#Man I can't believe it's been so long...not that it's been that long for me but. Still.

[mrfancyfoot]

Today I logged into facebook for the first time in nearly 4 years and went through every profile in my friends list (like ~300) and purged out all the assholes (anyone who openly voted for Trump, other conservatives, and those who I strongly believe did). I've done this before so there weren't many but there are a number that have been wishy-washy with being outward in their bigotry and it helps me keep a mental list of people that deserve only the most very basic level of respect that I can muster because they certainly do not respect me nor people I care about nor many of their fellow human beings. Most disheartening is seeing friends and family who continue to put effort into engaging with people who argue in bad faith and weaponized ignorance.

I dated a man for nearly a year who went to women's and pro-choice rallies and liberal groups with me and said many times that he "was on my side" but turned out to be lying the whole time because he knew I definitely wouldn't date him otherwise. I'd known him for years before since we ran in the same friend circle. I wasn't the only one he had fooled. He slowly lifted the mask until we were constantly arguing because of his bigoted and racist remarks. His favorite thing to do was act oppressed and show me the most obvious Russian propaganda that he would get upset at me for fact-checking and asking for real sources. He wanted to argue, so what he hated most was when I refused to argue with him. Nothing I said was going to change his mind, so I wasn't going to humor or tolerate it (we didn't last long after that point, but by that time, I was afraid of leaving without an excuse that would be "good enough" for him). He legitimately wants civil war so that he can play survival hero and feel validated in his hatred. It didn't come on quickly and a lot of the comments started as "odd" off the cuff things through the time that we dated. He was very much pretending to be a kind person and once really called out, that pretense dropped. He thought I was more like him and that a lot of my regard and kindness for others is "fake." Because that's what a lot of people like that do - they fake being kind for optics, they are not actually kind people, and therefore presume that everyone else is doing the same thing. It's given me major trust issues.

Can't say this enough: these people feel validation in their bigotry when you continue to associate with them. They need to be dropped. They need to learn that their shitty beliefs mean that they get shunned. Make them feel uncomfortable. Quit tiptoeing around and coddling their delicate little feelings because they might get upset. It's okay for them to get upset because someone was mean and told them they don't like them because they think gay and trans people shouldn't exist. I once made a post about how a raped 11 year old child should never be expected to give birth, was told that it was "god's will" and like 5 people piled on the guy so badly he told us to stop being "mean" to him and was terrified to talk to me at work ever again (I have since cut all ties and no longer work with him). I'm personally extremely tired of playing nice for the sake of possibly "converting" someone - especially because you can be polite in telling someone to fuck off with their beliefs. Their beliefs are dangerous, are going to result in people losing their lives, and a frightening number of them are completely okay with that. We need to stop being tolerant of intolerance. It is okay to cut people (including family) from your life when all their presence does is bring you stress and harm.

In a similar vain, don't let the people who chose not to vote (or "protest voted") stick their heads in the sand to escape blame. They are just as culpable as anyone else who directly voted for Trump and other conservatives. They need to grow the fuck up.

For a lot of liberals, it's really uncomfortable to be confrontational and feel like you're being intolerant of someone, but it's way past time to play hardball and call them out instead of coddling them, especially as we're going into the holiday season where many of us will be seeing family with shitty views and targeted family that may need someone to stand up for them. Let them know they're shitty and inappropriate and a disappointment and unworthy of your regard because they certainly lack it for others. Obviously still be safe, but many of us very likely aren't losing anything of value in that scenario. Not having bigoted family members in my life in any way has made me so much happier.

A helpful tip to those who may find themselves in a confrontation: do not stay engaged. Let your views be known and then disengage. Because many of them love to argue and feel like they're defending themselves (many are addicted to those feelings of hatred and overcoming "oppression"), what they don't like is being ignored and feeling like you're rinsing your hands of them. They don't deserve your stress and constant efforts. There are ways to open a dialogue when they are willing to discuss civilly with an open mind, but if they bring intolerance, just shut it down.

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[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Teasing will get you Somewhere

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

Warnings/Mentions: Blue balls, Dark/Rough!Daryl, sexual teasing (Daryl receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, manhandling, biting, blood blisters, spanking, bruising, it might smell like dubcon but it's not

Summary: Reader wants to see Daryl at his breaking point, teasing and depriving him of release until he gets there. 

Notes: I loved writing this so much. While trying to think of a plot for dark!Daryl I remembered this idea/prompt someone had like 5 years ago where the reader teases a guy until he cracks and just goes crazy. I think it was a fanfiction, but I looked through my bookmarks and ao3 history and couldn't find anything like this so if you know what I'm talking about please let me know!!

All you wanted from the start was to see Daryl snap. He was such an aggressive loudmouthed man, but not in the way you wanted him to be. 

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs. 

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint. 

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like. 

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move. 

That simply wouldn't do. 

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent. 

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you. 

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.” 

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags. 

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water. 

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest. 

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips. 

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned. 

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory. 

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis. 

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests. 

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life. 

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process. 

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips. 

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic. 

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth. 

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?” 

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands. 

“Give me your hand.” 

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs. 

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis. 

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.” 

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while. 

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh. 

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans. 

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else. 

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course. 

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips. 

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy. 

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing. 

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.” 

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted. 

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless. 

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.” 

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.” 

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough. 

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.” 

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his. 

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him. 

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin. 

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves. 

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted. 

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement. 

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda. 

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise. 

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum. 

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. 

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room. 

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied. 

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer. 

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder. 

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point. 

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing. 

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction. 

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck. 

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right. 

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.” 

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against. 

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you. 

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.” 

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?” 

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again. 

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.” 

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow. 

But he still hadn't cracked. 

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.” 

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is. 

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?” 

You forced a nod. 

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive. 

He looked so fed up. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered. 

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you. 

“Don't want you to beg.” 

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away. 

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans. 

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him. 

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity. 

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb. 

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location. 

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water. 

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back. 

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.” 

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank. 

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action. 

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.” 

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan. 

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding. 

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented. 

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to. 

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder. 

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax. 

He withdrew his finger and you whined. 

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.” 

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised. 

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel. 

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger. 

“Ew!” You gasped. 

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor. 

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest. 

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further. 

“Y-you said you had condoms.” 

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs. 

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath. 

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body. 

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man. 

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.” 

You didn't. Not one bit. 

“But I know ya'aint.” 

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut. 

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation. 

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips. 

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust. 

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace. 

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had. 

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made. 

“Get up.” 

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked. 

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed. 

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust. 

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath. 

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough. 

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!” 

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation. 

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.” 

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red. 

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache. 

“Point stands.” 

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist. 

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest. 

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped. 

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.  

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans. 

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle. 

“More.” 

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you? 

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound. 

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on. 

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.” 

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?” 

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.” 

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air. 

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly. 

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it. 

It was barely a love tap. 

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick. 

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.” 

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip. 

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch. 

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine. 

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless. 

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again. 

And again. 

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him. 

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick. 

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.” 

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling. 

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you. 

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you. 

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like. 

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate. 

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss. 

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping. 

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together. 

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation. 

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.” 

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back. 

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it. 

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat. 

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing. 

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head. 

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision. 

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh-  fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-” 

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you. 

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it. 

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl. 

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size. 

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips. 

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back. 

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek. 

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.” 

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses. 

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own. 

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled. 

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.” 

