having you bent over for him.”

Pierre, spurred on by her words and by all the teasing she’s put him through since they’d talked with Esteban weeks ago, tries to grind down against the sheets.

But Kika is quick to pull him up by his hips, delivering a slap to his thigh that leaves a lingering sting and a sharp echo in the room.

It’s the first time Kika’s done anything like this, and if Pierre were a simpler man — or just a bit more desperate — he’d probably come from that alone.

But he’s got a little more pride than that; a decade’s worth of experience being roughed up — properly roughed up — has taught him restraint.

Still, he can feel himself already leaking, and the whimper that escapes him as the sting fades into a warm burn is shameful in a way that only makes him ache even more.

“God, Pierre. I knew you were a slut but a pain-slut? That’s extreme even for you.”

She gives him only a second of reprieve before she brings her open palm down on his asscheek this time, her free hand already at his hip so he doesn’t even think about sinking down onto the bed. Pierre's breath hitches in his throat and he bites down on his lip from the surprise, tasting blood almost immediately.

“Kika,” Pierre says, voice already hoarse.

“What is it, baby?” there’s an abrupt shift in her tone, worry seeping through it loud and clear. “Want me to stop? Slow down?”

“No, no, please don’ stop, I just— Do that again, please.”

Kika doesn’t answer, not really, just hums in acknowledgment and waits a second before striking him again, a little more forcefully so Pierre knows she has committed to giving him what he wants. Pierre can only whine, biting his already abused lip harshly, because he is a painslut.

Kika presses a light kiss over the offended skin and steps away, the empty air behind Pierre immediately feels colder and he whines, high and needy, to try and get her back near him. 

She’s standing next to the bed now. Pierre knows, not because he can see her since his face is half-pressed against the pillow and his eyes are clenched shut, but because she’s running her fingers through his hair as a reassurance.

He doesn’t have to see her to know what she’s doing, either. The sound of their nightstand drawers as they open and close is something Pierre could recognize in his sleep, much like its meaning. So he’s not surprised when he hears Kika uncap the bottle of lube or when he feels the cold drag of the metal plug as she traces the outside of his thigh with it.

This is familiar territory for both of them.

One of the first things Pierre had asked for when their relationship was in its earlier stages and he was starting to feel the restlessness of wanting more was for her to finger him. She’d taken it in stride, as she did with everything else Pierre asked for. He is really fucking lucky to have her.

The first time they tried it at all it’d taken a lot of instruction from Pierre. A lot of “Hold on," and, “Alright move,” and, “Curl your fingers right there,” until Kika muttered a comment about it not being much different from fingering a girl which prompted Pierre to raise a brow in an unspoken question Kika managed to avoid answering by hitting his prostate just right and making him forget all about it.

The first time they used a plug came only a little after that.

Because, although getting fingerfucked by his girlfriend was something straight out of his fantasies, Pierre always found the lingering sensations from it to be yet another tease about something he couldn’t have; not without a lot of conversations, ones he hadn’t felt prepared for yet.

They didn’t even have to buy the plug. Pierre had it stored away with some other toys Kika had eyed with glee when he showed her his little collection. It's always been his favorite thing. A heavy, stainless steel plug that managed to keep him floaty and grounded at the same time with how full it made him feel. It’d been Este's favorite thing too, back in the day. He loved to plug Pierre right after coming inside him, and Pierre was never one to say no to a good deal. Kika, too, took a great liking to it, openly declaring to him how amazed she was that he could take so much, how he was such a good boy for it.

However, it was the first time she was going to be doing all of this when he was in such an obscene position when he knew what would come later.

It was hotter, too, because of that.

Kika starts like she always does, with soft touches all over his ass and just toying with him further. Pierre shoves his hips back towards her, moaning loudly when his naked skin meets the rough fabric of her jeans.

Kika isn’t happy at his antics and she lets him know by smacking him on the side of his thigh, harsh and unforgiving, before stepping away from him once more. Pierre feels like he’s about to cry with how much he wants and how little he’s being given. Kika sighs, much like she does when Simba makes a mess she’ll have to clean up, and lets him just wallow for a moment without saying anything.

“If you’re so hellbent on getting what you want then you probably don’t even want my help, do you?”

Pierre is about to respond, to plead with her, really, not to stop touching him — that he’ll take whatever she wants to give, even if it’s just incendiary touches and nothing else. But Kika is already grabbing one of his wrists, pulling it away from the pillow he’s been white-knuckling for a while, and covering his fingers messily in lube.

“Go on, then. If you want to be full so badly that you can’t even wait for me to do it, you should open yourself, baby.”

She drops his hand over his ass, and it falls like dead weight, Pierre too boneless to exert any control over his limbs.

“Go ahead and make it interesting for me, since you and Esteban are having all the fun tonight.”

The reminder of what’s to come pulls him out of his stupor, and he’s rushing to fill himself with his fingers. It takes less than two minutes before he’s got two fingers inside himself, thrusting wildly — he’s never been fond of moderation.

Kika laughs sweetly behind him.

“You’re gonna make yourself come before me or Esteban even get our hands on you. Is that what you want, babe? To be already fucked out and useless when Esteban gets here? Won’t be too fun for him, I bet.”

Pierre tries to shake his head but is still pressed tight against the pillow.

“Maybe he’ll fuck me then, and we’ll just make you watch,” she says conversationally. Pierre whines, somewhere between a protest and a plea. “No? Are you going to be a good boy, then, and wait for Esteban to fuck you? Or are you so needy that you just can’t help yourself, baby?”

It takes Pierre a moment to push past the fog of his arousal, his brain sluggish with want, and it’s only when Kika yanks his hand away and presses it harshly against his lower back that he realizes she’s asked a question.

“Pay attention, babe,” she says softly, but the underlying warning is unmistakable. “Are you gonna behave or not?”

Pierre tries to fight her hold, but his body already feels like jelly, and his thrashing only makes Kika dig her nails into his wrist, making him bite down on his cheek to keep from squealing.

“I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be so good, please, just let me— I need—”

Kika rewards him with a light slap to his thigh. “I know, babe, I know. I’ll give it to you, yeah? And then Esteban will too, but for that, you need to stop being so needy, okay?”

Pierre nods as best as he can, and thankfully it’s response enough for Kika, who lets go of his hand but stays hovering over him.

“Go on, then. Open yourself for me.”

And he does, to the best of his ability while Kika distracts him with soft touches and murmured praise, the heat of their bodies echoing between them and searing Pierre’s skin. He’s three fingers deep and dangerously close to coming when Kika stops him again. She silences his complaints with tender touches and light kisses pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Good boy, look at you. You’re doing so well for me, baby,” she says. “Gonna get the plug now, okay? Do you still want it?”

Pierre babbles his affirmative, and Kika kisses his shoulder once more before getting up. His thighs are starting to strain, and he’s so hard it hurts, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

Kika sits back on the bed, and Pierre hears the lube uncapping again. He tries to breathe, hoping not to come just from the idea of the plug.

He gets no warning before Kika presses the cold metal against his hole. This time, when Pierre tries to rut against the mattress, Kika doesn’t stop him.

She has her fun, fucking him slowly with the plug, letting it get to the widest part before taking it back, only to do it all over again. Pierre isn’t sure he can handle much more; he’s already so spaced out, and Esteban hasn’t even arrived yet.

“Kik—Kika, ‘m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” she says dismissively, finally pushing all of the plug in and immediately stepping away.

Pierre could cry.

“Stay still now, babe,” Kika commands. “I’ll go get Esteban, yeah?” She doesn’t wait for his response before she leaves.

Kika, damn her, knows exactly what he likes and where his limits lie. This whole “stay just like that while I go do something else” shtick is one he’s well accustomed to. It’s a test of his obedience and a tease for his exhibitionist side.

And he’s never failed a test of obedience before — not unless he did it on purpose, that is. So, he stays mostly still, shifting a little on his knees to get more comfortable and rolling his head on the pillow so he can press his forehead against it.

Waiting isn’t hard. He’s been waiting for years.

Pierre only knows Esteban has stepped into the room because of his familiar giggle.

He and Kika exchange pleasantries, and Pierre knows, from Esteban’s tone and Kika’s barely concealed laughter, that it’s only to mess with him. He’s so focused on not moving an inch that he doesn’t notice Esteban next to him until his hand maps out his back. Pierre keens at the sudden touch, and Esteban shushes at him.

“It’s alright, mon ange, it’s alright,” he says, “I’m right here. Gonna give you what you want, yeah?”

“Please, oh, please, I’ve been good, I’ve been so good, please—”

“Oh, really?” Esteban says, his hand stopping right at his nape. “That true, Kika?”

“A bit needy but yeah. I’ve seen him do worse.”

“He’s probably just excited. Right, doll?”

Pierre wants to tell him — both of them, really — that he’s been waiting for fucking years for this, but all he can manage is another choked moan that gets a laugh out of Esteban.

“Use your words, baby, c’mon,” he says, and Pierre realizes the one thing he didn’t miss about Esteban was that fucking phrase. “Tell me how badly you want me,” he adds, a little lower.

“Want you so bad, Esteban, please, please, s'il vous plaît—” he starts babbling, but Esteban just tuts unappreciatively.

“Didn’t ask you to beg, honey. Y’know I don’t like it when you’re a slut, yeah?”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.”

Esteban chuckles, “That’s not good enough, doll. D’you remember how we show we’re sorry?”

And, oh, he does remember. But the apology Esteban is demanding from him is not something he ever thought Kika would see. Sure, he knew he’d get fucked in front of her — that was most of the appeal — but for Esteban to ask this of him…

“Yes, sir.”

Esteban’s hand leaves his nape and leaves him untethered. He has a second to ponder on what he should do next before Esteban solves that for him, saying, “knees.”

It’s a well-practiced command. One of the many single-word instructions that made up most of their vocabulary back in the day; when there wasn’t enough time for proper dirty talk and details. Pierre remembers every single time Esteban dragged him into a dressing room or a bathroom or a supply closet and said the exact same word. Knees. Pierre doesn’t dwell on how the timber of it has changed, doesn’t have time when he has to regain control over his muscles and shove himself off the bed, landing in front of Esteban on his knees, his eyes fixated on Esteban’s boots — just how Esteban likes it.

He regrets his carelessness when his knees hit and drag on the carpet floor, knowing he’s going to be feeling the pain for weeks on end, but he thinks the burn of them is worth it when Esteban pets his hair soothingly.

“You ever have him like this, Kika?” Esteban asks. Kika doesn’t say anything, but she must shake her head because Esteban continues, “Shame. I think you’d like it. He’s so pretty on his knees.” Pierre keens. “C’mere.”

Kika’s heels appear right behind Esteban’s boots.

The next command he gets isn’t spoken. Esteban only has to tap the base of his jaw for Pierre to look up.

The image of both Esteban and Kika towering over him, Esteban smiling softly and Kika looking intrigued, is one he burns into his memory.

“Hi, mon ange,” Esteban murmurs softly, “Fucking missed you.”

And then Esteban’s bending down, his hands cradling Pierre’s face, guiding him into a kiss that feels years overdue. He lets himself be kissed, his own hands coming up to hold Esteban’s wrists in an attempt to stabilize himself.

Esteban’s kisses, if possible, are better than Pierre remembers. So easy to sink into. So good he’d be content with just this — Esteban’s lips on his, kissing him like it’s his life purpose — and nothing else, tonight and forever.

“Really fucking missed you,” Esteban muses a little breathlessly when they part.

Pierre can’t take the adoring look on Esteban’s face for too long. It sets him alight in a gentle fire that feels placeless in this scenario and makes him restless for another thing he can’t have — not yet anyway. So, he looks past Esteban’s shoulder to see Kika already looking at him, equally as fond as Esteban, but the affection doesn’t feel as uncharted when it’s written over her face.

Whatever he did in a past life to earn himself this pair, he doesn’t know, but he’s incredibly grateful for it.

Esteban is the one to snap him out of his trance, turning Pierre’s face so their eyes meet again.

“Look at me, doll. Don’t go getting distracted now,” he says, his fingers digging into the permanent baby fat in Pierre’s cheeks.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Second time you’ve said that today and I only just got here, mon ange. Is that how you’re gonna be all night? Messing up at every turn? Another sorry, sir every five seconds?” Esteban has a talent for sounding demeaning while keeping his voice soft and low. It makes Pierre whimper with how overtaken he is by the need to do better, be better for him.

He tries to shake his head but Esteban’s grip on his jaw tightens, and he can’t do much more than whine another, “Sorry, sir. ‘m sorry, I’ll be better, please,” that makes Esteban scoff and let go of him again.

Pierre falls forward, his hands land on Esteban’s hips, and he looks up pleadingly. Esteban doesn’t even extend the courtesy of meeting his eyes, looking back at Kika over his shoulder.

“I swear he didn’t use to be like this,” he says, like Pierre is just a restless pet.

“He forgets his place sometimes,” Kika says with a sigh. Esteban tilts his head in understanding and looks back at him. Pierre’s grip on his hips tightens a bit, trying to express the plea that he knows Esteban won’t want to hear.

“He better learn quickly, then,” Esteban says. “Belt. Be quick about it.”

Pierre fumbles, his unsteady hands not making the process of taking the belt off of Esteban any easier. Esteban throws his head back, groaning theatrically.

“You’d think he’d be faster with how eager he is,” he says to Kika. Pierre pouts, still fighting a war against the belt loops that seem to be conspiring against him.

“Not all sluts are good sluts, Esteban,” Kika says, making Esteban chuckle.

Pierre finally gets the belt off. He folds it haphazardly and offers it to Esteban with both his hands. Esteban’s looking at him unimpressed. “So you can follow instructions. Good.” Pierre doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, stuck between loving the dismissive edge to Esteban’s voice and chasing after whatever praise he can get. “Go on, you know what to do.”

Pierre nods, his hands going back to fumbling with the button and zipper of Esteban's pants, vaguely registering how the leather belt is tracing the skin on his shoulders. It’s making him shudder, making his job clumsier all the while. It’s a ploy he knows well; Esteban will give him an instruction and then try to distract him from it — genius in a very evil way.

“You know, Kika?” Esteban says. Kika hums, but it sounds further than before. “I’ve always thought he’d look pretty with a collar. What do you think?” Pierre is just about done with his job when Esteban taps the underside of his chin again. He’s barely lifted his eyes to meet Esteban’s when the belt is wrapped loosely around his neck; Esteban fastens it so the excess hangs from his hand.

“I can see the appeal,” Kika says, sounding disinterested as ever. “Maybe one with a dog tag and a leash.”

Esteban chuckles at that. “He’s already our bitch. Might as well make him look the part.”

“Please,” Pierre whimpers.

“Yeah?” Esteban pulls on the leather around his neck, bringing Pierre closer. “C’mon, finish the job that you started.”

Pierre quickly pushes Esteban’s pants down and pulls his dick out, his mouth watering at the sight. He sticks his tongue out and leans forward a little, showing Esteban he's ready and looking up at him for approval.

"Go on," Esteban encourages, "show us you can be a good boy."

Pierre submits to his control easily, allowing Esteban to lead his mouth onto his cock. The weight of Esteban’s dick in his mouth is yet another thing he missed, and he shows his appreciation for it by pulling out all his old tricks — the ones that helped rush their clandestine meetings along.

“That’s good,” Esteban says, his voice smooth and patronizing. Esteban’s praise, though laced with mockery, is more than welcome. Sadly, he doesn’t get to properly cherish it before Esteban gives his next command. “Enough. Stay.”

Pierre stops moving, Esteban’s cock halfway in his mouth. He drops his hands, holding them behind his back without waiting for Esteban’s instruction. He lets his eyes flutter closed, diverting all his focus to keeping as still as possible and being mindful of his breathing and how he’s starting to drool around Esteban’s dick.

It almost feels like a gift. Getting to sit there just holding Esteban's cock in his mouth, finally able to relish it properly now that there's no rush or threat of anyone walking in on them. Pierre pushes away the thought that maybe he's always been a little too into Esteban, and how he's already missing this even as he's right in the midst of it.

A pair of hands on his shoulders do away with those thoughts, though. He can tell it’s Kika by the softness of her palms, meeting at the base of his neck. She takes the belt that's still wrapped around his neck and pulls back toward her, eliciting a whine out of Pierre, making him squirm under the pull of the makeshift collar and the urge to stay still to please Esteban.

“So you just have him sit with your dick in his mouth?” Kika asks.

Esteban nods, carding his fingers through Pierre's hair. “He's an overeager little thing. Kept stepping out of line and saying sorry. Until I got tired of sorry and told him to put his mouth to better use. But then, since he loves sucking cock so much, I thought he could just sit there and take it for a bit, learn a thing or two about patience.”