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 14 - Next

"Today you look much better."

You mentioned Curly smiling at you and resting your forehead against his.

"You've stopped smelling like a cremated corpse, it must feel so good to have clean bandages and your wounds disinfected."

You closed your eyes with a smile, enjoying being close to him without having to move away because of the overwhelming stench he used to emit.

Curly: "...I...wa...wann..."

You suddenly opened your eyes upon hearing the sound of a voice, leaned back, and fell backward to the ground with the chair and all.

"No! Don't you dare! Don't do that again! That scared me!"

You stood up and quickly adjusted the chair to sit back down in front of him.

You opened his jaw to see his tongue and pressed it with your thumb to be able to see his throat.

"Nu-uh, your throat is still damaged, don't talk, I don't care."

He let out a huff when you said that.

"Did you just huff at me??? In these conditions, are you giving me an attitude??"

For some reason, it seemed like he was enjoying your reaction.

"Oh, you like seeing me angry now?? What are you trying to do?" 

You raised your hands when you asked that question, and he kept staring at your left hand, letting out a murmur upon noticing the rings on it.

"Mm? This? I found it when I tried to see if anything could be useful from the cockpit..."

You looked at your hand, seeing the rings, you had almost completely forgotten that you had his with you.

You took it out slowly and showed it to him up close.

"Now I'm not so angry about the fortune you spent on these rings, if they withstood an explosion they are of very good quality."

You smiled at him, lovingly observing the ring, remembering the day he proposed to you and knowing that from that moment your life would change forever.

"Who would have thought we would end up like this? Mm? I can say it, when I was little I never imagined I would go to space. Although i did dream of a handsome husband"

You could notice a hint of sadness in the sigh he gave, quite aware of his current state and that he would never be the same man as before.

"Do you still have doubts? If I will still be by your side when we return home?" 

His gaze turned to you when you mentioned that, it wasn't a lie, he had been thinking about that possibility.

"Do you think the only thing that made me fall in love with you was your pretty little face? Can't you believe that I can still love you seeing you like this?"

You smiled, resting your forehead against his again, looking directly into his eye.

"I didn't believe it either, when you met me, I was a mess, a drug addict, disheveled, stinky, and with a terrible attitude, I have to admit it... But that didn't stop you from falling in love with me, did it?" 

He rolled his eye to try to avoid your gaze.

You put his ring back on your ring finger next to yours.

"The day he wants to leave you, I'll take off this ring, okay? Until then, I don't want you to worry." 

You kissed his forehead, ready to go get the rations for the day.

Curly: "...I... I- I'm sho-.rry..."

"What did I just tell you a few minutes ago?? Nothing to talk about." 

You crossed your arms and shook your head.

Curly: "...I lo..ve you..."

Hearing those words again after so long, your cheeks began to burn, you turned your face because you didn't want him to see you with tears in your eyes, about to cry from joy.

"Me too! Don't forget it!"

You mentioned loudly, quickly leaving that room, took a deep breath, and leaned against the wall, unable to believe you were reacting the same way as when he first told you.

Daisuke: "Captain, are you okay?"

"Ah-! Daisuke, don't just show up out of nowhere! What do you need?"

Daisuke: "Do you want to swap my meat noodles for your cheese ones?"

He smiled, showing you the package of his food; it seemed that Swansea had gotten ahead and had already distributed the rations.

"Sure, sure... Go change it."

Daisuke: "Thank you! You're the best!"

You sighed, resting your head against the wall.

"Just a little more... I'm already getting sick of that food... I need to cook something real..."

[star2fishmeg]

more luke x inexperienced reader thoughts/situations please😩😩😩 you just capture it so well

The second his tongue flicked over your clit you were gone. But he was sweet, instantly pulling back when you gasped and jolted onto your elbows, telling him to let you have a few seconds before you both started and your reassurance that it was just a new kind of bliss soothed his nerves. After all, as he'd said, if you wanted to stop, all you had to do was tell him to stop and he would. He couldn't fathom why no man had ever wanted to go down on you, if your lips tasted so sweet and addicting, your words heart-throbbing and your heart so warm it challenged the purpose of the fireplace, Luke believed that the rest of you was just as exquisite.

Now he's devouring you like he's been starved for months. One thigh over his shoulder, hand flat on your lower stomach where his thumb settles above your throbbing clit, ready to pull those whines from you when you're suppressing them. His lips run along the inside of your other, long fingers firmly holding it open to allow his tongue to run over the purple bruises littered over the soft skin, kissing them tenderly as if he'd left them to mark his territory.

He presses his lips to one of the larger hickeys, closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale, his eyelashes fluttering over your nerves, sending those little bursts of ecstasy to your stomach.

"All mine, all fuckin' mine," he murmurs lowly into your skin, voice husky and you watch him visibly exhale and turn back to your pussy, eyes slowly opening to become half-lidded and his breathing tickles over your clit. He's thriving in the way your chest rises and falls deeply, still catching your breath from how he's already run his tongue through you. "You wanna keep going?"

"Yeah...please." You nod, your voice airy and quiet.

The pad of his thumb circles your clit, eyes burning into yours reassuringly as he lowers lips into your folds, eventually breaking the contact to bury his face and lap at your arousal, hot tongue licking through your folds languidly, "No one's gonna know how fuckin' delectable you are, taste like heaven."

His voice vibrates, and you lull your head back, your mouth falling open as if you've lost the ability to control the muscle. Luke removes his thumb and lets his nose bump your bundle of nerves rhythmically. You let little elongated whimpers slip from your throat, hands balling into fists as you adjust on your elbows.

"You like that?" Luke looks up, curls almost shading his eyes, "Baby I can stop, just tell me you wanna stop and I'll-,"

"-Don't stop! God, don't stop," you desperately interrupt with the deep-rooted lust you've been pushing down breaking through, "feels so fuckin' good, Lu,"

He nods and his head dips again, lips pressing against your clit tenderly and sucking, finding pleasure in your wanton moans that ring through his ears.

"Make such pretty noises," you feel his smirk against your cunt, "can't hear you, baby, you're allowed to enjoy it."

And gradually, with every lap your whining becomes louder, needier, freakier until you aren't holding back anymore, especially when his tongue slips deeper inside of you. Your fingers slide into his curls automatically, tugging harshly a heat surges through you, sweat forming on the back of your neck and the sight of him between your thighs, nodding as his hand presses down on your stomach, suddenly creates a tightness inside.

"Do that again, fuck, please." Luke's voice breaks your trance.

"Huh?" you pant.

"Pull my hair again, like when you do that, doesn't hurt m'kay." He rasps before returning to plunging his tongue inside your pussy insatiably.

So, you do. You tug, pull, grip, let your nails rake through his scalp and you push his head further into you and he's relishing in every second of it, his hips rutting into his own mattress to give his dick some sort of friction. You can't believe that you probably would have never known this kind of paradise if it wasn't for Luke. It's his favourite place to hide, to refuge and if you tasted bad, he wouldn't be so close to pulling an orgasm from you.

Throwing your head back with a lazy smile, you close your other thigh around his head, "Yours, all yours, Lu, feel s'good."

"Mhm, pretty pussy's all mine."

He's right. The first and last man to ever taste you, make you ascend with just his tongue alone and God, you could die like this, and you wouldn't be mad. Luke, the only man to have your arousal and cum drip from his face shamelessly, beg for more, a round two on the first time.