Esteban forms a fist with his fingers tangled in Pierre’s hair, pulling on his scalp just enough to make it sting. “And it seems he has learned. You’ve done so well for us, pet. I think it’s time you get taken care of. What do you think, Kika?” Pierre whines around Esteban as Kika hums noncommittally.

Pierre's eagerness, if possible, burns even harder within him.

Kika delivers his next instruction, far more polite than Esteban, “On the bed, babe,” with another tug on the belt.

Pierre's dizzy with want and excitement, and he jumps to kneel on the bed before Kika's even done telling him to. He’s confused and a little saddened when only Esteban is with him on the bed, Kika sitting a couple of feet away from them on the chair he had brought up earlier for this exact purpose. He’d been enjoying Kika and Esteban’s teamwork so much, the mixing and mingling of their voices and touches, that he’d forgotten Kika is here only to watch him get fucked.

He’s about to bring out the pout and start begging when Esteban's hands start lighting fire across his skin again.

“Sir, please.”

Esteban’s hands are all over him, running over his back and sides, caressing his stomach but avoiding Pierre’s hard dick. Esteban tuts derisively when Pierre shoves his hips forward, trying to get some contact.

“Thought you were going to be a good boy for me.” Esteban places his hand on the middle of Pierre’s back, his fingers light as they tickle over his skin.

Pierre nods again, ever desperate to please. “I’ve been so good, sir, please. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

“Suppose we can’t expect much from a slut like you,” Esteban muses, his hand trailing down Pierre’s back, slipping between his cheeks and pressing on the end of the plug. Pierre holds back a whimper, biting on his lip, clenching his hands. He wants to beg for more but he also wants to behave; he has to be good for Esteban to get what he wants. Esteban plays with the plug some more, pulling on the end and teasing him with it before letting it slip back inside Pierre.

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden, doll? I want to hear you.” Esteban reaches a hand around Pierre’s torso to grab his dick, jerking him off steadily. Pierre cries out loudly, hanging his head, his arms shaking to hold him up. It's very little but it's also too much. The onslaught of sensation after coasting by only on light touches, mixed with the still rising anticipation, is enough to have him on the edge in seconds.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m going to come, sir, please.”

Esteban chuckles a bit, “You’re not allowed to come until Kika says you can.”

Pierre can’t tell what Kika’s response is, too lost in the pleasure washing over him. He’s started fucking forward into Esteban’s hand, too far gone to stop, small pained sounds falling uninhibited from his mouth.

“You’re so good to me, Este baby, I feel so good, please just, fuck—“ He tries to move away from Esteban's hand, feeling his orgasm coil in the bottom of his stomach, closing his eyes as the heat threatens to take him over. “Kika please, let me— fuck, Esteban. I—“

Pierre cries out again, and just before he feels he is going to come he hears, “Go on, babe,” and then he’s releasing all over Esteban’s hand and the bed below him, pained sounds falling from his mouth when Esteban’s hand continues to move over his sensitive dick. He squirms to move out of his grasp but Esteban doesn’t let him, holding him tighter.

“It’s— huh— it’s too much. Fuck.”

Esteban's response is a dangerous thing, whispered right next to his ear. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, doll. Gonna fuck another out of you. D'you want that? Want to sit on my dick and ride me? Show Kika how pretty you are when taking my dick? I bet you look great stuffed full and with your thighs shaking. Imagine the sounds you’ll make, what a pretty show you'll be for Kika."

And Pierre is making more of those sounds now, cut-off whines, choked by the next sound rising from his throat. Esteban presses a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Let’s give you a little break, yeah?” Esteban says, taking his hands off Pierre. There is another pair of hands on him, cool to Pierre’s hot skin, tucking against his waist and rolling him onto his back. Pierre smiles up at Kika when he falls back into the pillows, closing his eyes when she pets his cheek.

“Do you need anything, babe? Some water maybe?” she asks.

Pierre loves that she's checking in on him. It’s the perfect balance to being roughed up by Esteban.

He shakes his head, gently grabbing her wrist and kissing the palm of her hand before turning to look at Esteban who is still partially dressed, his hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. Pierre licks his lips, eager for what’s going to come next, shifting a little on the bed to feel the plug inside him. Kika’s hand leaves his face, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving away.

Pierre watches as Esteban unbuttons his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders, glancing up at him. He looks almost shy when their eyes meet, some of his dominant persona fading away. Esteban had always been gentle with Pierre afterward, kissing him softly, offering quiet reassurance before they had to leave each other, always making sure Pierre knew he was cared for.

Once Esteban has fully undressed, he climbs up on the bed beside Pierre and cups his jaw with one hand, pulling their lips together. Pierre melts against him, pressing his hands against his chest and waist, elated to have Esteban again after so long.

They linger like that for a while, kissing mindlessly, simply for the sake of kissing and basking in each other’s presence.

It’s both everything Pierre had missed and something entirely new. It’s Esteban, yes, but in a way Pierre had never really had the chance to experience. It’s Esteban giggling into their kiss and tracing his skin, pulling him closer even when their fronts are already molded to each other.

Pierre lets himself sink into it all: the featherlight touches, Esteban’s rushed breathing, and the slide of their lips together. He only realizes he’s been grinding his hips against Esteban’s own when his movements are halted almost forcefully.

Esteban pulls back, and Pierre can see in his face, even before he speaks, that they’re back on track. “I want you to ride me, doll. Do you think you can do that?” he asks, looking for assurance in Pierre’s eyes.

“Yes, yeah, I wanna,” Pierre responds, breathless and eager, his words running into each other with how quickly he's trying to get them out.

Esteban smiles and kisses him again briefly, moving away to settle against the headboard. “Come on, on my lap.” He beckons him with a pat to his thigh, like you would a pet, and Pierre flushes as he crawls towards him.

Esteban stops him. “Ah, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Pierre whines, confused, stopping just shy of Esteban’s lap. He hates this little guessing game Esteban plays sometimes, preferring clear instructions. It’s cruel of him to make Pierre focus on anything other than getting what he needs, while looking pretty for Kika.

Esteban smiles and pets Pierre’s cheek lovingly, but when he speaks, it edges on mocking. “You’ve gotta take that plug out, baby.”

Pierre nods and leans in for another kiss, wanting reassurance. Esteban obliges briefly before guiding Pierre’s hand back, smoothing it over the curve of his backside. Pierre tries to balance himself with one hand on the mattress as he pulls out the plug, biting his lip as he pants, doing his best to follow instructions, even though the bed feels like water beneath him.

“Good job,” Esteban’s voice grows distant, almost disinterested, making Pierre shudder, caught between wanting to earn back his attention or protesting.

“Turn around for me, doll. There you go.” Esteban helps him turn, maneuvering him a bit onto his knees, his legs straddling Esteban’s thighs. “Yeah, facing Kika, just like that. Wouldn’t want her to miss out on how pretty you look.”

Pierre glances at Kika now, pristine as always, sitting at the foot of the bed, legs crossed as she watches intently. Her steady gaze makes Pierre blush a deep red, turning his head instinctively.

Esteban pulls him back, their hips meeting as Pierre whimpers from the contact, reveling in the warmth of Esteban against his bare skin. Esteban’s hands start at his hips, holding him close, then travel up his sides, exploring his skin. Pierre squirms as one hand teases his nipple while the other strokes the sensitive skin inside his thigh. Esteban hasn’t forgotten any of his weak spots.

Pierre glances at Kika again. Her intense gaze amplifies everything he’s feeling; if Esteban doesn’t take him soon, he might lose himself from the teasing alone.

“Sir— let me, please,” Pierre begs, almost delirious, needing more. He tries to stay focused — this is his chance to prove himself, to both of them, he can’t let himself falter now.

“Already falling apart, and we haven’t even started yet,” Esteban murmurs against his shoulder, his smile pressing into Pierre’s skin.

“Please.” Pierre’s voice sounds desperate even to his own ears, and he looks away from Kika’s face as he sees her smirk at his vulnerability.

“Alright, mon ange, we’re going to give you what you need.” Esteban tugs him gently, guiding him. “Sit up for me? There we go, good pet.” He helps Pierre position himself so he’s hovering just above him, and Pierre bites down on his lip when he feels Esteban’s readiness pressing against him.

Pierre sinks down slowly, bracing his hands on Esteban's thighs as he does, shuddering and hanging his head when he bottoms out. He leans back against Esteban slightly and moans at the stretch. It’s not that he hasn’t had a dick in his ass in years; it's that he hasn't had Esteban's dick inside him in years. It still feels as perfect as the first time. Esteban has always filled him up so well, right on the verge of being too much, making him feel proud of himself for being able to take it so well.

Esteban grabs Pierre’s jaw, his fingers pressing into his cheeks as he brings his line of sight back to Kika. Pierre keens at the suddenness of the motion. “I want you to look at Kika while you ride me, think you can do that?” Pierre nods his assent as best as he can with Esteban’s hand gripping his jaw while he shifts back, already trying to fuck himself.

Esteban holds him steady, his lips pressed behind Pierre's ear. “Alright, mon ange, show me you can be a good boy. Fuck yourself on my dick for us.”

It’s a crude show, he thinks, to see him chase his own pleasure so brazenly; the way he can’t find a grip on himself or anything around him, holding onto Esteban’s arm like it’d bring him any balance. He’s never been too careful with sex, always overeager and doing his best to fulfill his cravings.

This is no exception. Pierre sets a frantic pace from the get-go, bouncing eagerly on Esteban's cock, trying to make up for the years of having this need remain unsatisfied.

That was mistake number one. It doesn’t take long before his thighs are straining, and he’s falling forward, barely staying upright. He's too into this, enjoys the feeling of being fucked far too much to try to please anyone but himself. Greed is his fatal flaw, and Esteban doesn’t hesitate to point it out.

“Come on, if you’re gonna be a greedy bitch—" he doesn’t even sound winded as he speaks, "—I think you can do better than that,” Esteban chastises, and Pierre shakes his head, his eyes teary as he rocks himself down, gasping when Esteban grabs his hips and holds him there, his hold punishing when Pierre tries to grind back against him.

“What? You’re tired already? How disappointing. You get so weak for a dick in your ass that you can’t even show Kika how well you take it. What should we do about that then? Hm?"

Pierre really hates the constant questioning. Maybe next time he’ll ask to be gagged, see if that keeps Esteban's conversation at bay. He's here to get fucked, not to be quizzed on how he wants to get fucked. He tries to convey his frustration by shifting his hips some more, letting Esteban know that he doesn't care how; he just wants him.

It does the trick well enough, though Esteban sighs like he’s tired of him.

“Wanna get fucked so bad but you won't even work for it. Spoiled fucking slut is what you are,” one of Esteban’s hands lands between Pierre’s shoulder blades and pushes him down until his face is smushed against the mattress. The change in angle pushes Esteban's cock further inside him, and Pierre keens at the feeling, squirming under Esteban, who's kneeling, tall and proud, behind him. “Can you tell Kika how you feel while I fuck you, or will that be too hard for you, too?” Esteban doesn’t seem to be actually waiting for a response if the way he continues to manhandle him is anything to go by.

Pierre feels like things are starting to fall back into place, though he’s not entirely sure when anything went missing at all. Still, there's something just beyond his reach, close enough that he can taste it, right behind his teeth, but he can't sink his hands into it. Esteban is giving him everything he’s wanted — or everything he thought he wanted. And it's good. Amazing, even. It's bringing him to the edge of delirium, but he can't help but still crave for more.

Maybe if he could have this more often. Maybe if he didn’t have to miss it. Maybe if he could always have it. Maybe if Esteban wasn��t a novelty brought into his and Kika's bedroom for a couple of hours, only to leave again. Maybe if Esteban was a permanent fixture in their life. Maybe then he’d be satiated.

Esteban lifts his hips a little higher and starts to fuck him hard, driving his hips against his own with vigor; it’s all Pierre’s wanted for years now. He's white-knuckling the sheets, letting Esteban do whatever he wants to him, not caring to hide the pathetic sounds that are getting punched out of him with every thrust, sounds that lie somewhere between moans and cries.

Both Kika and Esteban stay quiet, and the backdrop of silence it creates makes the lewd noises E

[derailedinsert]

I've been thinking about the mind control device that wesker uses on jill in re5, can you write about him (or another villain) using that or a similar device to almost completely control them? Being able to completely brain off sounds very appealing right now haha

. 𖦹 Mind Control 🧠

unintentionally dom ! gn reader

power bottom ! wesker

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈[☣]┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

:: 🧬 | Albert Wesker 𓈒

• You're his doll, his plaything and his favorite toy.

• Wesker is not one to sexualize unnecessarily, he has more important things to focus on than "basic human needs".

• But, you're so pretty under his touch. On your knees for him in a moments notice, he can't help but take a liking to you.

• He tilts your head, gloved hand gently cupping your jaw as he observes you, eyes narrowed behind his shades. Poor thing you were, absolutely lost to your sense of self. Anything that went through your mind was at his command. No other concerns in the world but what he wanted of you, it was all too perfect to put to waste.

• Wesker wasn't lonely, especially with Excella around. He never had a need for company before, and Excella was a subject to him. Her foolish perception that they may be partners got on his nerves like no other. He did not need her, and he did not want her. He allowed her to breathe, to have a chance in this new life. And she had one too many thoughts of her own about it.

• With you, there was no worry about it. You had no conscience to battle, no opinions to refute. You were the perfect subject for him to leash along. There was no responsibility of him to care for you or your feelings, and it felt immensely freeing. You were a prime example of exactly what he had hoped for in this new world. The perfect specimen, with no need for others. Self sustaining, self reliant and submissive if commanded.

• Unbothered by the risk of Excella seeing you two, he gently guided your head towards his lap as he takes a seat at his control panels. "Undress me," he demanded. And to his delight, your small hands are quick to work at his belt. They don't wander, and there's no need for him to reciprocate. You're so perfect. Oh, so fascinating.

• As if you were engineered for it, you unzipped his body suit and let it fall off his shoulders naturally. His hand rested in your hair, petting you absent-mindedly. You try to reach for his gloves, but he slaps your hand away immediately. "No," his tone was surprisingly soft. He knows you'll obey, and there's no need to threaten.

• Your attention redirected to his open zipper, stopping just at his crotch. You reached behind him, unintentionally cupping his ass and causing him to flinch. You continued your task, pulling the black fabric past his hips and letting it pool at his legs.

• That single touch to his rear had Wesker reconsidering this entire thing. He rarely changed his mind, but he realized his vague orders might steer you in unwanted directions. But, he supposed he could just put a stop to this whenever. So, despite his hesitation, he let you proceed in removing his underwear.

• He hissed out once his cock greeted the chilled air of his home, his spare hand reaching behind him to hold onto the control panels for support. "Pleasure me," he stared down at you expectantly.

• Your hands suddenly gripping at his cock made his stomach flip, sucking air through his teeth. Without a word to stop you, you used both your hands to please him, focusing mostly on the tip. Logically, it would bring him the most pleasure. After all, your opinions were absent.

• Turns out, Wesker was incredibly quiet. Other than a few shaky breaths, if you were any amount of conscious, you probably would've thought you weren't pleasuring him at all. But, your controlled self knew otherwise. After awhile, his length twitched intensely in your hand, making his chest heave. He was clearly going to come soon. From such little treatment too.

• Your objective was to pleasure him, so, you sped up your pace.

• It wasn't long before he orgasmed, biting his cheek to keep himself silent as he shot his load over your gorgeous face. He let out a sigh of relief, knowing he could finally keep quiet without a fight.

• But your hand didn't stop.

• Wesker let out a whine, cock jerking again in your grasp. He hadn't asked you to stop, and your objective was still to pleasure him. So, with a pained expression crossing his features, you released one hand off his cock and instead pressed it firmly against his taint. You used the lubrication from his first orgasm to quicken your fist, teasing his balls with the palm of your hand while your fingers massaged him.

• Wesker suddenly couldn't find his words. You needed to stop, it wasn't an option. But, his legs instinctively spread in his chair, exposing himself to you. This wasn't what he'd asked for.

• Even his advanced brain was becoming fuzzy, every receptor in his body telling him to let this happen. He hadn't been touched by anyone in so long, how could he be so foolish in thinking he could keep himself composed?

• "Stop this at once!" He finally manages to groan out, and your hands retract almost immediately. So obedient, you were. Wesker finally took a deep breath, trying to compose himself as he eyed his weeping cock. He could easily come again.

• His gaze finally meets yours again, your expression a blank slate as you await your next command.

• With a defeated groan, Wesker tears his eyes away from you and raises a hand, "continue."

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 19 Chapter 19 | hunting ground⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow across your room. Despite the previous day's events, sleep had managed to steal you away for a few precious hours.