[lastoneout]

Hey so uh y'all know this is straight up radfem rhetoric that will do fuck all to actually combat the rise of fascism in this country while putting young people further at risk of being indoctrinated into conservatisim, right? Like this is 100% the basis of political lesbianism and is a direct pipeline to becoming a fucking TERF which is a direct pipeline to holding hands with Nazis, we should NOT be supporting or promoting the idea that the only way for women to be safe is to completely isolate themselves from men, especially in the coming years where unity with our allies, a group which includes men, will be the key to survival for so many people. The state of the world right now is based in part on the rampant spread of individualism and exclusion and distrust, why the hell would perpetuating that help??

Also this alienates women who cannot or will not abandon their connections to men(wanting to marry and love and have sex and children with men is morally neutral) and strips us of our ability to find allyship with marginalized men who are on our side and also will face extreme violence under this new administration. This will cut us off from black men and disabled men and intersex men and queer men and will absolutely be used as justification to completely fucking abandon trans men, who have already been completely abandoned by current mainstream feminism to the point that I cannot go five seconds without someone saying reproductive rights are an issue that only affects women when that is in NO way the case. Basically no one has been including trans mascs/men, nonbinary people, and intersex people in the abortion and birth control discussion this election cycle despite those groups needing just as much help and support on this front and that is a PROBLEM. Like trans men and intersex people who can get pregnant are going to be at a hellish level of risk going forward, infinitely more so than the average cishet perisex woman. We cannot abandon them further.

Plus for some of us marriage will potentially keep us safer or help us escape this country should we need to, I'm disabled and can't work I cannot just move to another country, but if I get married and my fiancé goes first and finds a job that can support us both that will help me. And like you can also get married to a man and still refuse to have kids in protest? Most of the people in our generation aren't having kids anyway? And tbh those of us who want to are not bad people nor should we have to put our entire lives on hold for god knows how long to stick it to the men. We live in hell right now, why the fuck should we be asking people to completely abandon things that could make them happy in a weird form of protest that won't work and is a gateway to being a raging Nazi transphobe??

And on top of all of that this also lets the hundreds of thousands of women who voted for Trump on purpose because they too have bought in to his rhetoric off the hook, which again, is where radical feminism leads because it is fundamentally based on the idea that men are always dangerous and harmful no matter what but women are always innocent brainwashed victims who can do no harm. And writing off men as a lost cause who are evil by nature and thus cannot be saved is also not only radical feminist bullshit, it's legit just conservative "boys will be boys" bullshit with a progressive hat. I am not giving shitty men a free pass to suck forever by pretending they are incapable of change, they can, should, and MUST be held to a higher standard. That is what I mean when I say radical feminisim is a conservative ideology, it doesn't believe a better world is possible because it assumes men will always be evil and should be avoided at all costs which upholds the status quo, it does nothing to actually challenge it.

(And hell, if all that wasn't enough, this is also flawed because the kinds of women who are left leaning enough to consider doing something like this likely already only associate with progressive men, so who are we even punishing here? No woman riding the tradwife MAGA waterslide is going to do this, so the only men who get punished are the good ones who are on our side, which helps who, exactly?? Like christ y'all this falls the fuck apart so fast the second you actually think about it.)

There are men who will be my allies in the coming years and women who will be my enemy. Women are just as capable of being bigoted fascist pieces of shit as men are, this election proved that. We waited for women to save us and most of them fucking didn't. How the hell am I supposed to believe women are inherently safer or better while looking at the breakdown of what demographics voted for Trump. Some of the most vile, traumatizing misogyny and biphobia I have faced in my life was at the hands of other women and some of the most outspoken feminists who work tirelessly to tear apart the patriarchy I know are men. My fiancé, a cis man, legit checked MY toxic masculinity yesterday, I recently came out as butch and have been trying to live up to that by staying as strong as possible right now, and HE had to tell me to knock it off and let myself cry. Gender and sex are not indicators of morality and acting like they are is pure, unadulterated radical feminist bullshit.

We can and should absolutely talk about the rise of alt-right beliefs amongst men in this country, especially young men, but we cannot ignore that young women are buying into that shit too and a lot of it is COMING FROM RADICAL FEMINISTS, I cannot fucking stress enough radical feminism is a direct pipeline to becoming a conservative, the TERF to tadwife waterslide is real and likely WHY so many young women are voting conservatively. The more we concede to this rancid bullshit the more women wander directly into the alt-right's open arms.

The problem isn't men, it's systemic misogyny perpetuated by both men AND women, and also fascism. Don't lose sight of the true enemy.

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dumping some thoughts about emmrich romance

I'm replaying the game for the second time and just hit the graveyard smooch scene regarding lichdom/parents and again I am romancing emmrich and I've picked up on alot of extra meaning for him.

whilst it's established that emmrich has been in relationships before, I - fail to believe that he has been in love before.

Emmrich reacts with so much fear (regardless of path) to rook dying and or outliving him (I.e., losing eachother) before the final battle. like an incredible amount and in those moments he can't bring himself to say how he feels because he's scared of primarily how stronglyhe feels for rook. And considering how sentimental emmrich is, he is an overthinker and I'm sure you can imagine the anxiety thumping in his chest. if he is a lich, he is evidently even more scared of rook dying and him having to "mourn them forever". long story short, man has a crippling case of a fear of abandonment.

keep in mind that this is a man who has said "I'm careful with the words I choose" and then is not careful with the words he chooses at all in that scene because he is just unhinged with fear of losing rook one way or another - hence the desperate plea at an apology mid battle

whilst I am replaying the graveyard scene it's so evident he cares, and do not ever chose to break up there and then because you will never stop crying, and it's so evident that he is looking for rook to go yes yes yes I want to make you happy, I accept you if you go lich king, ya know?

He is such a complex character and I love that, I love his layers, the deep, raw layers of his emotions for rook

this is a man who looks at rook and sees that he has finally met his soulmate, and is so scared of losing them and the fact that the two paths for him is either 1 of 2, 1) you help him accept the time that you will have left together or 2) you spend a potentially significantly longer period of time together but he must live with that grief forever

Either way it's heartbreaking and the only thing that makes it better is emmrich (lich) going, "find eachother in every world" aka the fade when rook passes, which royally fucked me up emotionally

I love them, and my rook will be applying for lichdom ty

[onim5]

Invicible Pain

Portgas D. Ace x reader

Warnings: Emotional pain. Swear word.

I believe this is fluff and a little angst.

Gender is never mentioned.

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

"If Gold Roger had a kid, we kill him."

"It be a demon child, we would have the marines execute him, immediately."

"Ha! The Marines made sure no such brat existed."

"The last thing we need is another monster."

"Such a brat doesn't deserve to live."

Boink!

"Aw, frick. What was that for?!" Ace asks, frustrated, looking at you and the book you hit him with.

Boink!

"Hey, stop that!" Ace demands. Holding up his hands so he be ready to defend himself.

"No, not until you stop being stupid." You growl, trying to hit him again with the book.

"The hell did I do now?" Ace whines. He hadn't stolen your food. . . . . yet, and when he does, you don't get this mad. Did he perhaps forget something important?

Boink!

"Oh, come on! At least tell me." Ace hiss.

"You know what you're doing!" You yelled. . . . . Ace looked at you in shock. This was the first time you were actually mad at him, and you yelled. . . . Ace felt how he tensed up. He must have messed up badly, but with what?!

"Y/n, I am really sorry for what I did, and I promise to never do it again."

Boink!

Ace's stomach felt like a heavy bag filled with stones. Whatever he did, he deserves this. He deserves death. . . .