Classes had been cancelled for the top hero class and yourself—a decision made to allow the students time to process the close-call, something that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Unlike the rest of Class 1-A, who were given a much-needed day off to recover from the attack, you felt strangely restless.

You weren't one to sit idly by, to let fear dictate your actions. School was your cover, your carefully crafted facade, and a single missed day felt like a chink in your armor.

So, here you were, lacing up your shoes, a backpack slung over your shoulder.

Reaching for your shoes, you were about to slip them on when a soft voice called out from behind you. "____?"

Glancing back, you saw your mother standing in the kitchen doorway, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Sleep deprivation etched dark bags under her eyes, the strands of silver in her hair glinting amongst her frazzled hair.

"Yes?" you responded, your voice carefully neutral.

"Are you sure you want to go to school today?" Mei asked, her voice barely a whisper. "You could stay home and rest. I could make your favorite snacks; we could watch your favorite show..." her voice trailed off, then a small, sad smile tugged at her lips, "...Ugly Americans?"

You forced down a twitch in your eyebrow, clenching your fists to suppress the irritation that always flared at her smothering nature. In a flat, controlled tone, you replied, "I'm fine. Recovery Girl patched everyone up, remember? I'll be back after school."

Your response didn't seem to quell her anxieties. In a swift movement that surprised you, she rushed towards you. Her hands, trembling slightly, cupped your face. The gentle touch felt out of place, a stark contrast to her usual nervous energy.

"My baby," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. She pressed a flurry of small, hurried kisses all over your face, muttering the same phrase over and over again. "My baby. My baby. My baby. My baby. My baby. My baby...."

It was suffocating, this desperate clinginess that had always been a part of her.

With a sigh you knew this conversation was far from over. Gently, but firmly, you pushed her hands away, creating some much-needed space.

Mei was a frantic mess; her worries amplified a hundredfold since the villain attack.

You remembered how she'd burst into tears the moment you walked through the door the other day, clinging to you for hours as if afraid you might disappear again.

Dealing with the aftermath of the attack paled in comparison to handling your mother's smothering affection.

Even now, you could recall the relieved shock on everyone's faces at All Might's arrival. How the Symbol of Peace managed to defeat the hulking monstrosity known as 'Nomu' before U.A. reinforcements arrived.

The anger on Shigaraki's face as he had no choice but to retreat.

Lost in the whirlwind of recent events, your mother's voice, laced with renewed worry—and a bit of hope—cut through your thoughts. "____, are you absolutely sure you don't want to stay home? We can—"

"Mother, please," you interjected curtly, trying to mask your frustration. The stern tone seemed to have the desired effect. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and a frown etched itself onto her once-worried face.

"Of course, sweetie," she mumbled, her gaze drifting off sadly to the side. "See you later, then. Have a good day at school." With a defeated sigh, she shuffled towards the kitchen. You watch her go, noting the slump of her shoulders—a visual testament to her worries.

Straightening your tie, a gesture more for your own reassurance than anything else, you made a beeline for the door. As you step outside, you're greeted by the crisp morning air, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside.

With one last glance back at the house, you shut the door behind you and head towards school, ready to face the day and whatever challenges it might bring.

The early morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dewdrops clinging to the grass. A lone bird chirped a cheerful melody, oblivious to the chaos that had unfolded just hours ago.

You paused for a moment, the sound grating on your nerves. Cheerfulness felt like a slap in the face after the raw power and adrenaline rush of the previous day.

Taking a deep breath, you allowed your hands to swing idly by your side. There was no point in rushing to school. The cancellation gave you a rare window of freedom, a chance to operate outside the constraints of your carefully constructed student persona.

You decided to take a detour, your steps falling into a familiar rhythm as you meandered through the quiet streets.

The suburban landscape stretched out before you—a monotonous sprawl of identical houses and neatly trimmed lawns. Each picture-perfect scene made your stomach churn.

It was all so... bland, so utterly devoid of the raw energy that fueled your true self.

Here, in this world of stifling normalcy, you were ____, the quiet transfer student. Back in your past life, however, you were one of the lead Devil hunters—thriving in the chaotic dance between humans and devils.

A ghost of a smile played on your lips as memories flooded your mind. The thrill of the hunt, the strategic battles, the intoxicating scent of blood and fear in the air—everything felt so vivid, so alive compared to the suffocating monotony of your current life.

You yearned for the thrill of a real challenge, for the intellectual dance of manipulating devils and humans alike.

Here, your power felt like a caged beast, a constant hum just beneath the surface. You missed the way it pulsed with a life of its own, the way it fueled your every move in the devil hunter world.

A sharp sigh escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the quiet morning air.

This carefully constructed life felt like a prison—a gilded cage that held you back from your true purpose.

As your mind drifted further into the past, your body went on autopilot, your feet carrying you along the familiar route.

You barely registered the passing scenery, your senses numbed by the stifling normalcy around you.

The chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves—all distant noise filtered through a hazy fog. You were no longer on the suburban street, but back in the stark, blood-soaked warehouse where your final showdown with Denji had taken place.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, an acrid scent that invaded your senses. Denji, his once-vibrant golden-brown eyes clouded with tears, stood a few feet away. His voice, raw with desperate pleading, tore through the haze clouding your memories.

"Makima... please," he choked out, tears tracing muddy tracks down his dirt-streaked cheeks. "Stop this. We don't have to destroy everything... We don't have to do this."

With a shaky breath, you lunged at him, your nails extending into long, wicked claws. The movement sent a jolt of searing pain through your entire being, a stark reminder of the countless wounds you'd sustained in the fight. A metallic spray erupted as your claws tore through the air, missing Denji by a hair's breadth.

"Out of my way, Chainsaw Dog!" you rasped, your voice a harsh croak strained by exertion and internal bleeding. Your vision blurred slightly at the edges, the world tilting on its axis. Blood dribbled down your chin, painting a gruesome scene. The feral glint in your eyes intensified, a terrifying contrast to your pale, blood-streaked face.

Denji flinched back at the force of your words, but his desperate pleas didn't cease. "Makima, please listen to yourself! This isn't you! We can fix this, together!"

A guttural, humorless laugh, laced with a chilling edge, escaped your lips. "Fix it? Fix what, Denji? This world teeming with these... these weak, pathetic excuses for life?" You gestured around the warehouse with a dismissive flick of your bloodied hand. "Humans. All of them. They scurry about, consuming, polluting, destroying everything in their path. Like... like mindless vermin!"

Your voice rose in a crescendo, each word dripping with contempt. "And you, Chainsaw Dog, you're no different! Just another pawn, another cog in their malfunctioning machine! You think you understand me? You, with your fleeting human emotions, your loyalty to a species that deserves nothing but oblivion?"

A deranged glint flickered in your eyes. "All I ever wanted... all I ever craved was a semblance of normalcy. A family. A connection that transcended this... this curse I bear!" You slammed your fist against the concrete floor, the impact sending tremors through your already ravaged body.

"But do you see, Denji? I, the Control Devil, am incapable of such things! True connection, true love... it's beyond my grasp. All I can inspire is fear, obedience... a mockery of the very thing I yearn for!"

Suddenly, a surge of adrenaline, fueled by desperation and a twisted sense of affection, coursed through your veins. You lunged at Denji again, this time with a renewed ferocity. Your claw found its mark, tearing a bloody furrow across his cheek.

As he stumbled back, clutching his wound, a twisted grin, laced with madness, split your face. You raised your other hand, smeared with blood from your assault, and slowly dragged it across your tongue, savoring the metallic tang. Your eyes blazed with a feverish intensity.

Denji stared at you, his face a mask of pain and confusion. But beneath the hurt, you saw a flicker of something else—a stubborn refusal to believe your twisted words. He shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, "No... she doesn't mean that..."

Denji's blind faith, however pathetic it seemed from your distorted perspective, only fueled your manic rant. "Don't lie to yourself, Denji! This world... this cycle of violence and destruction... it has to end! And who better to usher in that glorious oblivion than me?" You ignored the protests spilling from his lips, your focus solely on the warped dream taking root in your mind.

A world cleansed of humanity, a world where only Pochita and you remained. A twisted utopia where the Control Devil could finally experience the semblance of a family it craved.

Denji's voice, raw with emotion, cracked through the haze of your madness. "Makima," he choked out, his voice thick with unshed tears. "There's still good in you... I know it. Don't throw it all away!"

"You need to know you place, pet!" You hissed. Snarling with a feral fury, you lunged towards Denji once again. But this time, fueled by a desperate hope, he reacted with inhuman speed. In a blur of motion, Denji dodged your attack, his chainsaw arm extending with a sickening whir. He appeared before you in a blink, his face etched with a heartbreaking struggle.

You found yourself a hair's breadth from him, the metallic tang of his blood filling your nostrils. You could almost feel the warmth of his tears on your cheek, a stark contrast to the chilling emptiness that consumed you. 

Your breath hitched, a guttural rasp escaping your lips. A metallic tang blossomed in your mouth as a fresh wave of blood dribbled down your chin. You looked down slowly, your vision blurring at the edges. Denji's hand, encased in his chainsaw housing, protruded from your chest, the engine whirring ominously.

The pain was agonizing, a white-hot inferno that threatened to consume you. Yet, it was overpowered by a sudden surge of disbelief. You clawed at Denji's arm, your nails scraping uselessly against the metal.

"No..." you rasped, your voice failing. "This can't be... I... we were supposed to..." The world tilted on its axis. Your dream of a twisted utopia crumbled before your eyes.

Denji mirrored your fall, dropping to his knees with a heavy thud, he pulled his arm away, your heart in hand. His face contorted in anguish, a whimper escaping his lips. "Makima..." he whimpered, his voice barely a whisper.

The world dissolved into an inky blackness, punctuated by flashes of your life—a kaleidoscope of memories swirling beyond your grasp. The last thing you saw, etched into your fading consciousness, was Denji's face hovering above you, his blonde hair haloed by the warehouse's single, flickering light. His tear-streaked eyes reflected a deep, agonizing sorrow, his lips repeating your name in a heartbreaking murmur: "Makima... Makima..."

Then, silence.

Jerked back to the present by the jarring silence, you realized you were way too early. The imposing gates of U.A. High loomed before you, bathed in the golden hues of sunrise.

Unlike the usual bustling mornings, only a handful of students dotted the entrance, their hurried movements amplifying the quiet.

The memory of Makima's final moments faded, replaced by the dull ache of loss and the weight of your current deception.

A deep, melancholic sigh escaped your lips,  the sound echoing in the stillness. "Pochita," you murmured, the name a bittersweet echo of a life forever lost.

For a fleeting moment, you succumbed to a bittersweet fantasy—a world where Pochita, the embodiment of your only solace, remained by your side.

With a practiced flick of your wrist, you adjusted the strap of your backpack, pushing down the yearning for your old life. A mask of indifference descended, cloaking your true feelings.

The yearning for your past might linger, but your true purpose remained clear: to manipulate everything and watch it all burn.

The quiet hum of anticipation thrummed within you as you reached your classroom. Early as you were, the room was deserted, bathed in the soft glow of morning light streaming through the windows. It provided a perfect opportunity to gather yourself, the mask of normalcy settling comfortably in place.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Vlad King, your homeroom teacher, strode in. He stopped short, surprised to see you seated at your desk, a lone figure amidst the empty chairs. His usual boisterous demeanor softened slightly as he quirked an eyebrow.

"Akuma-san," he started in a surprisingly gentle voice, "Shouldn't you be home after yesterday's attack? Recovery Girl patched everyone up, but rest is important after such a traumatic experience."

You seized the opportunity, feigning a tremor in your voice, you cast your eyes down. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. "I-I just... couldn't stay home, Sensei," you stammered, your voice thick with a manufactured tremor. "The whole thing... it was terrifying. I kept seeing Shigaraki's grin, and what if they come back? What if they..." Your voice cracked, and a single, well-timed tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down your cheek.

Vlad King's concern deepened. He sighed, a weary sound before lumbering towards your desk, his bulky frame surprisingly graceful for its size. He knelt before you, his scarred face etched with unexpected empathy.

You sniffling slightly, relishing the momentary lapse in his usual stoicism. He then placed a calloused hand on your shoulder, the touch surprisingly gentle.

"It's okay to be scared, kid," he rumbled, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Yesterday was a close call. You did well, though. Recovery Girl told me about your... quick thinking with Eraserhead. Apparently, the EMTs at the hospital were impressed with the bandaging technique. The other students mentioned it was you who helped."

You blinked, feigning surprise. "Me? But, Kan-sensei I just..." You trailed off, allowing him to fill in the blanks.

"Don't downplay your actions, Akuma-san," Vlad said, his voice firm but laced with a hint of respect. "Your presence of mind bought us precious time. Recovery Girl could use an extra hand today. Why don't you head down there and see if there's anything you can do to help?"

Internally, you smirked. This was perfect.

You'd not only managed to manipulate Vlad King's concern, but also establish yourself as a student with keen observation skills—a pawn with potential in this twisted game you were playing. "Of course, Sensei," you replied meekly, hiding your true motives under a mask of obedience.

☆

☆

The dismissal from Recovery Girl's office brought a satisfied smirk to your lips.

Recovery Girl, a sweet old lady with a surprisingly sharp wit, had been surprisingly easy to charm.

Your attentiveness and eagerness to help with Eraserhead's recovery had undoubtedly softened her up.

It was fascinating, you had to admit, getting a glimpse into the world of hero support, the unseen heroes who kept the flashy fighters on the front lines in tip-top shape.

As you crunched on a blue-raspberry lollipop—a parting gift from the kind old healer—you approached the doorway of Class 1-B. The usual boisterous energy was muted, replaced by a tense silence.

You shrugged it off, attributing it to the events of the previous day.  Pushing open the door, lollipop stick held nonchalantly between your teeth, you were met with an unexpected sight. 

The moment you stepped inside, the entire class, faces etched with a mixture of relief and tearful joy, erupted in a chorus of voices. "Akuma-san!" they cried, their voices filled with a desperate hope you hadn't anticipated. Tears welled up in their eyes, some even sobbing uncontrollably.

Before you could react, you were engulfed in a wave of bodies.

Komori, Fukidashi, and even the usually stoic Kodai clung to you desperately, their arms wrapped around any part of you they could reach. A cacophony of worried questions and tearful pronouncements filled the air.

"President! We thought you were hurt!"

"Yeah, we were so worried! We saw the news reports, all that destruction..."

"You could have died!"

"You're not allowed out of the room anymore!"

"President, please don't ever scare us like that again!"

The crowded room thrummed with a desperate energy, the sound of their fear and relief creating a suffocating atmosphere.

Lost in the whirlwind of limbs and muffled cries, you struggled to breathe. Just as you were on the verge of snapping, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Everyone, calm down!" shouted Kendo, her voice laced with a stern authority. Acting with surprising efficiency, the fiery vice president managed to pry your classmates off you one by one.

They stumbled back, wiping their tears and sniffling, their eyes red-rimmed but holding a glimmer of relief.

You stood there, momentarily speechless, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure. The unexpected display of affection was overwhelming.

"I appreciate you all for your concerns, everyone," you said gently, raising your hands in a placating gesture. "I'm alright, really. Recovery Girl did a fantastic job patching me up."

The classroom remained silent, their gazes still fixed on you with a mixture of concern and lingering fear. It seemed calming these overly emotional classmates would be another challenge to add to your ever-growing list. It's bad enough you have to deal with it from your mother, but classmates as well??

Stifling a sigh, you forced a reassuring smile as you finally reached your desk.

With practiced ease, you weaved an abridged version of your "heroic deeds," placating their worries with a carefully crafted tale of narrowly escaping the villain attack.

You kept it vague, focusing on the emotional aspects—the fear, the adrenaline, the close call. It was enough to quell their immediate anxieties, leaving them with a sense of awe towards their mysterious classmate, Akuma-san.

Just as the last sniffle subsided, Vlad King entered the classroom, his flamboyant entrance momentarily distracting everyone. Wasting no time, he launched into the day's hero curriculum.

The first order of business was a somber announcement regarding the aftermath of the USJ attack. He announced the upcoming security upgrades that would be implemented to prevent similar situations from arising.

A ripple of worried glances swept through the class, a few classmates directing nervous looks towards you. You schooled your features, maintaining a mask of stoicism that hid the amusement bubbling beneath the surface.

After the somber news, Vlad King's demeanor shifted dramatically. A harsh, competitive grin spread across his face as he announced the upcoming Sports Festival. "Now, listen up!" he boomed, his voice echoing in the classroom. "This year's festival is more important than ever! We've all seen the news reports. Class 1-A is getting all the praise, but that's about to change! This is your chance, Class 1-B, to show those 1-A students what you're made of!"

His words ignited a spark of excitement in the room. Cheeks flushed with determination, your classmates exchanged determined glances. This unexpected turn of events played perfectly into your hands. Vlad King's competitive spirit was a flame you could easily fan, molding it into a weapon to fuel your own agenda.

But you wouldn't settle for mere excitement. Making eye contact with Vlad King, you subtly unleashed a sliver of your power. It was a small push, building upon the physical touch initiated earlier that morning, allowing for a faster connection. A surge of competitive zeal washed over Vlad King, twisting his already intense grin into a ferocious snarl.

"And there's more!" he roared, his voice tinged with a new level of fervor. "This year, the stakes are higher than ever! Thanks to Principal Nezu's generosity, there's a special opportunity for exceptional performers. Based on their performance in the Sports Festival, the top students will be offered the opportunity to transfer... to Class 1-A!"

A collective gasp rippled through the room. The air crackled with newfound determination. This wasn't just about proving themselves to Class 1-A anymore; it was about a golden ticket, a chance to usurp one of their coveted spots.

As the details of the Sports Festival unfolded, a plan began to take shape in your mind.

This inter-class competition wouldn't just be about showcasing your classmates' abilities; it would also be your personal hunting ground.

Who knows what fun is in store for you? 

A/N: Not much going on this chapter just wantd to update/give a litte filler. Ngl, im kinda getting excited for the sports festival arc hehehe, can't wait to see how my mind is gonna wind up these delulu-moments

[vespaer77]

I'd like to tell you a story...

... about my first Tav, Shayla Moonsong.

She is a Zariel tiefling, and a College of Lore Bard, and while she wasn't my first Tav, she was the first one to finish the game. I had romanced Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion in early access, so I focused on her because I was anxious to try a new romance, Halsin. However, because she was created just after full release, her save file was horrifically bugged. I got the cut scenes for Halsin that allowed me to progress his companion quest and cure Moonhaven of the shadow curse, but after that I could get no further dialogue from him at all, even in camp. I was playing with a party limit mod by the time he joined my party, so I never needed to worry about dismissing him from my party, but I did occasionally have difficulty with him following the party. I had to run around controlling him a lot. The only scene I ever got with him once he joined me was specifically his sex scene, after I did the love test at the circus in Act 3. I knew literally nothing about him, lol, so I had to google the answers.

But that was the thing. I knew… nothing about this guy. He was just some hot elf my bard boned, I had zero investment in him other than that. And it became a head canon for me about her - she was a typical bard, slutting her way to the Gate. She slept with the Emperor, she had a foursome with the drow twins and Halsin, and she absolutely played Haarlep's game to get his pass code. And while I'd wished, at the time, I could have had the additional enrichment of a poignant, heartfelt romance, I did enjoy exploring a character that was more free with her sexuality. As a result, though, I'd ended up "saving myself" for Halsin, because I knew his romance would (or in my case should but didn't) open up very late in the game. And I'd shot down all of the other companions fairly quickly.

Including Gale.

Especially Gale.

He was still bugged at the time, and his… overly amorous nature, lol, was widely known to anyone who'd spent more than ten minutes on the internet. So I ignored a lot of opportunities to know him better. And at the time, he was honestly my least favorite character. Particularly because I truly didn't enjoy him in early access. I genuinely found him offputting and way too over the top, and subsequently much of his narrative flew straight over my head.

Like a Boeing 777.

But let's be honest. Because of the nature of his story, and the way he seems to compartmentalize his trauma as devotion, and because of the mask of charm and confidence he wears to convince your character of his usefulness, and the way he tempers his emotions so he doesn't upset the orb, all of these things… the complexity of his narrative is super duper subtle. Or at least to me it was. I was the complete dumb dumb that didn't pick it up from context like we were supposed to.

Until I played my bard, Shayla. The first one to get through Act 3.

I had saved the culmination of Gale's quest in Sorcerous Sundries til nearly the end. Just before all the stuff with the foundry and Gortash. At the time, he was still a checklist item, a box to mark off on my road to the final boss.

So I went into it feeling like this man was probably pretty fed up with me, lol. And then he read the Annals of Karsus and I realized right then just how much I'd taken this character for granted. Because everything about him, his entire personality, shifted right there, and he became… someone else. And everyone else in my party noticed it too. The choice of responses I was given was crafted in a way that made me feel like the writers very much wanted me to notice a change had taken place within Gale. And then I picked a response that was honestly a touch unkind. I don't remember what I said to him, but…

He yelled at me.

"She left me to die!" he said. I remember that part.

And when the camera panned back to me and the party, we were all wide eyed and reared away from him in shock and disbelief that this charming, confident, gregarious, and benign creature was suddenly so… dark. And it was at that moment that a light switch was flipped. The missing puzzle piece was found and snapped into place. Suddenly I understood everything I'd missed up to that point, and it was more than just an "ah hah!" moment. It was an, "Oh my god…" moment. He hadn't become someone else.

We were seeing who he truly was for the first time.

His mask had slipped. Cracked beneath strain. He'd been pushed to a breaking point.

Naturally, because he's Gale, he recovered quickly. But it was too late. I saw him. And then two things happened. I fell in love with him. Instantly. But then I also realized the game was almost over. His romance opportunity had come and gone, there wouldn't be a "confess your love at the last minute" option. And of course his fate at the end of the game was not so kind to my bard either.

I've had big feelings about it ever since.

And then the Hugs mod came out, which only served to further poke my great big ouchy feelings.

I've lived in head canon land for a while now when it comes to Shayla Moonsong. In my head canon, he did end up taking her advice, he did pick an outcome that didn't involve using the Crown of Karsus or the Karsite Orb, and in no way did he become a pulverized cloud of stardust. He ended the game living peacefully in Waterdeep, giving Tara belly rubs and ushering in the next generation of wizards without grooming them for a lifetime of suffering.

But that leaves Shayla herself and her big, unresolved feelings. Feelings that were never processed or acknowledged, as the time was never right between her relationship status with Halsin and the fate of the world resting on her shoulders.

So, what is a bard to do when she falls in love, but it's too late?

Nothing small, that's for sure. And it will probably involve singing.

(I'm planning on maybe two to three chapters for this story, in which she very much makes things worse before they get better, lol. She's still learning. But it's definitely gonna end with some light cunnilingus and good, heavy railing either on a kitchen counter or against a bookshelf. I haven't decided yet. I do hope, if you do decide to read this humble beginning, that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And also please excuse my ill attempts at self-effacing meta humor.)

Pairing: Gale / named fem!Tav bard Rating: Smut is imminent (once we get through the foreplay… er, mutual pining) Word count: 4790

Read the story HERE or under the cut

Chapter One: The Wizard, The Real One

"Is there a loan shark in the audience or something?" Jory asked.

"Hmm?" Nelsyn replied, but she didn't look up from her lines. He supposed that was fair. She was busy letting Sara fix the adhesive on the curly teal wig that sat between her horns, and Jory knew as well as anyone on cast that nothing good came from troubling the crew. He let his heavy bear pelt slip from his shoulders as he sat down in the empty chair next to her.

"She's been there all night," he told his friend as he nodded toward the entryway to stage right. "Boss lady. We've been touring this show for months. We could all do it in our sleep, she knows that. Never seen her hover like this."

And there was no reason for it. "The Fall of the Absolute" was a roaring success. The production was Shayla Moonsong's crowning achievement, a media darling, and the current obsession of a whole continent. She'd catalogued volumes of stellar, five-star reviews thus far, and was selling out box offices everywhere she went. The show was the hottest new thing since "Volo's Guide to Sex in the Elemental Planes."

But it wasn't her biggest accomplishment. It wasn't what she was truly known for.

She was the Hero of Baldur's Gate.

She faced the illithid Netherbrain herself, and won.

And the tale they were telling in front of all those people was her story.

Heavens knew the winsome bard had faced far greater perils than watching a chapter of her life play out on a stage.

And yet there she stood, on this most unremarkable of nights, leaning just inside the door frame where she could observe without obstructing. Where she could scan the audience like a scrying eye, searching for… something. Normally she'd be flitting about like a cloud of gnats directing the cast and crew, answering questions, giving orders, helping the caterer, filling water jugs, finding toilet paper, running errands, meeting VIPs. Trying not to go crazy. But not tonight. Tonight she stood very still, chewing her thumbnail and unconsciously flicking the tip of her tail over and over, hard to the left.

And Jory remembered what Nelsyn had said about what it meant when tieflings flicked their tail to the left.

She was clearly nervous about something.

"Well, we're about to do the big emotional number," Nelsyn finally told him, closing the cover of her script while Sara gave her wig a good yank to test the glue. "It's the one all the teenage girls are sobbing over their sketch pads for right now."

She stopped to take a sip of water when Sara bent to pick up her cosmetics case. The girl made a gesture to Jory to give up his seat, and he tripped over his own feet unfolding himself to stand up. Once again he was reminded why he was cast as the big druid, Halsin. Shayla had told him once that while he wasn't quite as tall as the real thing… he was close. He wondered how easily the boss lady's former lover would have fit into that chair.

"This is our first time in Waterdeep," Nelsyn continued, trying her best not to move her lips while Sara applied a fresh coat of pink stain. "She probably just wants to see how it gets received. She doesn't really get to just sit out there and watch, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Could be it," Sara told them both, bunching her eyebrows and concentrating on keeping her hand steady. "Part of it, anyway. That is her favorite character out there, singing his heart out about the bomb in his chest."

"Her favorite character? The wizard?"

"Someone else got a bomb?"

"Please. Everyone knows I'm her favorite character."

"Listen," she replied as she wiped the applicator clean with a kerchief, "you're a good looking kid, and no one hates watching you take your clothes off out there." Nelsyn snorted, but they both ignored her. "A healthy percentage of ticket sales is probably yours, no one's arguing that. But that's not enough for you to game the win."

"Game the w- what?" Jory laughed, his oiled obliques glistening as he pulled the bear pelt back over his shoulders. "Look, I'm not trying to make it a competition or anything, okay? You brought it up. But I literally play an archdruid who carves ducks, sings to squirrels, and adopts orphans. Plus? He looks like this." He swept his hands grandly over his abdomen, flexing muscles most people had only seen in paintings or medical textbooks. "And did I mention he's also her boyfriend?"

"Her ex-boyfriend," Sara corrected him, pointing at Nelsyn as she spoke. "Have you even listened to the song she's getting ready to sing? You know. The one about love? And sacrifice?" She shifted her weight as an intern sidled past her to tidy the table, refill their drinks, and bag up the trash. "And don't tell me you haven't looked at Erik with both of your eyeballs. We've all seen him. The man has eyelashes as long as your forearm. And the biggest, saddest, wettest brown eyes on the face of this planet. He's like a baby cow, okay? I'm just saying." She stood to let the intern past her again, and bent to drag her cosmetics case out of the way. "This is the man she cast to play the lead in the big romantic climax of the whole show. When the main character realizes she's in love and it's too late. She's managed to capture," she pinched her fingers in front of her face, "the very essence of what it means to have sad children mooning over this show for years to come, okay? The baby cow is a cash cow. And he is clearly her favorite character."

"I think the vampire is her favorite character," the intern said, unprompted, as she reached to help Nelsyn out of her seat. "He's everyone's favorite character."

"You're all wrong," Nelsyn told them as she sloughed her way out of her robe with great theatrical flair. The intern caught it before it hit the floor, just as she'd done so many times before. Nelsyn stood with her hands on her hips and a gallant curve to her tail, casting her eyes toward the rafters and beaming a heavily pink-stained smile, resplendent in her artificially distressed leather armor blotted with thick fake blood.

"I'm her favorite character," she said, glowing with certainty. "And it should be obvious. I'm her! Now, stand back and watch while I go make a bunch of little girls cry!" And with that, she grinned devilishly and pranced toward the stage.

But once she was gone, the intern leaned forward and beckoned. Jory found himself instinctually drawn to listen.

"Well, you wanna know what I heard?" she whispered, and her eyes landed on Shayla for only just a moment. Jory nodded out of reflex. "I heard a rumor that someone in the orchestra pit overheard the boss lady telling someone in the box office that there was going to be a special guest tonight."

"What. Like, family?" Jory asked. "I thought she was an orphan."

"Could be anyone," Sara answered him from where she stood, combing through a wig hanging on the wall. "Philanthropist, politician. Who knows.

"Or," the intern hissed, leaning in even closer, "it could be one of them."

"One of who?"

"You know. Them. Thems what was with her, when all this went down."

"Like… like one of the actual…?"

"Don't you two have anything better to do than -"

"Wait. We're in Waterdeep," Jory breathed. He snatched up Nelsyn's script and started thumbing through it, fanning the pages and blowing a strand of hair across his nose. "Isn't… isn't the wizard…?"

Sara dropped her comb to her side and opened her mouth, but stopped and blinked at him instead. A thoughtful look crept across her face. She nodded her head in defeat.

"The wizard's from Waterdeep."

Then, as one, they all turned to look at Shayla where she stood at stage right, still as a statue.

And the music began to swell. The strings stirred the air with sounds as soft and sweet as sunset. The woodwinds sang a shrill crescendo as Erik began to make his famous climb.

And Nelsyn began to sing her famous song.

Before she disappeared beyond the narrow view from stage right, Jory watched her as she raised her arm to reach for him.

The wizard.

And her voice rang out so high and so clear, so heavy with every loss that Shayla Moonsong had ever suffered, with every plea that ever twisted her heart in bitter knots. With every word that ever fell from the mighty pen of their beloved playwright.

Who stood now with her hand at her throat. It bobbed once when she swallowed. Her lips parted and she drew a breath, and a hush fell over the crowd. She settled in to listen with the rest of them.

And her tail flicked once more to the left.

I know I've been unkind to you And I've pushed you way too far And I know in ignorance I forced you To reveal the man you are And I know I've left you with nothing to lose And even less to gain And though I know you owe me nothing Please don't give in to pain

Erik's silhouette was emblazoned across the long, velvet curtain hanging behind the hideously decorated staircase he was climbing. His movements were eery and real, despite their paltry attempts to pantomime a grisly memory that none of them had ever lived. Each step was measured and dreamlike and perfect, like a person caught in a trance or a dead man called home to his rest by a spectral light.

Or in this case, a massive papier mache facsimile of a netherbrain hung from a scaffold over the stage.

Please, Please don't do this I'm begging you not to go Please, Please don't do this There's something you need to know What can I do to make you wait Convince a goddess to change your fate Please tell me that it's not too late There's something I didn't say…

"It can't be him, though. Can it?" Jory asked. "Didn't he, like," he pointed a finger toward the stage, "explode?"

"Oh, no. It's just a story, mate," came a voice from behind them. It was Velanthyr, the elf who played Astarion. They rounded the table and perched themself on the corner, placing their white wig beside them as they took a bite from an apple. "She's embellished tons of stuff. For emotional impact. They all do it."

I should have loved you since I met you I should have loved you all along

"That bard she played? In the first act?"

"Yeah?"

"She ain't really dead either."

"Seriously?"

I should have told you that I love you Instead of hiding behind a song

"My cousin met her. Said he saw her play someplace they had dinner."

"No shit?"

"It's true. She teaches music in Baldur's Gate."

Is there nothing left that I can do But fall to my knees and pray

"So what's with her, anyway?" Velanthyr asked, pointing their apple at Shayla while they wiped the juice from their lips with their other hand.

The tip of her tail flicked again, and slowly she wrapped her arms around her middle.

To any god or any devil Who'd keep you from walking away

"She's been acting weird all night," they said.

"S'what we were just talking about."

Please, Please don't do this! Turn around! This isn't right!

"We think the wizard might be out there," the intern told them. "The real one."

"Oh no," the elf laughed.

Please, Please don't do this! Please, I'm begging you to fight!

"Hope he has a sense of humor. It's about to get weird!"

"Weird?!" Sara growled at them, flinging her comb about.

Forget your fickle god's desire I'd cross the oceans, I'd walk through fire I'd conquer all the Hells entire For you And yes, I know you're tired

"The man is getting ready to watch himself die! And I'm sure I don't need to remind you his death is self-inflicted! If there's a chance that any of this is real? That the trauma this man survived is on display? You all need to show a little respect." She shook her head and turned back to her wig. "Shut up and let her listen."

Sara's words may have stung him, but Jory knew she was right. So he obeyed her, and he listened. And for the first time he truly heard the fragile warble of desperate heartache that Nelsyn had worked so hard to craft through her voice.

Come back to me and take your rest Indulge one overdue caress I'll steal the sorrow from your chest And confess, I will confess

But he didn't just uncover a new appreciation for his friend and her level of skill. There was more to it than that. There was a depth to this scene that he'd been missing before now.