"Now you're doing it again!" You yell, hugging him instead.

"Stop, . . . . Just stop with the self-hatred." You plea, hugging him tight. Ace felt blank. . . . . He didn't move. He couldn't.

"Ace? . . ." You call out as your eyes tried to make contact with his. All you found, though, was an empty space. His gaze was somewhere else internally. He looked hollow, but you knew he was full. Full of emotions others had given and created to him. Emotions he himself had stabilized brick by brick.

Ace eyes finally reached yours, his arms hesitatantly started hugging you back. But he didn't say anything. It was the first time someone had said it out to him. That someone had pointed it out. . . . . He wants to deny it, but he can't.

"How did you know?" Ace whispers, his voice barely adiuoable. You could feel his nails dig into you in a desperate way. He was longing for support but never showed or told anyone he needed it.

"I, I can tell. You get that dark gaze on your expression. Ace, I can feel your invisible pain. It's in your aura." You answer, hugging him more gently, more lovingly.

"I'm see-through? Like glass?" He stutters, a feeling of pathetic and failure dawning on him.

"No, you're not. Your really fucking hard to see through. You're solid with hundreds of walls. But, there's small cracks . . . . And, and I know that there's a door. Please, Ace, let me in."

And that's what he did. In his room, on his bed, he laid a little spoon in your lap. Your fingers caressing his hair with so much care and love? Listening to his story. You never gave him a reaction, just patiently sat and patted him. And so, he accidentally told you everything. About who he was and what he have become.

"I'm a monster." He murrmur, his voice broken and bitter. You didn't say anything, but your hands went to his cheeks and rubbed them gently. Ace can't stop the overwhelming feelings inside. He couldn't stop the quiet tears of pain that covered your loving hands. He couldn't stop . . . . . Finally, he tried to break out of your touch, but both you and a huge part of him stopped it.

"Why, why are you doing this? Why aren't you judging me? I'm a crying man. It's pathetic." He scoffs, once more trying to break out of your touch and love.

"Because your words have been mostly lies. Either your own or someone else's. You're a man, but also a human. you're allowed to cry. It is simply natural." You state, trapping his body in a hug.

"What do you mean?" He asks, his large hand grabbing yours.

"People's feelings have created lies, lies that have reached your ears. Their fear for Roger, a man most actually never met. Has created lies and opinions about you. And you have slowly started agreeing and building up these lies within you. It's time for you to start taking down that huge wall. I don't care if it has to be done brick by brick. Do you know why?" Ace shakes his head, his eyes looking at you.

"Because I love you."

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

This was inspired by @captainportgasdace. Thank you. - onim5

Masterlist

[actuallysaiyan]

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, werewolf AU, knotting, rough sex, possessive and yandere themes, bodily fluids, oral sex(fem receiving) pairings: Werewolf!All Smite/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader

pspspspspspsps @cogentsummoner

He’s been chasing you for sometime. The most dangerous man in Japan, if not the whole world, has been chasing you in the forest for hours. All Smite, the Symbol of Fear…who would have guessed he was afflicted with Lycanthropy?

“P-please, I’ll do anything! I can give you money!” You try to reason with the beast that’s hot on your tail.

He howls loudly, “Shut up! You knew what this was…you knew what you were doing.”

He manages to pin you down in the dirt. This isn’t how you wanted things to go. You knew you were in love with the man, but you wanted to help him with this in your home. Not here on the forest floor. Still, you can't help but run your fingers through his hair and the fur on his back.

“You said you’d help me,” he whines against your ear before he nuzzles his snout in the curve of your neck. “Please…”

When he begs you like this, you’re not able to tell him no. He never begs for anything. Not unless he’s in a rut like this. Already he’s humping you, desperate to feel a little stimulation. His cock has been aching for so long, and he knows he’s going to knot inside of you.

“Don’t…don’t abandon me,” his voice sounds so desperate.

The kiss you share is sloppy. His tongue is so deep in your mouth, making you moan as it tangles with yours. You can’t believe you’re going to go through with this. The last time you helped him during a rut was pretty brutal. You needed to take a week off. And you weren’t just lying down on the ground and taking it. No sense backing out now, you love the man.

He peels off your clothes, his claws really close to tearing them off but he’s trying to be good to you. When you praise him and rub his fur, his tail begins to wag. Toshinori has been alone most of his life, but when he found you, it was the happiest day of his life.

“Need to breed,” he growls. His voice is starting to become distorted.

You nod and tell him he can breed you. He takes off his torn jeans, showing you the leaking member that’s eager to slide deep inside you. He spreads your thighs forcefully and then leans in to take a deep inhale of your scent.

You let out a squeal when he begins to devour you. You know he’s trying his best to get you wet to take him, despite the fact that he would so eagerly begin pounding away into you like his life depended on it. His tongue curls deep inside your pussy, reaching spots that make you see stars.

When he finds you wet enough, he’s penetrating you with a deep need. You cry out, your hands scrambling to grab onto the loose dirt beneath you to keep you grounded. Smite begins to growl as he starts off at a very harsh pace. Your insides are being rearranged by the giant beast on top of you.

“Need to breed, need to fuck…fuck and cum…fuck and cum…” he huffs in your ear as he has you folded in half.

Smite can’t help but to fuck you into the ground. Your pussy pulsates around him, making him howl in pleasure. His claws are dangerously close to piercing your tender skin. He’s growling loudly in your ear, moaning and whining that he just needs to breed you.

“Please please…gonna cum…gonna cum!” He grunts.

He pushes so deep inside of you, you swear he’s trying to enter your cervix. With the tip pressed up against such a sensitive spot, he begins flooding your little pussy full of cum. He howls loudly, and then he slumps against you.

You play with his hair weakly. He’s huffing softly, and then you feel his knot swelling inside of you. Smite grins wolfishly at you, his eyes are glowing.

“Such a precious little mate.” He kisses you. “Gonna have my pups, right?”

How can you say no?

[reasonsweweresinging]

Dean couldn't believe he was doing this. But it was impossible to resist his kid when his kid was crying, and Chase had been crying for twenty minutes. Chase’s favorite doll, an alien-bird-human hybrid thing drawn up by some kid in another country and created by IKEA that Chase had lost his mind over at the store, was desperately ill according to him and Dean didn't have the credentials to fix it. 

"We have to see Dr. Cas!" Chase cried, beseeching his father to help him get whatever was wrong with Wallace fixed. Dean had no idea where the name Wallace came from, but Chase was insistent that was the damn thing's name. 

It was almost 9 pm on a Sunday night and Dean doubted his pediatrician neighbor two doors down needed an unexpected visit to cure a...Wallace. "Bud, maybe Dr. Cas can't even help fix Wallace. He's not fully human."

"Dr. Cas sweared to me he could fix anything! I know he can fix Wallace, we have to go see him!" Chase’s big hazel eyes, courtesy of his mother and still somehow so similar to Dean's brother, swam with tears that rolled down his cheeks in fat drops. "Please, Dad!"

Dean couldn't resist. He couldn't deny his son. Maybe because he was a pediatrician, Dr. Cas would at least be patient enough to turn them away kindly. His neighbor hating him was a risk Dean was willing to take for his son. So Dean helped Chase bundle Wallace in a blanket, got both he and Chase into their coats, and walked them to Dr. Cas's door two houses over. The front porch light was still on, and through the rectangular frosted glass panel alongside the door, Dean could see other lights were on in the home. Maybe it wasn't too late. While Chase hugged Wallace tightly to his chest, Dean rang the doorbell and hoped once more his neighbor wouldn’t be a jerk for being disturbed so late. 