There was a meaning. One that wasn't meant for the whole world.

It was only meant for one man.

He could sense it in the vibrant tension bound between Shayla Moonsong's shoulder blades.

And then Nelsyn grew quiet. Everything got quiet. The music made a subtle shift to something low and dulcet, but tense, like a string pulled too tight without snapping. Jory found his feet had led him to stand at Shayla's shoulder. He could hear her breathing through her teeth and he felt compelled to reach out and take her hand.

She took hold of it like a lifeline.

You're everything to me and more You're all that I've been fighting for You're more than just an end to war…

Nelsyn paused after that last note. It was important to the narrative, it was the whole point behind the wizard's story. But her longing would go deliciously unrequited, and would inspire a veritable deluge of creativity from fandom communities everywhere.

Shayla squeezed Jory's hand, squeezed her eyelids firmly shut. She held her breath and Jory could see Erik had reached the top of the rise. There he stood, a straight, unyielding figure gazing off into the liminal distance, resolute.

And he would never turn around.

It wouldn't be long. Any moment.

Nelsyn sang her penultimate line.

And I would give my life for yours…

She held the word so long it nearly sank into Jory's skin. It sent a wave goosebumps to crest over every inch of his body. The orchestra wove their way through their final, sweeping refrain, and the conductor brought them to a close on a plaintive harmony between a flute and an oboe.

And then the light collapsed.

It shrank to a small, pale circle that drew its stark and shining focus on a razor-slim shadow cast against the curtain.

In the shape of a dagger.

Erik lifted it high and turned its point toward his heart.

"Gods preserve me," Shayla mumbled to herself. It was the only sound Jory could hear aside from the sniffs and sniffles of the audience. Collectively they teetered at the edges of their seats, enthralled by a beautiful, mournful man who was counting the final seconds of his life with undaunted stoicism and courage.

Nelsyn could've whispered her final line if she wanted to, but instead it burst from her as a scream.

"Don't do this!!!"

Jory felt it thrum like a shockwave within his own chest, and beside him Shayla flinched. She squeezed his hand even harder.

"Just tell me when it's over," she said to him. And then suddenly there was a flurry of activity.

He took a step back and yanked her away from the door when a small flock of technicians flew in to crowd the space they left behind.

Up high, far in the corner, Jory saw the dagger move against the curtain. And all of the good people of Waterdeep gasped when they watched the blade meet its mark.

"Fire in the hole," a technician murmured beside him, and the spotlight on the curtain went black.

Then a pair of spells were cast that bathed the audience in a blinding aurora. It blazed with ribbons of vivid blues and purples and greens, speckled with myriad glittering white stars.

And an arrow of roaring thunder was launched far overhead. It detonated with such a resounding boom that it shook everything, even the floor boards beneath Jory's feet. It rattled seats and drinking vessels, it toppled music stands, and it made Erik's staircase sway alarmingly as it was wheeled backstage, with him still riding precariously at its top.

Shayla Moonsong's face fell into her hands.

"Go on," Erik sang as he danced his way down the stairs. "Tell me how devastating I was. Don't hold back. Tell me everything."

"You were spectacular, my love!" Velanthyr assured him as they ran to greet him, cradling his face in their hands and kissing him sweetly. "You always are."

"Were they weeping?" he asked his lover, nuzzling their face with his own. "The lights are so bright, I can never see."

"They were drowning in their tears, darling. Drowning."

"Is everything alright?" Sara asked as she approached on her tiptoes, reaching for Shayla's arm. Velanthyr's wig drooped at her side, forgotten. "What can I do?"

"I can't even look," Shayla whimpered through the palms that smothered her face.

"Oh honey," Sara cooed as she pulled the woman closer. And in a blessed act of mercy, she asked the question that no one wanted to ask, but someone needed to. Long before now, before this critical point had been breached.

"He's out there, isn't he?"

"I think I've made a huge mistake." Shayla slid her fingertips down to press against her lips, unable to form any other words. She could only shake her head, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Do you want us to look? See if we can see him?"

"I don't think I wanna know."

"Where is he seated?"

"E6."

"Oh." Sara briefly grimaced at Jory, but didn't stop rubbing circles across Shayla's back. "Front and center. Of course."

"Yep." The way her lips popped at the end of the word only served to emphasize how mortified she was. "Wouldn't want him to miss anything."

"Well, of course not. He's your guest," Sara replied, jerking her chin in a way that suggested Jory had been volunteered for reconnaissance.

"Oh gods!" Shayla raked her claws past her horns to twist them into her hair. "I even told him he could invite his mother!"

"Well that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do, one would think."

Jory understood his assignment. He sauntered away but paused at the door frame. The show wasn't over yet. When the technicians finished collecting their gear, they scrambled off to safely stow their rockets and retrieve the set pieces for the final scenes. They were dragging the staircase away from the main thoroughfare when Corinne, the woman who played the narrator, whipped past them.

"Coming through," she chimed, racing out to center stage, taking her place before the curtains could rise once more. Her final soliloquy would lead them into the epilogue, and would give Jory the opportunity he needed to cast his eyes past the orchestra pit and across the section of seats that lie beyond.

Front and center.

He would only have a minute or two. Sara would need to replace Velanthyr's wig. Erik needed a drink and Nelsyn's makeup needed a touch up. Very soon they would be on stage, the lights burning holes through their retinas, leaving them blinded and oblivious to all but each other and the saga they would spin to its end. He reached up to buckle the clasp on the bear pelt that draped across his shoulders.

For now, it was the narrator's turn. But he was ready. And then the curtains rose.

He smashed his face against the door frame like a cat burglar. A shaft of light swung down upon the stage illuminating Corinne at its center, and Jory peered out into the darkness it left in its wake. He squinted until he found the end of the section behind the orchestra pit, and he started counting backwards from there.

But seat E6 was empty.

Certain he'd made a mistake, he counted back again to double check, to be extra sure.

But he was right the first time.

"It's empty," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"What?" Shayla cried as she spun to face him.

"Yeah," he told her. "I counted twice to make sure I had the right seat, but no one's in it."

"Oh gods." She began to pace, wringing her hands. "What about the one next to it?"

"Which side?"

"Just tell me if you see an older woman."

"Umm, okay." At first he wasn't certain. There was a child on the right side, but on the left was a person who'd stood up, and was bent with their back toward him, like they were reaching for something. "I think… maybe. Yeah. I think so. It looks like she's getting up. She's picking up a bag or something. Is that a cat?"

"Tara?"

"Who brings a cat to a -"

"She's not a cat. She's a tressym."

"What the hell is a tress- holy shit, it's got wings! It just flew over - oh! Oh, I think I see him!"

"Where!"

The tressym sailed through the air to float beside a tall, slender man who was moving quickly up the aisle toward the exit. He wasn't running, out of proper respect for social decorum, but he had the energy of a man who wished he was. His shoulders were hitched up near his ears and he was stifling his mouth with the back of one hand.

And a shiver ran down Jory's spine.

This was the guy. The wizard. The real one.

Gale Dekarios, of Waterdeep.

In the flesh. Right there.

From what little Jory could see, the play had done him justice. He was a very handsome man, lithe and lean, long-legged with a powerful stride, and every bit as comely as Erik had depicted him to be.

Yet it was hard to imagine, through simple sight alone, that this was a man who had once been the Chosen of a god. Or that this was a man who had once vanquished the avatar of Death itself. A man who had put an end to the Cult of the Absolute.

A man who had once made his own decision about whether or not to plunge a dagger into his heart.

But it was easy to see why Shayla would want to stop him. This man clearly meant something to her.

He didn't know what providence deemed it necessary for him to ask. It certainly wasn't any of his business. But the question tumbled out of his mouth, unbidden. Perhaps the gods themselves just wanted to hear someone finally say it out loud.

"Does he know how you feel about him?"

Shayla slumped and let her hands fall limp to her sides. She pulled her lip into her mouth, and her eyes swam with visions of regret. "No," she whispered to him. "It was never the right time."

Oh, how irony could be so cruel.

"You should go after him, then," he told her. "Go quick. If you hurry, you can catch him before he gets to the front door."

"Shit!" she snarled and for a moment, Jory was afraid she'd scurry across the stage in the middle of Corinne's long and emotional speech. There was a wild streak in him that almost hoped she would. But instead, she bolted through the loading bay doors and flung herself outside, presumably to tear down the alley between the theater and the wine cellar to run around the building toward the front.

Nelsyn wandered over to them, sipping cold water from her mug and watching over her shoulder as the loading bay doors swung back and forth on their hinges.

"Jory," she stated flatly. "What did you do."

"What?!" he cried. Sara could only double over and laugh at him. "I didn't do anything!"

"Somebody did something," she said, eyeing the doors skeptically. "And it looks a lot like it was you."

"I'm serious! She asked if we could see him, and I told her yes. That's all."

"See who?"

"The wizard!"

"What wizard? You mean, like… Erik?"

"No!" He stuck out both hands and shook them. "The actual wizard! The real one, from Waterdeep! Yes, he's still alive! No, he didn't explode!"

"Well, everybody knows that…"

"She wanted to know where he was, so I told her, and then she ran out the door."

"Wait. So he was actually here tonight?"

"Jory," Sara accused him, still smiling pitifully at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not all you said to her."

"But I didn't -"

"You asked her a pretty personal question."

"Where was he sitting?" Nelsyn continued as she took another drink and leered at him over the rim over her mug.

"E6."

"Wow. Front and center."

"Yeah. She didn't want him to miss anything."

"So what did you ask her?"

Jory could only roll his eyes and sigh. None of them had time for this. He dropped his head and pinched his brow between his thumb and his forefinger but when he looked up, he found all eyes were on him. Even Erik and Velanthyr had paused their conversation long enough to turn around and stare. The technicians in the back tried to appear as if they weren't listening, but everyone knew they were. Suddenly, he could feel the heat that was trapped beneath the heavy mantle of his bear pelt.

"I asked her if he knew how she felt about him."

"What do you mean, how she felt…" And through the window of her eyes he could see her mentally calculating every single word she'd just sung. Right in front of the very man it was all intended for. Seated front and center, missing nothing. Her eyes flickered like golden flames.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "Like… feelings? Real ones? What did she say?"

He didn't get to answer. Just then, raucous applause erupted from behind them. The thunderous retort of clapping hands and cheers drowned all other sound, and signaled to them all that their time was up. Corinne came skipping backstage as the curtains fell behind her.

"And that's a wrap for me! Slam and a dunk! Go get 'em while they're - what's going on?"

"The wizard was here tonight," Nelsyn answered her without breaking her eye contact with Jory. "The real one. Shayla is in love with him. What did she sayyy?"

"No," he told her, holding very still while Sara dabbed a powder puff over his face. "She said no. He doesn't know."

"Are you serious?" Corinne gasped, pressing a hand to her heart.

"Well he does now," Sara chuckled, wriggling her eyebrows as she dropped the powder back into her cosmetics case. "I hope she caught him before he got away. He deserves an explanation."

And all around them, activity buzzed. Scenic backdrops rolled by, the intern fussed with Velanthyr's wig on her tiptoes, Sara dug frantically around searching for her lip stain, and the other actors began lining up to take their places. But in spite of the jubilant bustle of life happening all around them, Nelsyn could only stand with her mug in her hands, awestruck by the revelation they'd just been given.

"Sweet tapdancing Asmodeus," she laughed, shaking her head with her eyes transfixed on some far away place. "You mean to tell me that this whole time," she jostled the water in her mug when she bellowed, "THIS WHOLE TIME?! This whole play has been just a great big love letter to some… man?! For months?! And he only just heard it? Tonight? For the first time?"

"I think that about sums it up, yep," Sara told her, taking the mug from her hands.

"That's genius!" She shuffled to her place in line, utterly befuddled, her eyes glassy and glazed. "They're star-crossed, it's perfect! I wish this would've happened months ago! Just you wait, you'll see. When all the little fan fic authors out there find out about this? They are gonna go berserk! People everywhere will pay money for a vial of our sweat! The contents of our chamber pots - we'll be famous!

"Gods have mercy on us all. There might even be a sequel. We'll be touring this show til the day we die!"

************************************************************************

[theerurishipper]

The Issue with Felix Fathom

So, I'm not a fan of this character. I think there was a lot that could be done with him. I think he was done really dirty by the writing (but what's new there XD). He had a lot of potential; he was genuinely entertaining when he showed up and he slayed in that musical number. And that he was the only one to actually advance the plot meaningfully? Respect. But Season 5, as Season 5 does, ruined his character. And I don't like when bad writing ruins good characters. So I took it upon myself to break down his character and how Season 5 took a sledgehammer to it. I divided it into three parts.

A) Inconsistent motivations

B) Half-assed Redemption

C) Feligami is a bad ship

This gets long, so here we go.

A) Inconsistent motivations

The first time we're introduced to Felix in the episode named after him, he seems to just be a grade A dick, going out of his way to ruin his cousin's life and making deals with Hawkmoth to get his hands on some rings (which we now know are Adrien's amok) and the natural assumption is that he's just a spiteful asshole who's angry that Adrien didn't attend his father's funeral. Then he comes back in the finale of Season 4 (after a not really noteworthy return in Gabriel Agreste the episode) and proceeds to spend that time betraying Ladybug and giving all the Miraculous to Gabe, along with Adrien's Amok in exchange for the Peacock Miraculous. Then he shows up again in Season 5 as an advocate for Sentimonster rights and commits genocide, only going back on it when Adrien and Kagami called him out. Then he spends a while stalking Kagami and saving her from her mother, and then reveals his tragic backstory to her, instantly earning her trust. Then they get together, and the next time we see them, Kagami is declaring that they're doing this to stop their parents from getting in the way of their love. Then he is straight up missing from the finale, so that really did go somewhere.

So, let's take a look at his motivations through all these episodes one more time.

Felix: Just seems to want to ruin Adrien's life and get his hands on the rings that have his Amok in them.

Strikeback: Wants the Peacock Miraculous in exchange for the rest of the Miraculous and Adrien's Amok.

Emotion: Wants to rid the world of humans in an effort to create a better world for his fellow Sentimonsters.

Representation: Wants to stop Monarch so that he and Kagami can love each other freely without their parents' interference.

Recreation: Is a part of the hero team.

That's five different motivations within the course of, what, 8-9 episodes? And it causes some major inconsistencies in his characterization.

For an example, the episode Emotion introduces his whole Senti-rights thing, and he starts snapping the world away so that he and Adrien, and later Kagami can live happily ever after. He only let Kagami stick around because he realized she was also a Senti later (and Marinette too was only spared after he realized the relationship between her and Adrien), so we assume it was just going to be him and Adrien. He goes as far as to say he did this all for them, showing that he really cares about their opinion and well-being. And considering that Kagami and Marinette only factored into this later, we assume he was originally doing this just for Adrien.

Then why did he treat Adrien like such absolute shit over his past appearances? Let's review exactly what Felix has done to the cousin he claims he loves enough to snap out the world to protect him.

Victim blamed him for not standing up to Gabriel (despite knowing he was being mind-controlled and had no way of standing up to him).

Took on his identity to ruin his relationships with others he cared about.

Sent a cruel response to his friends' kind video to isolate him from his friends.

Stole his Amok from Gabe.

Realized his father was Shadow Moth and didn't tell him of the danger he was living under, or you know, give him back his Amok which holds his very autonomy in it.

Didn't try even a little to help Adrien when he realized the danger he was in.

Didn't tell Adrien he was a Sentimonster.

Gave Adrien's Amok back to Gabe without a hint of regret or hesitation.

Snapped everyone he cared about out of existence.

And yet, he loves him so much.

For someone who supposedly cares about Adrien, he sure did go out of his way to bully him and treat him like garbage. A clear example of how his motivations were retconned. He went from being a grade-A douchebag to Adrien to supposedly caring deeply about Adrien and wishing only for his well-being. He went from screwing over Adrien to doing everything for him apparently. He traded his Amok with no hesitation and with a grin on his face, and yet he supposedly did all this for Adrien.

Then the next time we see him, he's a Senti-rights advocate and is committing genocide for that cause. Which, fine. It was set up in the Season 4 finale that he seemed to care about Sentis. Still doesn't explain him caring about Adrien suddenly, but okay. Then we see him get into a relationship with Kagami, and the next time we see him, he's completely over his Senti-rights phase, and is now focusing on making sure Gabe gets taken down so that he and Kagami can love each other. There is no mention of his earlier motivation that he would not shut up about, and the only motivation is Kagami stating that they can't love each other unless they take care of Monarch. Sentimonster rights? Who cares about that? All that they need is to protect their love, because they're all that matters right? Not like there's a third Sentimonster still being controlled by his supervillain father that might need rescuing. Which is something Felix should probably care about if he's such an advocate for Senti-rights and freedom. Instead of, you know, focusing only on one girl he met less than a month ago.

And I'm not saying that wanting to protect his love can't be his motivation. Except when you make Senti-rights his motivation and then forget all about it to push an already rushed ship, it just ruins his character. Constantly retconning character motivations doesn't make for good storytelling, who woulda thunk it.

And just to drive in this complete reversal, the episode Emotion where Felix begins his quest for Senti-rights ends with him breaking down over having to destroy the Red Moon. And what do you know, this complete change in his motivation makes him create a Senti-projector for no reason and destroy it with no hesitation! Almost like the writers forgot what he was all about in the first half of the season! That they established him as someone who fought for giving Sentimonsters agency and treating them like people, and who would break down at having to destroy them, and only created Red Moon because he thought he wouldn't have to destroy her! But when his motivation changed to being in love with Kagami, I guess that all just up and vanished. And it just makes him come off as a hypocrite.

(Which is honestly what he is. Felix is a hypocrite. Despite not having been able to break free of his abusive father until his death, he mocks Adrien for not doing the same. To be clear, this is not criticism of Felix for not being able to fight back against Colt. He is not to blame for that whatsoever, and he did not deserve that treatment. This is criticism of him blaming Adrien for not fighting Gabriel, which is pretty hypocritical of him. And as I mentioned before, he says that he's not like others and that he wouldn't bring a Sentimonster to life just to destroy it later. Senti-projector would beg to differ.

These moments are transparently hypocritical. But the thing is, the narrative doesn't portray these as hypocritical moments, and never seems to acknowledge this aspect of his character. Instead, it's played straight and never addressed. You'd think that Felix doing the one thing he swore never to do would be addressed, but nah.)

And then Felix, the most proactive character in the series, whose whole appeal is that he gets shit done, decides to leave it to Ladybug to handle and fucks off to who knows where. And then he joins the team at the end despite having shown nothing but disdain for these people the last time he saw them, and despite having never shown the desire to work in a team.

B) Half-assed Redemption

That is, if it can even be called one.

So, yeah, let's start by listing all the awful shit Felix has done. We've already covered the list of things he did to Adrien specifically. But we can move onto the rest of his awful actions.

Tried to kiss Ladybug without her consent.

Betrayed Ladybug and gave all the Miraculous to Shadow Moth, putting Paris in grave danger.

Committed literal genocide.

That's it, pretty much. Until you consider the magnitude of what he's done, and then it all becomes a whole lot worse.

Like, he gave all the Miraculous to Gabe. He directly enabled a terrorist for personal gain. He actively put the lives of countless people in danger for his own desires. He betrayed Ladybug's trust and caused her great suffering. And did I mention he enabled a terrorist?

And his defense for this?

Argos: True, except I work for no one. (kicks Ladybug, causing her to crash onto a building) I only helped Monarch cause it served my plans! (charges in to punch her and she dodges) I needed the Peacock Miraculous and today I need yours and Cat Noir's so I can make my wish! (makes another attempt to attack Ladybug with his heel as Ladybug rolls away to evade it)

Oh yeah, so sadness, much remorse. Very redeemable.

But the funny part is, this isn't even the worst of it. He then goes on to commit literal genocide. I know I brought this up more casually before, but I need to emphasize how actually fucked up this is. Felix, of his own free will and of completely sound mind, killed all the people in Paris and possibly in other parts of the world, whilst singing a peppy song and enjoying himself.

And yeah, I got a good laugh out of that scene too. Doesn't make it any less fucked up. He committed genocide without a care in the world. Mf literally pulled an Eren Yeager, but even Eren had some remorse or something. And he didn't even bring them back because he realized mass murder was wrong, he did it because the people he did it for turned on him, and he realized that maybe people with morals don't appreciate him killing everyone in the world including the people they love.

And what does that episode do? Have Ladybug blindly trust that Felix would fix things himself, with no reason for her to do so. He literally just admitted he feels no remorse or regret for helping Monarch, that he wants their Miraculous to make a wish and that he has nothing to lose. And she just... decides to trust him because... the Lucky Charm said so? Because she was able to feel positive vibes coming from deep within him even though he has proven to be nothing but a self-absorbed piece of shit? Even though he's betrayed her trust so much and caused her a great deal of pain and suffering? And it's not even like it was right, because he didn't change and fix things because he could be trusted. He did it because his plan failed to please Adrien and Kagami and he realized he had fucked up with them. Not the people he killed, just them.

Okay.

After this, we see him in Pretension. To his credit, he seems to have given up on genocide, and has taken up stalking as a new hobby to keep himself busy. And then he kidnaps Kagami, yadda yadda, Sentimonsters are people, we don't abuse them in my house, all that. And then, this is what gets Kagami to start advocating for Felix.

Like, he just not too long ago snapped her mother out of existence right in front of her. He just snapped the entire fucking world out of existence. He should be publicly despised. People should be out for his head. Ladybug and Chat Noir should have made getting his Miraculous back one of their top priorities. But no one does anything. And hearing one speech about how Sentimonsters should be protected makes Kagami just flip her whole tune about Felix, as though he didn't commit unimaginable horrors. One hint at a tragic backstory and a passionate speech about Sentimonster rights, and suddenly he didn't do anything wrong. He was actually a good guy all along! There's certainly no reason for anyone to distrust him! He may have done all that awful shit, but he had good intentions! That makes it all okay!

Like, I get it. I get that his motivations are sympathetic. But that does not absolve him of wrongdoing. He doesn't get a free pass from consequences and accountability just because he had good reasons and a bad childhood. Kagami goes from being unbelievably hurt by him essentially murdering her mother, to being okay around him when he kidnaps her, to literally shielding him from consequences a short while later, and ends the episode by going on a date with him. As though she doesn't remember what he did.

Really. Kagami would do that. Kagami Tsurugi. You expect me to believe she'd do that? That she'd be swayed by one passionate speech and start coddling and protecting people from facing justice? Kagami would do that? Sure Jan.

Seriously, this is like listening to a terrorist go on about how animals deserve to be treated well and shouldn't be abused and deciding that their fervor for animal rights means they're a good person at heart. They aren't completely insane, cool. Doesn't mean they still aren't a horrible, monstrous person! And yes, I am comparing the two situations. Just because Felix brought all the people back doesn't change the fact that he first did it with the intention of having it be permanent, only brought everyone back because it was hurting the people he tried to please and not because he realized genocide was wrong, and then never expressed remorse for it. The writers aren't good enough to properly explore the implications of what just happened, but it doesn't mean I'm gonna brush by it, especially since they want to be taken seriously this season.

But Felix had a bad childhood, and he had good reasons, and his heart was in the right place. So naturally, he doesn't need to be called out, and Kagami's word is enough for Ladybug and Chat Noir to just... straight up forget that he happily gave up the Miraculous to Monarch and let him do whatever he wants. Sure, he betrayed them horribly and said he wasn't sorry at all about it, but this girl who's known him for a few hours at best says he's a good guy, so it must be true! The show tells us that he's not bad really, he's just misunderstood! Even if he never really apologized or expressed regret and remorse. Ladybug and Chat Noir have valid and justifiable reasons for going after Felix, and the narrative hasn't yet proven them wrong. And yet, him simply having sympathetic motivations is enough for him to be considered a good person and have all his mistakes forgotten. That's not how a redemption works.

Forgive me for being a basic bitch, but look at ATLA and how it handled Zuko's arc. Yeah, Zuko had sympathetic motivations, but that was never used as an excuse. He had to go through a whole arc of realizing the error of his ways, and no one coddles him through it. He actively owns up to his mistakes, accepts blame and responsibility for them, and works hard to earn the Gaang's forgiveness and trust. They don't forgive him immediately either, and he literally puts his life at risk to be accepted by them. He openly calls himself out and apologizes. Contrast that to Felix's "redemption," where his sympathetic motivations are used not to explain his actions, but to excuse them. Him having sympathetic motivations makes another character start to like him enough to shield him from being called out. He gets sympathy and understanding despite having done nothing to earn it. He never apologizes or tries to fix what he did, he never even admits that he hurt people and made mistakes, and yet just because he showed that he's not a heartless monster, the people he hurt are just supposed to accept that he's not a bad person. He's done so many awful things, but he's shown that he can potentially have a compassionate side (for very a specific thing but okay) so all is forgiven and forgotten.

The thing is, having sympathetic motivations and qualities that indicate that he's not completely cruel don't mean a thing if he doesn't act on them. It doesn't matter that he says he loves Adrien if he treats him like shit anyway. It doesn't matter if Felix cares about things and isn't actually as untrustworthy and selfish as he came off if he never shows those qualities in his actions. Sure, Kagami might trust him for whatever reason, but Ladybug and Chat Noir (as Adrien) are victims of his toxic actions, and Kagami's word about how he's not their enemy shouldn't be enough for them to just blindly let it go. Because they have no reason to trust him, and he has not shown any sign that he wants to make up for what he did or even that he feels bad about it at all (again, he literally says he doesn't).

Sympathetic backstories are supposed to help us recontextualize a character's actions, yes. Zuko too came off as a lot more sympathetic after we learnt of his past. That didn't mean he didn't have to make up for what he did. He had to work to change and grow, and actively states that he was wrong and that he wants to make up for it. Where does Felix do this? All he does is start talking about Senti-rights and suddenly all he's done is water under the bridge? All the things he's done can be forgotten because he did them for good reasons? One emotional moment means he's not that bad after all and means they can trust him, even though he's done nothing to prove that? Him having sympathetic motivations means he's now justified in what he did and doesn't need to make up for it?

That's not redemption. That's excusing bad people because they did what they did for "good reasons". He never admits to his mistakes, and he never takes accountability. Instead, Kagami is there to vouch for him despite not being the one most affected by him. And then no one calls him out anymore. And according to that little play, he still thinks it was justified for him to do those things because he had a good reason, and the show agrees with him!

A good heart is not enough for a redemption. It involves learning and growing and taking accountability. It means showing regret and remorse and the desire to do better. It means apologizing and accepting consequences. In canon, Felix has done none of those things. He expresses some kind of noble reason and is immediately validated and entitled to understanding and forgiveness. The characters don't bring up his past crimes, and he joins the team with no issue in the finale, as though he didn't snap these people out of existence gleefully, or as though he wasn't the reason they all suffered under Monarch.

You want me to believe Felix is a good guy? Give him an actual arc of growth. Actually make him confront the things he did. Actually let him face consequences and make it up to the people he hurt. Let him admit to his faults and learn how to be better. Don't give him a girlfriend who acts as a shield to exonerate him of all fault. That's not how a redemption arc works. That's not how any of this works.

C) Feligami is a bad ship

Imma say it. This is not a good ship.

Yeah, in concept it's fine, even good. I always love me some enemies to lovers. But the execution is so rushed and so poor that I really can't understand why they even got together.

The short version? It actively detracts from both of their characters.

The long version? Here we go.

It's so rushed.

We get Felix and Kagami together in Emotion, Pretension, and Representation. They go from enemies to lovers in three episodes, and in about a week in canon. In Emotion, they are very assuredly not friends. Felix only spares her because she's a Senti like him, and she straight up attacks him for killing everyone.

In Pretension, he stalks her for a while, saves her from her mother, reveals his sympathetic motivations leading her to start trusting him, and they go on a date at the end of the episode.

A few problems:

Kagami seems to have forgotten everything Felix did to her and the rest of the world just... a few days ago.

Kagami just admitted to still being in love with Adrien.

So for her to just... go along with him with no distrust or hatred is so strange. She called him out for stalking her, but what about the mass murder? Surely she hasn't forgotten about that?

And also, she literally just admitted to still being in love with Adrien. And she's immediately going on a date with Felix? I'm not saying she can't or that she shouldn't but... why have her still being in love with Adrien be such a big part of her arc this season, so much so that it had an episode dedicated to it, if it's going to be resolved in no time at all? Where did her feelings for Adrien go? They are never brought up again. Did they disappear off screen? And Felix and Kagami end up together in one single episode! They barely know each other! And by the time the next episode with them in it rolls around, Kagami is saying shit like "My mother and Gabriel Agreste will never allow us to love each other freely." Baby girl you've barely known him for a week, slow down please.

So yeah, rushed. But that's not all the problems I have with it. In their effort to pair these two together, there are some problems with the very concept of this ship. Now, the reason I said earlier that it's conceptually a good ship is because there are a few minor issues in it, but nothing that cannot be fixed with time and good writing. So overall it's a good concept. Problem is, we have the end product but the writing is shitty and ruins the whole thing.

It damages Felix's arc.

At least, whatever Felix's arc was supposed to be in Season 5. It started out with him trying to create a better world for Sentimonsters like himself. There are two aspects of his arc that the writers were trying to go for here. To integrate him into the protagonists' side from his role as an antagonist (his seasonal arc), and to flesh out his goal of getting more freedom for Sentis (his overall character arc).

Feligami as a ship undermines both these goals. Introducing Kagami as a love interest for Felix makes her more or less a shield for him to protect him from consequences, undercutting the "redemption" part of his arc. It stops him from having to face consequences or make amends or take accountability, because having a good person be in love with him is an easier way of painting him as also "good," thereby reducing the need to have him go through any actual growth. Having Kagami love Felix instantly prevents him from having to grow. It makes it cliche "Guy changes with the love of a girl" trope, except done poorly because he never really changed, she just started making it seem like he did by excusing him.

And as for his goal of freedom for Sentimonsters, his relationship with Kagami switches the focus from developing him, developing the lore of Sentimonsters (because the previous seasons did a piss poor job of it) and his goal into developing Feligami, which changes his goal from what was previously established to Being In Love With Kagami. He goes from wanting all Sentimonsters to be free to wanting to protect his relationship with Kagami and only that. You could say that he and Kagami are Sentimonsters and therefore saving their relationship falls under this, but that's not how it's framed. It's not framed as something Felix thinks furthers his goal, it's something else entirely. Felix spares no more thought to the freedom of Sentimonsters and does not mention it again, or else he would have thought about the other Sentimonster, his cousin, whom he damned in the previous season. He spent his reintroduction in Season 5 professing how deeply he cares for him, and yet after Feligami becomes a thing, he barely spares a thought to the only other Sentimonster (whose free will he traded for personal gain) even though he's such an advocate for Senti-rights.

It ruins Kagami's arc.

Kagami's overall arc is to win back her free will from her mother and find her own path in life, and this arc this season focuses on Kagami learning how to allow herself to be more passionate and emotional and want more from her life, both in terms of companionship and freedom, which is a step on her way to freeing herself from her mother's control. A big part of this arc is her still being in love with Adrien. She's also a Sentimonster, making her arc about autonomy and freeing herself from the control of her mother, finding new relationships and forging a new path for herself. This is something that has always been a part of Kagami's character. She's stubborn and headstrong. She finds her own way. And with the introduction of the plot point of her being a Sentimonster, you'd expect a pivotal moment to be her reclaiming her own agency. Except that's not what happens.

In Pretension, Tomoe asks for her Amok, and Kagami gives it to her. And at the end of the episode, it's revealed that Felix stole her actual Amok, and gives it back to her, thereby being the actual one who saves Kagami from being controlled by her mother. And it undercuts Kagami's arc of standing up to her mother and asserting her independence, because it's not her asserting herself, it's Felix sneakily saving her Amok for her. Kagami, who paves her own way, has a pivotal part of her arc where she reclaims her autonomy done for her by someone else. And we never see anything related to them again. So it makes an important moment which the episode has been building to, of Kagami standing up for herself and progressing her character arc into her being saved by a guy. She basically becomes a damsel in distress. And her arc never progresses beyond that, so her character journey in Season 5 which was supposed to be about freeing herself ends up being Kagami Finds A Boyfriend.

The episodes before this were building up her relationship with Marinette and Adrien, showing that Kagami is progressing in her social life, making friends and opening up to more people as a part of her development. Her development happened mostly starting from Season 3 and since she was only in a handful of episodes, we only saw it progress slowly. But we see a progression in her relationship with Mari and Adrien as she becomes more comfortable, open and vulnerable with them. And episodes like Perfection show how she is making more friends, that she is loved by many people. We see her start to want more friends, more freedom. And this is emphasized more than in the previous seasons. But once Felix enters the picture and Feligami happens, it's like her other relationships go out of the window. All she cares about is Felix. She doesn't want to assert herself to protect her other friendships too. All she cares about is that she and Felix won't be able to love each other. This straight up ruins her arc about finding many lasting relationships that she values and wants to fight for, because now she has one boyfriend to focus on over the many friends she was making and wanted to make, which was one of the things I actually liked about the Season. Kagami started the season with wanting to fight for all her relationships, and ended it with only caring about one guy she met a week ago. Thanks, I hate it.