The lights blurring together behind the glass panel brightened, as if a light near the door turned on. A moment later, the locks on the door turned and Dean took a deep breath. But it was punched out of him the minute Dr. Cas appeared in the doorway. Dean had only caught glimpses of the man in the few months since he'd moved in, but never seen him fully and up close. Chase had talked to him when his mother was dropping him off one evening, as Dr. Cas was returning from a run. Seeing Dr. Cas now, Dean was certain it was because his ex-wife was trying to stop Dr. Cas to hit on him. Dean could not blame her. The dark, wild hair, the bright blue eyes, the full, soft pink lips set against warm skin and dark stubble. He was gorgeous. He was damn near perfect. And he was saying something and Dean was just staring at him.

Dean snapped out of it, just in time to hear the tail end of Dr. Cas asking his son what was wrong in a voice that was too gentle to be so deep and worn. Was Dr. Cas even real?

"Wallace is sick!" Chase cried, shoving the doll in the face of Dr. Cas. "You can fix him, right?"

Dr. Cas looked at the doll, understandably perplexed, then set those incredible blue eyes on Dean. He started to say something but stopped short, staring back at Dean for a long, unnerving moment. Dean felt himself getting lost in those eyes, but Chase crying again beside him kept him anchored to the moment. He cleared his throat, which snapped Dr. Cas back into the present as well. 

"Sorry, Doc," Dean started, "Chase insisted we come see you so you could help cure Wallace." He gave Dr. Cas a small, apologetic smile, ready for Dr. Cas to turn them away with some excuse; it was late and he had any number of things to do, he had a family to tend to, he didn't have whatever tools he needed to help Wallace and they could try again later. Something like that. 

Instead, Dr. Cas gave a small smile and looked back at Chase, taking a gentle hold of the doll. "Well, Chase, you did the right thing. I can help Wallace, but you're going to have to be my nurse, is that okay?"

Chase looked up in awe at Dr. Cas and gave an eager nod. "I can help! I'm a good helper!"

Dr. Cas smiled wide, his gums showing, nose wrinkling, and Dean felt his heart stutter. "I'll bet you are. With your help, I'm sure we'll make Wallace all better. Why don't you do me a favor and take Wallace inside. If you go straight back, you can wait with him on the couch." 

Dr. Cas gingerly handed back Wallace to Chase, and with a loud "Thank you!,” Chase ran into the house and, as Dean noted, peeking around Cas to watch him go, followed the directions and ran straight back. 

"I'm Castiel Novak," Dr. Cas said, extending hand with a little smile. 

Dean took it and gave it a firm shake. "Uh, Dean. Winchester. That's my boy Chase. Sorry to just interrupt your night like this. Please apologize to your wife for me "

Dr. Cas tilted his head to the side, that soft smile still on his face, curious. "No, no wife," he said with a shrug. "Or husband."

Enlightenment dawned on Dean's features and that last little statement had his brain running a mile a minute. "Oh. Sorry, didn't mean to assume."

"It's fine," Dr. Cas assured him. "Please, come in. I'm sure Chase is growing antsy. Has he told you any of Wallace's symptoms?"

Dean, stepping inside, paused at the question, at the genuine way Dr. Cas was regarding him, waiting for a response. He wasn't just humoring Chase, he seemed to be genuinely trying to help fix a weird, stuffed doll. Dean couldn't decide if that made the guy a weirdo or an angel masquerading as a doctor. 

Fully inside, Dean waited for Dr. Cas to close the door and began to follow him back towards Chase. "He said something about Wallace having fireskin and a knotty belly."

"I see, that does sound serious. But I'm sure with Chase's help, we'll get Wallace fixed right up." Though his tone was genuine, there was still a curl of a smile on Dr. Cas's lips. "Does Chase have an active imagination?"

"Crazy active," Dean said with a hint of mirth. Chase was always battling some evil or winning some championship or saving some planet from destruction; usually Dean was the evil, the loser, the destructor that needed defeating, but every now and again he got to be his kid's sidekick, and those were the best times. 

"That should come in very handy," Dr. Cas said as they neared the living room where Chase waited. Seated on the couch, as asked, his doll held close to his chest, Chase watched them both enter, looking earnestly at Dr. Cas as if waiting for a miracle. Dr. Cas approached the couch and knelt down in front of Chase. "Are you ready to assist me?" he asked. "It's going to be hard work, but I know you can do it."

Chase nodded, the bangs of his sandy blonde hair falling over his eyes. He brushed them haphazardly off his forehead and Dean could only shake his head. "I just wanna help Wallace." 

It was decided Dean had to wait in the waiting room (the living room) while Chase and Dr. Cas used the operating room (the kitchen), just to Dean’s left and a few feet above. Dr. Cas helped Chase prepare by cleaning the counter with him and washing their hands, while gently and easily explaining the need for cleanliness, not just in surgery, but in life. They laid Wallace out on the kitchen counter and Chase was just tall enough to help without needing something to boost him up.

Dean did his best to play up his worry, especially when Chase looked over at him. But he was mostly watching Dr. Cas, mesmerized. While he was in control of the happenings, every choice they made was made by Chase through a series of related questions from Dr. Cas. That night, Chase wasn't saving a planet or scoring the final points to win it all, but he was still a hero. 

When it was all said and done, when Wallace's fireskin had been cooled and his knotty belly untangled, both Chase and Dr. Cas came to share the results with Dean. Dean hammed it up a little in his relief, but his effusive praise of his son's ingenuity and quick-thinking was genuine. And he noticed Dr. Cas seemed to be watching him now, much the way he'd been doing with the pediatrician earlier. 

With Wallace bundled back up tightly in his blanket and feeling much better, Chase was in a hurry to leave so they could read a book and get all the rest that Dr. Cas said Wallace would need to help him recover. Dean got both he and his son back into their coats and Chase led the way to the door, Dr. Cas following them all. 

"Thank you," Dean said quietly, so that maybe only Dr. Cas could hear him. "I hope we didn't ruin your night."

Dr. Cas just gave him a smile and shook his head. "On the contrary, you livened it up quite a bit."

Reaching the door, Chase turned and threw his arms around Dr. Cas's waist. "Thank you for helping Wallace."

Though surprised at first, Dr. Cas's face melted into something softer, and he ran a hand over the back of Chase's head. "I could only help because you were such a great nurse. I hope you and Wallace have many happy days together."

"We will!"

With a chuckle, Dr. Cas reached for the door handle and opened the door, and Dean realized very suddenly that even though he had barged in on his poor unsuspecting neighbor with a crying child and a weird doll, he was disappointed they were leaving. 

Following Chase out the door and echoing the same quiet good night Dr. Cas gave them, Dean paused. He turned, looking back at Dr. Cas who had not yet started to close the door. "Is uh, there any way I could maybe take you out for a drink one night? You know, to say thanks." 

The smile that curled onto Dr. Cas's face was slow and maybe even a little shy, but his features were alight, as though maybe he was glowing. "How about you just take me out for a drink, no thanks necessary?"

Dean grinned, nodding. "It's a date."

[assmaster-8000]

I need to know all your thoughts of cecile

i need to preface this spiel with thanking you for opening my can of worms. will this satiate my endless need for this freak? maaaybe not. but like gay sex, it's a temporary fix and by god will i take it.

so, this post will delve into multiple aspects of my thoughts on cécile. i'll have to section it because if not, you'd probably just have a post the equivalent of a werewolf barking at their reflection in a mirror. here they are;

i. visual design

ii. personality and traits (backstory) / character development + his romance arc

iii. comparison to other characters + what made him stand out to me

no read more will be added on this post because i'm forcing everyone to either scroll past a wall of text or indulge my insanity. is this analysis? my simple thoughts? who fucking knows, man. not me. i don't know anything ever. everything is speculation, because my man's ain't even in the demo yet. ask me this question again when the extended demo drops LMFAO

i. visual design

the most notable aspect to cécile is his metal jaw, facial scar, and black eye.

his metal jaw had me in a pickle. for the longest time, i thought it was a prosthetic. as in, he had his lower jaw removed - regardless of how and why - and it acted as a replacement. however, on the ravenstar tiktok account, they show a draft of cécile's sprite that caught my attention.

he doesn't have his metal jaw, nor his iconic scar or black eye. he does have his original lower jaw, though. maybe this is just a draft before they settled on his current design. maybe this is how he looked in the canon past. maybe! but on top of seyl (the director of lost in limbo) confirming that cécile still has his tongue, i believe he was always intended to have his lower jaw. so the prosthetic is out of the picture.

right now, i believe it's more like a retainer; teeth appears to literally be growing out of his cheek, and i don't think it's the teeth in his mouth jutting out. i can't tell what exactly is the cause of all this, too. my favourite medical student (bean ily muah) said his facial scar appears to have been caused by a controlled flame, and shrapnel to the face based on the scarring around his lip. so he could have suffered an act of assault (physical? magical?), an accident, or maybe he's afflicted with a curse that developed teeth on his skin + his red eyes. could he be turning into a monster as time passes?

i also find it incredibly tragic that his eyes used to be brown before The Incident (air quotes). there's always something inherently tragic about the mundane being unattainable - to think that of all things in the world you are forbidden from, you are barred from the sweet innocence of adam and eve, rather than the glorious garden. brown eyes are the most common eye colour here on earth; imagine how cécile feels, the interloper with a face unmarred. a face that was once his. his dislike towards mc runs deeper than his dislike for everyone specifically because they're a harbinger of danger to the master he protects, and they could just be the past he's been hiding like a wound underneath his clothes.

the gaze of his bloodthirsty eyes... is it really? as in, always bloodthirsty? or is it so because it's your blood he needs on his hands?

aside from the practicalities of his metal jaw, i just think it's super... metal. (i wink at a camera offset and i proceed to get shot a million times. where were these snipers at the trump speech smh)

cough... anyways. i think it's bias, but one of my own oc's has a metal jaw prosthetic because they lost theirs in a fight long ago, so you can imagine i morphed into the spiderman pointing at spiderman² meme when i saw him. it's just automatically intriguing when the character's face is unapologetically damaged, unapologetically different. cécile and lázaro attracted my attention instantly because of how unique they look, and i appreciate that cécile's face does all the talking of his character while his attire is rather subdued. (even that itself speaks for him tbh)

as for my personal feelings, i appreciate a man with a long/wide nose. hit tweet, let doja cat smite me down herself.

now, as for his sprite's body language. i was rather taken aback at the fact that cécile has a less imposing stance than envy - yes, there's a defensive undertone to the way he holds his hands in front of him, but it's not to close him off from the world the way envy's crossed arms communicate that. in fact, cécile appears to be comforting himself. most people who hold/rub their own hand tend to do so because they're revolving a subtle conflict within themself. it doesn't help that the hand being held is the one that appears to have suffered the brunt of whatever he endured, based on the scars around his wrist. he could be holding it because it's instinct - to protect the side of him that was hurt the most. cécile is a weapon of war and a shield to his very core. he hurts others, and i don't think it'd be a stretch to say he hurts himself (why wouldn't he? the man that stares back in the mirror is so very wretched and it wouldn't be wrong to want to tear it all away.) cécile protects others (literally only gael) from the world, and cécile protects himself from the world and the additional enemy of himself.

he is a walking wound of all that has happened to him, and he knows acutely where the gash continues to weep.

yet, his cocked head also denotes a level of serenity that not even envy has. atleast, that's what it reads to me. it could also be an expression of interest in his surroundings, and hence, he's actually more on guard than envy. he doesn't keep his arms crossed, and instead in a stand still, because he constantly needs to be ready to pounce. maybe!

back to his attire. i adore the idea that gael actually picked it out for him. cécile is, technically, a representative of gael, so it makes sense his attire needs to hint at that, with the purple and all. but again, i would like to think of gael comparing outfit after outfit on cécile, engaging his opinion on which he thinks is best - and all cécile offers is, "whatever you deem is best, i will accept." (never ask this hoe where he wants to eat /j). one of the few things gael can do for a man like cécile is offering him a part of him to carry around.

also, for anyone who missed it - cécile has freckles ;)

ii. personality and traits (backstory) / character development + his romance arc

cécile is stated to be an istj, and seyl confirmed he's likely to be a scorpio sun. if so, loyalty is legitimately built into this man. a man if the fates wept tears of their eternal duty onto the spool when they wove his life into existence.

his reliance on the past + his traditions is gonna be like a pair of crutches to a man with both legs lobbed off. routine is the prison that keeps him going - break it, and you break him. after all, experience is all he has to go off of. as much as he may try not to linger on his past - that's exactly what he does. his memories are like ghosts in the corner of his bedroom. every good and bad experience, and by god is there a plethora of the latter, stands out like bruises he can't stop pressing down on. that's why i believe it's especially harder for you to gain cécile's worship; gael is all the good he's known, and you're just a strange human. why would he love you, a fickle being that can barely stop themself from being killed by him, when he could have an immortal sovereign? why, indeed. and it's gonna be especially hard for a man like cécile to grow accustomed to a love that's soft, because he's known violence all his life. he was born of it, made of it, and will be undone by it. that's all he can offer you, so he will expect the same from you the day he accepts you.

also, like... cécile literally fits the bill of scorpio's holding life long grudges. aside from protection, his primary desire is vengeance. and it's not something you can dissuade him from. why would you? you loved cécile because he's a walking bundle of rage and despair. you love him because his heart bleeds on you like an open wound. you will kiss the blood off his lips after the carnage - yours? his? someone else's? who cares, it's ours - and he will only sigh on yours, a thank you for being the best constant in his life of spite.

i can also see where cécile's need for domination comes from, with that extraverted thinking (Te). he may be a bodyguard in subservience to a god, but even they must know when and where to call the shots. it's very clear that control was robbed from him repeatedly ("[...] those who snatched his soul away from him—"), so it comes as another instinctual need to maintain control in every situation. and if he must trap it in the iron-fisted palm, so be it. that's exactly why cécile, like envy, benefits from an mc who knows how to push past sharp commands and loud warnings to chase after him. he relies on people shrinking away from him when he snaps to establish a clear line of boundaries. ultimately, it is by obeying caution that you'll never romance him, because you're playing into what he wants - and what he wants is you away from him. he needs an equally dominant person in a way that has them constantly battling for ultimate dominance, or maybe someone who is more dominant, but not in a way that completely imposes on him. in a way that shows him why exactly you can be his new master, y'know? in this life, everything is chains and prisons to cécile. it's just a matter of picking the most luxurious one. if you're shameless about what you can offer him, he might just take you up on it.