It makes them both act OOC.

Feligami as a ship alters both Felix and Kagami's characters to revolve around their romance, even if it means they act in ways that are out of character. It drastically changes their personalities and their roles in the story.

For Kagami, it manifests itself the worst in Representation. Kagami is a very direct, to the point individual. If she wants to say something, she says it. If she wants to do something, she does it, or at least tries her best to do it. And Kagami hates lying. She broke up with Adrien for this very reason, because he wasn't being honest with her. So for her to go through this elaborate scheme to trick Marinette into going to the school by following Felix disguised as Adrien is unnecessary and... kind of cruel. And for her to have discovered Marinette's identity as Ladybug, and to go behind her back and tell Felix without informing Marinette herself, is so out of character for her. Felix is not entitled to this information. In fact, he is the last person Mari would want to reveal this to, other than Monarch and his lackeys. And for Kagami to betray Mari like this when she hates secrets and lies is so out of character for her.

And it's the same thing with Adrien. This is someone she loves so much that breaking up with him hurt her so badly, and she chooses to not tell him vital information that she knows about him, that he is a Sentimonster and his father is Monarch. Anyone who is keeping this secret from Adrien by thinking they know what's best for him is actively denying his ability to break free of his abusive father, whom Kagami is already trying to fight against, and yet the thought of telling Adrien the truth never crosses her mind. Even after she pushed him to assert himself and stand up for himself. She called him out for this in Risk, and yet now she is complicit in denying him the information he needs to do that. Kagami, who told Adrien to stick up for himself, is denying him what he needs to do that and making decisions for him.

It undercuts her personality in other ways too. Kagami is a very stubborn and very straightforward person. And so, for her to coddle Felix when Ladybug and Chat Noir come to rightfully take back the Peacock Miraculous and call Felix out is so against how she usually is. She is reduced to being Felix's protector. Kagami does not take shit lying down, and she does not shy away from calling people out, even if she loves them. For her to validate Felix just because he said and did a few nice things makes her come off very differently from who she is.

So basically, her personality changes. Since she is around Felix, whose MO is usually being tricky and sneaky, Kagami also goes along with it to advance the relationship and the plot, even though it is the antithesis of her character. She willfully abandons all her principles so that this plot can progress. Because Feligami can't happen as fast as it needs to if the writers have to explore this drastic difference between their values, as it would make them incompatible with each other. It could be resolved, but it needs time which the writers don't have because Feligami needs to happen quickly before the season ends for plot purposes. So this lack of exploration of their dynamic makes the ship seem very shallow, and so they would rather remove their defining traits altogether than take the time to flesh out their dynamic and reconcile their contradictory values which would make their relationship more natural.

The relationship also hurts Kagami's role in the story. The first half focused on her relationships with her friends and her mother. But once Felix came along, like I said, her arc switched to revolve around him. Not only does this hurt Kagami's arc, but it also removes her from the plot. Her mother is now part of the main conflict, and yet Kagami is separated from her at this crucial time and put into a romance with Felix to keep them busy and away from the main plot. Them being Sentimonsters too only really matters for exposition purposes and to force a relationship between them. And her arc of breaking free from her mother is abandoned, because now her relationship with Tomoe barely matters to the story. Only Feligami matters now.

And as for Felix, one of his greatest appeals as a character is his proactiveness. He pushes the story forward, he gets things done. He is interesting and engaging to watch because he doesn't sit around and let other characters make a move before he does something. And this romance arc with Kagami makes him do just that. Once his romance arc with Kagami begins, Felix's character is resigned to this arc, and therefore his pivotal role in the story proper ends. The relationships that were developed for him that gave him an active role in the story, such as his relationship with Adrien and his enmity with Gabe were all pushed to the side. These are the main characters in the show, and Felix's relationship to them was what allowed him to be close to the conflict. But after Feligami became a thing, Felix's connection to the main plot was severed, and all that he could contribute to it was the information he had figured out about it. So that's why his main contribution to the conflict this season was just telling Mari that Gabe is Monarch.

Basically, he was a mouthpiece for exposition. Compare this to his role in Strikeback, where he was an active part of the conflict because of his connection to Gabe and Adrien. And him being cut off from everyone except Kagami, who is by no means anything but a side character and who is certainly not as involved in the final conflict as she should be, his role also moves with hers because his arc is written around her. And his role only extends as far as hers, which is why he is barely in the finale except for a few seconds at the end. He goes from an active character to a passive one, which massively reduces his appeal in the story. He goes from proactive to complacent, which is so different from the type of person he was established as. Look me in the eye and tell me that Felix from Season 4 would let Ladybug handle things instead of marching up to Gabe and snapping him out of existence himself.

Feligami as a ship alters Felix's personality (the very little of it that was left after Season 4 ended). He was introduced as conniving and cruel and selfish. Him caring about Sentimonsters doesn't change that about him. But once Feligami becomes a thing, that aspect of his personality straight up disappears. From a writing standpoint, there is a reason for this which I'll get into later, but suffice to say that in order for Feligami to happen, they had to retool Felix's personality to be more appealing, and tone down his cruelty and lack of morals.

And as I've already mentioned, him destroying the Senti-projector without any sort of hesitation or guilt when he completely broke down about having to kill Red Moon shows how much his character had to change, even withing the season for this to happen. Felix being willing to kill a Sentimonster for any reason is completely unfathomable (lol) and yet he does it in order to save his relationship with Kagami without a hint of remorse.

Once again, the romance messes with their fundamental character traits and roles in the story.

Their relationship is diet Adrienette.

It is. Kagami is introduced to Felix when he is masquerading as Adrien. She later compares him to Marinette. Kagami is the reserved, isolated kid, like Adrien. Felix takes on the role of the "awkward" Marinette. Kagami is locked away by her parent like Adrien, Felix comes to her rescue like Marinette is supposed to for Adrien.

The thing is, these similarities are extremely superficial. Kagami and Adrien share a similar situation as abused children who are currently being controlled by their parent, but that's about where it ends. And Felix's awkwardness and shyness remind Kagami of Marinette, but that's about where their similarities end. And yet, their relationship is not built up much beyond that. There are some differences, but again, a lot of the concept is the same, and with so less screentime, it ends up coming off as a less compelling and way more rushed version of the main couple. Especially since the writers clearly didn't know what to do with Kagami and Felix, so the obvious solution was to give them each other and end that plot line. This relationship is literally just "Pair the Spares."

Of course, there are also differences, plenty in fact, but all things considered, it seems like the writers wanted to make Kagami and Felix prominent but didn't know how to end their seasonal arcs. Kagami's of finding lasting relationships (the plural being important actually)/being in love with Adrien, and Felix's of redemption and coming over to the good side. So they threw Felix at Kagami as a consolation prize and Kagami at Felix as a convenient excuse. Of course, this is a really poor conclusion to their seasonal arcs, and also warps their overall character arcs, Kagami's of asserting her individuality and Felix's of Senti-rights. It twists it into becoming all about their love when they could continue working on progressing those like they've been doing in the episodes prior to Feligami becoming canon.

And it seems to also be trying to compensate for Adrienette. Adrien and Marinette are having trouble kissing? Felix and Kagami can't stop. Adrienette took literally forever to happen? Feligami happened in a single episode. This relationship is built around the main couple with not much of a leg to stand on its own. They have no organic, natural build up. It just happens because the plot demands it. The reason I say their relationship is built around Adrienette because it is clearly only happening because they needed to get Felix and Kagami out of the way, and they try to make up for some of the criticisms levelled against Adrienette with this ship.

But speaking of differences...

They don't know each other.

Quite frankly, they do not know each other at all. They've barely known each other for a week. That's not enough to fall in love with someone, not enough that someone like Kagami is talking about it like they're soulmates, star-crossed lovers who are fighting the world or something. Their relationship is extremely superficial, and the only reason they are together is because the plot demanded it to be so. We've seen how it warps their characters to be involved in a romance and how them even falling in love necessitates that their personalities be altered. And there are a few other contrivances that leads to the conclusion that this is clearly less a natural and organic relationship and more a set of conveniences that are needed to give them something to do in the season.

Why do I say they don't know each other? Why do I say they aren't in love with each other? Well...

Felix only likes Kagami because she's a Sentimonster.

Because that's the reason he ever even noticed her. He only noticed her because she was a Sentimonster. That's why he spared her. That's why he followed her. That's why he likes her. Because she's just like him.

Ask yourself, what else does Felix know about Kagami? What does he like about her explicitly? Does he appreciate her character? Does he enjoy her interests? What would they talk about other than them being Sentimonsters? And the answer to that is we don't know. We don't know why Felix likes Kagami, aside from the fact that she's a Sentimonster like him and that she stuck up for him. The rest is inference, because they only appear in what, one more episode after that, and they spend all that time putting on that cringy play for Marinette (which does fuck all because Mari doesn't figure out that Gabe is Monarch from that anyway lmfao).

Kagami only likes Felix because he's similar to Adrien.

On the most superficial level, of course. Felix looks like Adrien, he sounds like Adrien. The reason Kagami broke up with Adrien is because she wanted him to be more assertive, and Felix has that in spades. He's kind of like Adrien... the way Kagami wants him.

Puts things in a different context, huh?

Adrien is kind and compassionate, he's empathetic and selfless. He cares about her. Kagami was drawn to that nature of his. And on the surface, Felix exhibits these traits as well. He's kind to Kagami, he seems to have a great deal of compassion and empathy for Sentimonsters. And it was only previously revealed that Kagami still has feelings for Adrien. And here she sees a boy who looks and sounds like her old boyfriend, who seems to share some of the same qualities as him, even doing things like drawing hearts on her window, which is something a romantic like Adrien would do...

Seems like Kagami is trying to replace Adrien with someone who seems to be just like him. She's projecting her feelings for Adrien onto someone who meets the criteria.

Of course, that's where these superficial similarities end. Felix and Adrien couldn't be more different. Adrien is a hero. He's Chat Noir, who risks his life on the daily to battle Monarch. Felix... directly enabled Monarch's rise to power.

And that's just it. Kagami has not seen this. Kagami does not know this. She sees that Felix is, on some level, similar to Adrien, and seems to like him for that reason. But she doesn't know Felix as he is. She's only ever seen his "nice" side. She doesn't know who he truly is and what he's done. She doesn't know him. She's never seen him at his worst, she doesn't know just how badly he's fucked up, she doesn't know that he wasn't sorry for it at all. And what he did do, she never brings up and never acknowledges it, so it's like she forgot. At least for the whole genocide thing, we can at least make the excuse that he brought everyone back to explain her not trying to cut him into tiny pieces the moment she sees him (again, it's a bad excuse, it should not have been glossed over and forgotten, but if I have to do the writers' work for them...). But she doesn't know him beyond that. All she's seen is his "good" side. She doesn't know how he betrayed Ladybug. How he allied himself with Monarch. How he treated his cousin. She doesn't know him at all.

How do you think she'd react if she knew all this? Would she still be in a relationship with him? No. And that's why the writers had to make sure she never found out, and only saw the "good" side of him. So that she could fall for him without having to deal with the atrocities that he committed. So that they could come up with justifications for why she liked him without having to have him face consequences and actually deal with what he's done. They had to erase the worst of his actions so that Kagami could come to protect his feelings from his victims. They had to alter his personality and ignore some of his more unsavory personality traits so that they could justify someone like Kagami falling for him. The moment Kagami is in the picture and the Feligami arc happens, all Felix's traits like his cunning, his selfishness... it's all gone. All to make him more appealing.

She liked Adrien because he was nice to her. Not just to her, but to everyone around him. Felix is also nice to her. But that's all she's seen. She doesn't know Felix. So she doesn't know that he's only nice to her (and his mom). She's only seen him in situations where he comes off as good and nice, and she hasn't known him long enough to get the whole picture (people will point to the events of Emotion, but it doesn't count if she never seems to hold it against him or indicate that she even remembers it). Which leads to Kagami having a fundamental misunderstanding of who Felix is, not knowing that he's selfish and cruel, and not like Adrien. They had to hide this side of him when he was with Kagami to make him seem more nicer, kinder and sweeter, more like Adrien. And this is the Felix that Kagami falls for. Not for who he is as himself, flaws and all, but only the positive aspects of him, the qualities that got her to fall for Adrien.

There is a fundamental lack of understanding between them because they don't know a lot about each other. Their relationship isn't built on acceptance of the other person, they only like each other because they meet their superficial expectations and haven't known each other long enough to understand each other deeper, which would make them realize how different they are, who the other person truly is. This is the kind of relationship that ends in a mess. Once Kagami finds out about Felix being a tricky and scheming person, more than what he showed in Emotion, and that he's selfish enough to damn them all for personal gain, do you think she'd stay with him?

Kagami has a strong sense of justice and right or wrong, while Felix is... morally ambiguous, to say the least. And so, it begs the question, how were Kagami "I hate deception" Tsurugi and Felix "serial manipulator" Fathom able to reconcile this fundamental difference in their principles that is a very defining part of who they are? The answer is they didn't. And that does not make for a sustainable relationship. They need to get to know each other better before acting like they're fated lovers straight outta Shakespeare. But as of now, they don't know each other, they don't know some very important things about each other that could cause conflict in their relationship. But dealing with that would take away from other important things such as Adrien and Marinette trying to kiss for the thousandth time, and so the writers fail to explore it and ignore it, opting to write Kagami and Felix both OOC to make it seem like they are totally made for each other and have a great relationship and are super in love.

It wouldn't matter if it was implied that Feligami have this conflict and the writers chose to hint at it and address it later. But they're portrayed as a perfect couple with only cute moments and stuff. And it really seems like there was no effort put into writing them at all. The relationship is only there to give them something to do. Watch as they never address any of this, watch as they just keep giving them cute moments instead of addressing some important issues with this relationship. Watch as they keep writing them OOC because they would hate each other if their personalities were left as they were.

Because it's not perfect. Quite frankly, it's not good.

Edit: Apparently she does know about Monarch. I forgot that play they did, and he mentions that he gave the Miraculous to Monarch. My bad. But my point still stands. In fact, it makes it worse. They made him justify himself in that play and Kagami just accepts it. Kagami accepts and willingly allies herself with someone who is the reason everyone is in such danger. She willingly allies with someone who hurt her friend in such a cruel way. It literally goes against her character to exonerate people just because they have a tragic backstory. And Felix's character and personality is still changed to be more appealing so that they don't have to deal with all this. You expect me to believe that Kagami, anyone really, would just brush over the fact that Felix sold them all out to Monarch? She knows about it, but they still had to brush over it in order for the ship to work. The writers knew that if they actually made Felix face consequences and acknowledged his actions, they could never get Feligami together, or even get anyone to associate with Felix for that matter.

And even if Kagami does know about Monarch, that doesn't change much of my criticism. She still doesn't know how he treated Adrien, she still hasn't seen his manipulative and cruel side. His personality was still made more appealing so that she could get together with him, which includes glossing over his flaws and unsavory character traits and erasing his mistakes. Kagami still doesn't know who Felix is as a person because she has never been exposed to that side of him. The show tries to sell it to us that he does everything for a good reason, and that's why Kagami decides to trust him (which I already addressed), but she hasn't seen all the shit he did to his cousin out of sheer spite. I stand by my point that Kagami would never associate herself with Felix if she knew who he really was, and the writers knew this. So, the show goes out of its way to downplay his mistakes and make it seem like they are noble heroics, and it literally changes his personality so that Kagami can like him. The way it's written, she might as well not know and nothing would be different, so really, none of my criticism is actually moot.

The writers couldn't find a way to have Feligami happen if Kagami held Felix accountable, so they just made Kagami brush over it/forget about it and had Felix justify himself. Their relationship isn't built on Felix genuinely regretting his mistakes and wanting to fix it, it's built on him getting a personality retool and justifying himself, and on Kagami miraculously (sorry) forgetting how egregious his mistakes are and excusing him because of his tragic backstory. Instead of dealing with his unsavory traits and acknowledging his mistakes, the show erases those traits and justifies his mistakes to make him seem better than he is. His awful actions are retconned into being noble deeds that were necessary and correct, so really, Kagami still doesn't know him because the story changed what he actually did into something else entirely. She doesn't truly know what he did, just the watered down, sanitized version of it. But to an audience who watched Felix remorselessly bargain with Gabriel and doom so many people to be victims of Monarch, it makes Kagami look bad by association for allying with someone who sold them all out to a terrorist and doesn't regret it.

Again, this is still changing his personality. Making a clearly bad act to be justified, thereby portraying it as some moral act instead of the scummy shit it was makes him seem better than he really is. I may have been wrong about Kagami not knowing about Monarch, but she still doesn't know him, because now he doesn't have those bad qualities and his mistakes aren't really mistakes. So, Kagami doesn't know who he truly is and thinks he and his actions are better than they really are. She doesn't accept him flaws and all, she doesn't realize he's changed or that he's trying to change. She's written so that she thinks that what he did wasn't so bad that he has to be held accountable for it. The writers couldn't put in the effort to actually deal with what he did, so they tried to justify him by having characters like Kagami not bring up his mistakes, and rather accept and agree with what he did. Which is just... yikes.

In conclusion...

Felix's character was stripped of his intrigue and plot relevance. He was turned from a compelling character and villain into a glorified love interest who barely mattered to the plot. His "redemption" was half-assed because the writers couldn't bother to put in the effort, instead choosing to drastically alter his personality. His motivations were retconned in twice in the season itself, and his story ultimately went nowhere. He was ruined so badly that he took Kagami down with him. And it's sad, because despite his villainous role in the story, he was a genuinely interesting character. He had a great presence and he actually acted and did stuff. He was fresh and fun. Sure, he was an asshole, but he was enjoyable and entertaining to watch. But once you take away what makes him so appealing, all that's left is a husk.

Thing is, most of the problems with Felix can be traced back to Feligami. And sure, maybe that handful of Feligami shippers who spawned after Gabriel Agreste were gratified, and you know what? Good for them. But I really didn't like it, and I thought it was a massive disservice to both Felix and Kagami's characters. For Felix to be reduced to a simp and a glorified trophy, and for Kagami to be reduced to "girl who fixes the guy" (which they didn't do well lol) and the damsel in distress for him to save. I didn't like how their characters were changed for this ship to happen all because the plot demanded that it had to happen.

I am not against a relationship between Felix and Kagami. I love enemies to lovers. But it has to be good. It shouldn't rely on the characters' personalities being changed and their past interactions and mistakes being forgotten in order to force a ship to happen within a single episode. It shouldn't gloss over their genuine incompatible qualities. And I've said it before, having opposing personalities isn't a sign that your relationship is fated to be doomed or something. Not at all. People can put in effort and work on their relationship to reconcile their differences. But it's not dealt with. Rather, it's ignored in favor of making them seem like the perfect couple just a week or so after they met? As though they are already like such a healthy and loving couple who know each other soooooo well. The show chooses to change their personalities rather than figure out a way for them to reconcile their actual personalities. And this hurts both their characters and makes them do things they would never do if it were not for the ship. And if you have to change your characters' personalities for a ship to happen... then no offense, but maybe it shouldn't happen.

And most of this problem with the ship is because of the lack of screentime. Maybe they could have cut down on the Chloe hatefest to, idk, give these important characters some more screentime? Maybe we didn't need Derision and we could have gotten some more of Felix and Kagami there? No hate to the people who like Derision, I'm happy that others got joy out of it, but was it really necessary? Maybe they could have given Felix and Kagami the time they gave to Socqueline, who is the most unnecessary character ever? And again, no hate to her fans, but was she really needed? Did she contribute anything that could not have been and wasn't already being contributed by an established character (Alya)? Does she have any plot relevance aside from being there?

Maybe if they had cut down on some of these useless decisions which no one really asked for (did anyone really look at Mari's awkwardness and think "oh I wonder what specific trauma she went through to be like this, it can't be that she's just nervous around her crush or anything"), they could have made Feligami a more natural and believable romance and had Felix develop as a character and join the team in the end without having to change their characters completely.

But Felix's character is riddled with inconsistency and hypocrisy, and he is the farthest thing from redeemed, even at the end of the season. And frankly, it baffles me that they decided to include him in the team at the end. The writing choices surrounding him did not help his character develop in any meaningful way. He was less a character with a story and an arc and more a plot device that the writers changed up whenever they needed him to do something. His personality and motivations changed according to the needs and demands of the plot. But it also went out of its way to justify and make the audience sympathize with him. So, Felix's writing is in this weird grey area where he's a victim of bad writing but it's used to his advantage more often than not.

(To get a little more into my personal feelings here, unlike characters like Chloe for whom I can get rightfully angry about her mistreatment by the narrative, I don't feel that way for Felix because the narrative favors him, and his personality is changed to make him look good in whatever plot he's in. His moments are at the expense of other characters. So, his character is inconsistent and poorly written, but it's often to his favor, and that makes it less... outrageous? to me than for characters like Chloe and Adrien. Idk, this is one of my most subjective points, feel free to disagree.)

But bad writing is still bad writing. Ultimately, the decisions made in Season 5 were detrimental to Felix's character and made him far less compelling than he was, and it's a damn shame. But hey, that's just me.

[sweet-self-indulgence]

Hey love your work! can you write some Mika x James smut please im desperate! <3 Hope you have a wonderfull day <3

Thank you! <3

Once I got started on this James seemed to write himself! I can't be bothered to edit right now, so look for a cleaner version on AO3 in a couple of days.

According to plan

How is Mika going to get the attention she craves from James? Maybe she needs a plan, or maybe spontaneity will win the day.

Mika sighs and flicks sand with her toe. James has his nose stuck firmly in his latest book, all but ignoring the beautiful seaside.

It wouldn’t be so bad that it’s how he wants to spend his beach time if it weren’t for the fact he’s been acting like a manager for the whole trip. Of course he’s been good at it too. Every day has been a perfect mix of activities. Enough time on the beach to have fun but not enough to get bored and sunburnt, fantastic local food for dinner, and excursions to stunning natural wonders.

Mika cringes at how selfish those thoughts make her feel. It really has been the perfect vacation, except for the fact she’s hardly spent any time with James. At first, she was happy to sit and read beside him, but she exhausted her reading material 2 days ago.

Another sigh escapes Mika as her mind wanders to the tall, dark-haired, too-smart-for-his-own-good love interest from her novel. He had been very eager to spend time alone with the protagonist.

“Hey doofus!”

Her moment of pleasant distraction is shattered by Sam’s shout, “stop staring into space like a fish and come souvenir shipping with us!”

Mika rolls her eyes at Sam’s insulting simile, “It’s called ‘thinking’, Sam, you should try it sometime.”

James smiles behind his book, sharing his secret glee at Sam’s sputtering response in a quick glance at Mika. Her heart does a little flutter at his smile.

Before she can recover control of her body, James shouts towards his brothers, “Don’t take too long! We’re meeting in the lobby for dinner at 6!” and motions her off with a tilt of his head.

Mika misses the hungry gaze cast over the top of his book, watching her every movement as she stretches and pulls a sundress over her swimsuit.

After shopping and dinner, Mika, Erik, and Damien are star gazing from the rooftop bar of their hotel. Each has been lost in their own thoughts since the others have gone to bed, quietly watching more and more stars blink into existence in the darkening sky.

“You know,” Damien says after several minutes of silence, “James is very good at planning”

Erik and Mika make small noises in acknowledgement to Damien stating the obvious. He continues, “but even he can’t plan a … spontaneous moment”

Mika’s face heats at the absolutely lewd inflection he managed to pack into such an innocuous word. Erik fails miserably at stifling giggles beside her.

“Maybe that’s something you can help him with.” Damien finishes casually.

Mika shoots to her feet indignant but also suddenly desperate to see James. She had been thinking about him all day, imagining how he might sweep her off her feet at any given moment. More often than not said sweeping landed her in bed with him. The mere mention of his name triggered a fresh wave of want inside her.

She stalks off in a pretend huff. Erik’s teasing words ring in her ears “Have fun~”

Alone in the elevator she wonders what kind of fun James would want to have.

 Mikas feet take her back to the hotel suite while her mind remains distracted by images of James.

Suddenly she’s standing in his empty room and all of her confidence evaporates in an instant. The door to the common area is ajar, did she open it? The lights are on, she’s pretty sure she didn’t do that.

James is nowhere in sight. Maybe that’s a good thing, she was too busy fantasizing to have any idea what she was going to say to him anyway. Mika turns to leave, resigned to try to take the edge off in the shower.

Mika’s exit is halted as she walks right into something. Hands are wrapped around her upper arms, keeping her from stumbling backwards.

Her focus snaps back to reality and onto James. His eyes are slightly wide in surprise. They’re almost hidden by damp black hair. A white towel drapes over his shoulders. His shoulders and arms are covered in a light blue satin pajama top that has yet to be buttoned.

Mika notices how her fingers are braced against the bare skin of his chest and her breath hitches.

James leans down until his nose is nearly touching Mika’s neck. He takes two slow, deep breaths. Each exhale sends shivers down her spine and sets her heart racing.

When he finally stands straight his pupils are wide. “You smell incredible”, his voice is quiet, but pitched deep, graveling against the bottom of his throat.

His words pull sharply at the need building inside of her. “I—I’ve been thinking about you.” Mika’s fingers move slowly up James’ chest.

Amber eyes seem to darken with James’ chuckle, “what have you been think that has you in such a …state?” His final word is accompanied by his heated gaze traveling slowly down Mika’s body.

Mika swears she can feel his eyes on her. Her nipples tighten as he gazes at her chest and an unbearable heat pulses between her thighs as he stared pointedly where she can feel wetness gathering in her bikini bottoms.

Mika can’t take the tension for one second longer. Her hands grab the back of James’ head and pull him down into a rough kiss. Her fingers roughly grip his damp hair as his tongue slides inside her mouth.

After a moment James straightens, “You know, It is quite improper for a young lady to be in a man’s bedroom so late at night.” His usual manners play with the flirtatious undertones of his words.

“What will people think?”, he continues.

Mika recognizes the out that he is giving her a chance to choose between the gentleman and the demon. A wicked grin breaks across her face, “They’ll think I’m the lucky girl who gets to fuck an incubus.”

Suddenly, Mika is pushed against the wall. She registers one of James’ hands under her ass while his hips pin hers. The other is gently guiding her jaw in a passionate kiss. Their mouths work in tandem for several long moments, every movement of James’ lips sends waves of heat crashing into her core.

When they finally break apart, flushed and panting, James’ eyes glow a warm gold. “May I?”

“Please” The word is barely out of Mika’s mouth before a warm tingling sensation rushes through her. The world slows as the enthrallment kicks in, Mika’s attention is focused solely on the demon between her legs, pining her to the wall.

 His eyes look fierce without glasses to soften them. Mika wonders how far she can push him. She starts by grabbing the towel around his neck and tossing it to the floor. Then her hands find his chest again and slide his open shirt off his shoulders. James carefully shifts his hold on her to let it fall to the floor while keeping Mika off the ground.

She takes in his form approvingly, trying her best to replicate how his gaze made her feel. Her eyes lock onto a bulge in the satin on his pants. One hand drifts lazily down his stomach before groping lower. Mika gasps as he twitches in her hand. His head thuds against the wall next to hers as he groans out her name.

“James!” her voice sounds desperate in her ears. His teeth come to the thin straps on her shoulder. A hand mirrors the motion on her other side and her bikini top and sundress are pulled down below her breasts.

James wastes no time in lavishing her breasts. The gentle circles of his tongue send energy spiraling down between her thighs.

Mika squirms in pleasure, searching desperately for friction to sate the burning in her core. Her hips buck forward and she slides against James’ hip.

“Don’t move or I’ll drop you!” James growls around her nipple. But he does release her other breast and slides his fingers along her inner thigh. When they reach her bikini bottoms, nimble fingers untie the knots at each hip before throwing the garment away.

Mika gasps as the cool air moves against her folds.

James locks eyes with her as one finger traces agonizing patterns around her clit. Mika bites her lip, and moans as she does her best to repress the desire to squirm under his touch.

Mika is growing hotter and hotter. Energy swirls from everywhere in her body down to the small bundle of nerves James is teasing and back out again. Every cycle is more intense than the last and Mika feels she may lose her mind from the pleasure if it goes on much longer. She dares not move and become unsecure in James’ grasp, but she does have one more tool in her arsenal.

“R—Raestrao!” she cries as another ripple of pleasure radiates from her core.

The incubus shudders almost imperceptibly as he pants open-mouthed. Mika sees a dangerous glint in his eyes that sends new shivers down to where James’ fingers have halted.

Mika hooks her fingers into his waistband and pushes it down. James’ cock springs free and bounces against her folds. The pair gasp at the sudden sensation.

In an instant James’ head is pressed into her. Mika squeezes her walls around him. His lips pull back in a snarl as he thrusts quickly into her. Mika chokes on a gasp at the sudden fullness, reveling in the slight twinge in her muscles that she’d never be able to achieve alone.

She’s allowed one more moment to adjust before James starts pushing into her at a punishing pace.

Mika lets her head fall back against the wall; her eyes screwed shut as she’s flooded with wave after wave of pleasure. Her dull nails carve into the flesh of James’ back, earning her another deep groan.

James shifts his feet and nails her against the wall. Mika’s energy swirls violently in her body funneling down to where she and James are connected. For a moment everything is white, Mika is floating in an ocean of tingling pleasure.

Then a dam breaks and Mika is screaming for James. She’s not sure which names she’s using, maybe both. She distantly realizes she hears her own name too.

A moment later, the hotel room comes back into focus. James slowly slides out from her, then leans her against his chest as he walks towards the bed. They collapse onto it unceremoniously.

They remain a sweaty pile of tangled limbs and heavy breathing for several minutes. Eventually, James brushes the hair out of Mika’s face, “love?”

His voice sounds so uncertain. Mika reassures him with a long and tender kiss. Her hands trace gently over his scalp. They share a warm smile as they finally break apart.

“You know, you’re pretty loud when you want to be. What will people think?” Mika finally finds the words to tease James who promptly blushes.

Just as he opens his mouth the respond, Matthew’s voice echoes from the other side of the wall, “They’ll think ‘please shut up and let the rest of us get some sleep!’”

[hype-blue-fixation]

Alastor's Family Headcannons/Breakdown + Predictions

These have been plaguing me for a while and I've done way too much history research

Family Life

Based on what Viv has said, Al is an only child and his race doesn't play into his story. Therefore, I think that the majority of his story and trauma are related to his family, WW1, the Great Depression, and just being mistreated by others in power. I have a whole thing about the war, guilt, radios (oh my!) but I will save those for another post.

The roaring 20's were an interesting time, because most Americans enjoyed a high quality of life and then were lined up at soup kitchens in the span of a decade. Al's family was probably no different. He knows what it's like to live with affluence, and he knows what it's like to beg for food. Especially if he was too young for the army draft, he would've been able to be by his mom's side at her richest and poorest. See life through the female perspective, in a time where women had been seen as a commodity for men and just now proving their worth as a valuable part of the workforce. This is why he's far more sympathetic toward women but doesn't give men ANY excuses.

Father Relationship

This is the one I'm really excited to talk about lol. So while American men of the time did legitimately love their wives, there was also this entitlement attitude. If you're a good fella, you deserve a good woman. Toxic masculinity ran rampant, leading to a lot of emotionally challenged men. Their self-worth was tied to how well they could provide for their families. I personally think that Al's dad suffered with some kind of anger disorder and probably some generational trauma. But, being a product of his time, he internalized all this stress instead of facing it, especially when times got hard and he couldn't do all the things a man ought to do. So while he did legitimately love his family and want to be a good husband, it manifested in verbal abuse, exerting control over his family, and sometimes even physical abuse. Because of this, Alastor has a natural mistrust/hate for any man who exerts control over others, while ironically becoming this type of man himself. He just wants to think he's better than that. It can also explain why Al is so amused by the concept of redemption. He saw his own dad, who legitimately wanted to be a better man, constantly try and fail. His dad was a product of his place and time, and no amount of "wanting to be better" was good enough. Add in the factor of war: Al's dad had this positive "I'll be home before Christmas" attitude and everything would be alright. And then crap hit the fan, worse became worst, and whatever effort Al's dad was making before was just non-existent. Completely and totally consumed by anger and hatred, and his family taking the brunt of it. Alastor's very first murder came shortly after.

Predictions

Here's some predictions for how Alastor's dad can be handled in the show, and I'm honestly down for any of them being cannon.

Alastor being responsible for both of his dad's deaths. They meet up in Hell during an extermination. His dad would be begging for forgiveness and second chances, but Al cold-heartedly shoves him out and watches him get stabbed.

Dad becomes an overlord, but never shows up to any of the meetings because he doesn't want to confront his son. At some point he decides to give redemption one last try at the hotel, but Al gives him absolute HELL the entire way and refuses to forgive him.

While he didn't make the best decisions, Al's dad truly did want redemption and to do the right thing. This was enough to get him into Heaven, and Alastor finds out about this at some point and CAN NOT process HOW his father got into Heaven, or how he's responsible for sending him there. Bro can't cope.