i think it's pretty obvious that cécile has volatile emotions hidden underneath (aries moon maybe???). he buries his softer sentiments deep below, where they lie, they run rampant. i'm a little unsure as to how this'll manifest, but cécile obviously can be soft and sentimental when he wants to, especially or only when the mc isn't looking. he traces their face in the dead of night - he alleviates their burdens behind their back - his favourite sex position is one where they can't see his face, but he can service them just fine. he can be vulnerable, but he doesn't want you to see him when he chooses to be once in a blue moon, lest you get the impression that there is a secret goodness to this violence. there isn't. he's not like envy - standoffish and cruel on the outside, soft and pliable underneath. no, peel away layer and layer of rage and you'll find more rage. crack away at that and you'll find a hollow heart. he's doing it because every human, no matter how depraved, is capable of SOME tender intimacy.

also, man. i think switching his loyalties is gonna be the equivalent of ripping all his skin off. like, yes. he loves you. the need to worship is strong, but it is unbidden for a reason. it is essentially betraying gael, isn't it? loving someone else? a man like cécile has a lot of 'love' in his heart, and all that love can only be directed at one person.

now... extraverted intuition? coupled with his scorpio sun? i imagine it feeds into the possession and obsession. it's less about worrying that you might look at others - it's about knowing that everyone has their eyes on you. it's an irrefutable fact, that there's a bounty like a guillotine on your neck. and he promised to protect you. he did, he promised. and he will, no matter what it demands of him, because you're the one thing that makes it all worthwhile and he'll be damned if the world takes more from him.

i don't know if i can sum his personality up, and i'm not interested to. he's an enigma, and i prefer complexity. as for his character development? i don't know. i really don't know. would it be bad to say? that i don't want him to get 'better'?

the appeal of cécile is that he can't offer you a 'normal' love that even a god, for all they're entrenched in, can offer you. his love is always bloodied. his love is always cruel. his love is all-consuming, like a punch in the mouth.

i think the one thing i wanna see, or predict for him to have, is to learn that there is someone who will do more than passively accept him. there is someone who actively desires him - needs him, even, in all his depravity. i want him to realise that he's not the only one who loves like he's the forest fire, and they're the forest or the witness. fire meets fire. violence for violence, like beasts.

maybe i want to see him become more open to someone calling the shots for him? and know that he can trust them, that they won't use him like everyone else has. honestly, it's difficult to not 'use' him. he's a lover, a weapon. the only difference is the affection in your grip when you swing his blade down to take another head. i want romancing him to come slow yet fast, harsh and cruel and intimate. i don't want the devs to feel like they need to water his morality or cruelty down, because like... isn't that his whole appeal. he's a killer and a sinner and that's why you love him. so on that note,

iii. comparison to other characters + what made him stand out to me

i originally was not interested in lost in limbo, because i tend to prefer darker horror. that changed when i saw lázaro, because the knife scene made me believe they were a FREAK freak. turns out they're pretty chill; and that's simply not my cup of tea, so my interest waned even more.

until i saw cécile.

my favourite romance trope of all time is obsession, but it's something i abstained from for so long because it's ALWAYS one-sided. with cécile, there's the strong potential that you're mutually obsessive, because let's face it. you won't be able to get anywhere with cécile without matching his freak. AND I MATCH HIS FREAKY I LOVE HIS NASTY!!! I LOVE UNAPOLOGETICALLY VIOLENT CHARACTERS!!! I LOVE CHARACTERS WHO UNAPOLOGETICALLY KILL AND MAIM AND DESTROY!!!! FUCK!!!!

i am not someone who is made to enjoy the tender mundanity of love. i want to be loved like a body hits the pavement below and that is exactly what cécile is.

i think the biggest difference is that cécile's whole romance with mc, aside from his loyalty to gael, relies on the dilemma of knowing he's just a man. the main cast are gods, they can afford to put up a better fight against whatever is ailing the two of you.

but cécile? he has almost nothing. he's just a dog, after all. he'll fight tooth and claw just to keep mc because there is quite literally nothing else he can do in the face of it all. and i love that it would make his route a lot more desperate. in life, we will all suffer so very beautifully. he might as well be your suffering, in name and heart. then, is he truly yours. then, are you truly his.

also, i adore the fact that cécile is the only openly hostile love interest to mc! envy has that ease to growing flustered that endears him even in the face of his... lack of manners. but cécile's only official existing line of dialogue is warning you to stay out of his way lest he gives you a quick death. STAY AWAY is literally printed in big, bold, black letters on his forehead, and i don't doubt he isn't afraid to be the one to kill mc.

AND I LIKE THAT OK!!! GIVE ME A CHALLENGE!!!

i think that is... the brunt of my thoughts, off the top of my head. feel free to ask me any more questions and i will try to go in depth but for now... we rot. @ravenstargames this is all your fault cécile is chasing me around in his basement AND I CAN'T GET OUT

[imtotallynotthere]

ALRIGHT PEOPLE. SELF AWARE MR. RECA.

For those waiting for the SCP cross over with Still Wakes the Deep, it's coming! Life decided to throw me out of the bumpy car ride and into many curbs.

Now, I don't believe Reca is his actual name, but it could be all the same. For this, I'm going for it isn't and is instead his "stage name."

As a tag states, if anyone would know they're in a game, it would be this man. Without further ado, ✨him✨

I have a feeling that Reca would suspect something isn't right. He'd notice his memories don't date as far back, but he'd probably look at it as nothing. However, when he sleeps (can memokeepers even sleep?), he sees the same scenes over and over again.

It's only until you, the player, play the quest that he finally understands.

When he can't control his speech or movements whenever in the proximity of the Trailblazer(s), he realizes the truth. Those dreams must've been different versions of himself, there's no other explanation. The sound of your voice, however, is what really sells it.

When he first appears, he hears your voice. It sounds far away, but he can make out some words; words such as "suspicious", "eyes", and "this is the scene?" That's the clearest sentence one. He can hear your laughter at him putting the woman from The Family down a peg, you even cheering him on.

He can hear you even joking about how he looked after that. Something about a black and white cat meme picture with a knife pointed at it. He wonders what that's about.

He can feel the eyes of you, the singular audience member to his entire set, watching his every move like he's on camera.

Yes, he doesn't quite like being controlled, but since he can't do anything about it yet, why not dramatize the act more?

His lines are given with a little more fervor. His actions, he finds, can be dramaticized as long as it fits the exact scene he's in. He puts on a show to appease his only audience member watching from the far background.

He can hear your gasp at the reveal he's a memokeeper. The slight laughter at his own silly antics, such as when he takes a picture of Robin and everyone else dancing while Boothill gets dragged into the floor.

And when the curtains fall on his scene, he hears you clearly for the first time; sounding so close, yet so far all the same:

"Who are you really?"

While he wishes to tell, he can't exactly do so. He knows he doesn't have the free will (disgruntled as he is about that), but that's not the actual reason. He wants to keep you guessing.

So, keep on guessing his role. You are the Watcher, as he'll address you, even if he knows your name. You're his special secret and audience member.

He'll see you again once the curtain rises in his next play. Perhaps, he'll be able to finally talk to you and bring you into his next act?

[gyuluttony]

gonna do something somewhat out there and out of nowhere. i just finished kinktober on my like... main wg account so i've missed doing kpop wg so i'm coming back with... zb1 SDFJSDF gunwook been attacking me lately so he's going to be the one feeling it now.

All-in

This is a feederism fic and features weight gain and unintentional weight gain. Don't like, don't read.

There was a dreamy sort of sigh that left the table in the library and it took one paper flying to cause the source of it to make an annoyed expression. "Yah! Kim Gyuvin!" The warm tone of Gunwook sounded a little more frustrated than usual as his friend held his finger in front of his lips, to shush him.

"You can't be too loud in the library, Gunwook~" The teasing tone almost made him jump over the table to show him who could be louder of the two before he felt the pointed gazes of the students around them and buried his head in his textbook, muttering curses towards his friend who barely had enough mercy to add quietly, "Just because Matthew hyung is here doesn't mean you should neglect your work."

His long crush on the older friend of theirs was something that was practically known by everyone in their friend group. And something that he couldn't help but get embarrassed about everytime someone pointed it out. He wasn't that subtle about it... and it wasn't aided by the fact that Matthew tended to treat him nicer than his heart knew how to react with.

"Gyuvin, I swear if you don't stop talking about it when he's this close by, I-" The words that left Gunwook were growing more threatening by the moment before he heard a loud exclamation. "Oh, Gyuvinnie and Gunwookie!" It was always nice that Matthew didn't seem to care about the negative glances for the loud volume but he only belated realized, offering a small apology and a sweet smile that no one could stay mad at as he approached.

"O-oh, hyung! Good to see you." Gunwook was severely underprepared for the way that Matthew sat next to him and leaned on his shoulder while Gyuvin tried not to laugh.

"H-hi, hyung." Gyuvin imitated his stammer which got a death glare shot in his direction before Matthew spoke again, "I didn't know you guys were studying here... but I brought some snacks for Taerae since he said that he wanted some." Gunwook tried his best not to visibly deflate at the thought before the snacks were placed in front of him.

"Huh? What are you doing, hyung?" Matthew stuck his tongue out as he added, "No one said he needed to get them all. I bought a lot so you can just have the extra instead. I know how much you love to eat." There was a pat on his head from the older man and Gunwook did his best to not beam before opening the box. Gyuvin rolled his eyes from across the table, texting someone about what he was witnessing in front of him.

While he dug into the snacks and made conversation with Matthew there were some things that came to mind. Taerae was a little bit on the heavier side. Not fat but chunky was a good way to describe him. It only made his dimples and smiles cuter and nicer to hug, something that Matthew was incredibly fond of. He had believed that Matthew was someone who had a crush on Taerae for a very long time... so maybe that was what he was missing.

Gunwook was a good gym buddy for Matthew... but what if he wanted something that was a little bit softer. Was that the best way to capture his attention? With a renewed vigor, Gunwook ate the snacks that Matthew had brought even faster, surprising both of his company. "Hyung, do you have any more?"

Gyuvin wasn't unaware to the way that Matthew's face seemed to warm up as he stammered for a response for a moment before furiously texting Ricky. They had made a bet on when something would happen between them after all but he couldn't really afford it to happen now... he was going to lose the bet.

"All I have is the stuff for Taerae... how about..." Matthew bit his lip with a smile that he was failing to hide. "I bring these to him and we can head out for something to eat?" Gunwook's eyes brightened before Matthew nearly stumbled out to get the treats to Taerae. Gunwook began to pack his notes while Gyuvin looked at him, "Seriously?"

"You told me to stop staring... so I'm doing something about it." Considering how smart Gunwook is, it should have occurred to him that Matthew practically sprinted back to him so that they could head out to get food while Gyuvin was trying to ease up Ricky on the bet so he wouldn't owe him too much.

-

As he jumped in his dorm room, Gunwook felt his face burn, feeling the way that the flab jiggled, trying to squeeze every possible extra inch of himself into the pants that no longer fit into his frame. It was almost like a dam was broken that day.

He had stopped going to the gym as much with Matthew but he was seeing him just as much, if not more. They were always getting food since Matthew excused it as wanting to treat his dongsaeng. But, Gunwook didn't realize that not working out combined with Matthew's constant treats would have results this fast.

He'd already let out this pair of pants twice since upsizing and now, his belly was sticking out from his body, proud and bloated with fat. Or food considering that Matthew treated him most meals in a day. It was always nice when he insisted on Gunwook trying something new and he loved it.

It's not like the weight was solely tied to his prominent belly but it settled in his thighs and glutes which wasn't really aiding the pants situation. They clung tightly to the plump thighs as well as didn't even make halfway up his ass as he tried hopping into them again, hearing a faint tear of fabric and how much the fat on his body jiggled at the motion.

While looking at himself in the mirror, Gunwook's hand absentmindedly rubbed his belly as he felt his face flush. Matthew had been a lot more touchy with him recently. Either holding his love handles or even sneaking squeezes on his belly which always made him think he was on the right track to getting his attention. After all, him blowing up was for him as well.

But, there was an enjoyment he was getting out of it as well. Feeling the way that his body expanded, burst out of belts sometimes and even was starting to get stuck in booths at the restaurants they frequented... there was a bliss in this... he just wanted to do it properly with Matthew at his side and just like his appetite, it was insatiable. He was no longer content with just being friends.

There was a knock on his dorm door. They had already made plans to go out again and while he wasn't ready in the slightest, he knew that his outfit (or lack of since he didn't fit in the button down that couldn't even close or his pants) would get the answer he wanted.

Opening the door, he heard Matthew's voice. "Gunwookie~ Are... you..." The happy voice trailed off before he looked down at the gut that was staring straight at him as he swallowed dryly. "I'm up here, hyung." Matthew's gaze needed to be torn away from the plump mass before Gunwook smiled. "Wanna order in?"

The feeling of Matthew's muscular body crashing into him and jostling his belly enough that the buttons he managed to get closed break told him everything that he needed. He had went all-in and got the pay out that he wanted... and soon, he was sure that he'd need to upsize again anyways now that his boyfriend was showing him just how much he appreciated that excess on his body.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

I've been reading Exodus lately and I've just gotten to the portions where God gives the first commands to the people via Moses (twice), and then goes on to give detailed instructions about the tabernacle and how it should be built, and I'm just... we think art is unimportant?? we think things only mean as much as their functionality?? we so easily fall into the trap of believing that beauty means nothing, that it's cheap and only worth whatever mindless distraction it brings, that it's barely more than a cheap sensual thrill, that buildings should just be practical and plain and cheap, that everything should be functional but ultimately disposable, that paintings and dresses and mugs and curtains and carpets are just pretty but have no real value, that beauty is fleeting and vain and therefore shouldn't be thought about too much, if even looked for at all... we fall into these traps so easily, and we forget that there are chapters upon chapters of painstakingly detailed plans to build one portable worship tent, and those plans have been handed down through thousands of years of human history, because beauty and art and skill in craft is important

[bizarrelittlemew]

tagged by @saltpepperbeard @summerlinenss @edsbacktattoo @xoxoemynn @jaskierx a while back to share my fav fics i've written!

my favorite thing i've ever written has to be Five Birthdays and a Funeral (6 chapters, 57.8k words, E), so i'll start there.

this fic focuses on Stede navigating depression and anxiety while finding himself and figuring out his feelings for Ed, and its thesis statement is very important to me - that the whole "you have to love yourself before you can love others/before you can be loved" thing is a lie, and that you don't have to be a perfectly "healed" human being before you can love and be loved in return.

i put a lot of personal stuff into it, which was both scary and cathartic, and the response has been incredible and extremely validating. seeing how this stuff resonates 🥹 made me feel less alone (and i always love it when people shout at me about ketchup lmao) 💗 and along with the heavier stuff, it has strong romcom vibes, some of my fav Ed/Stede banter i've written, and lots of smut which i have on authority (from lovely readers) is very hot 😌

next, i'm pretty proud of A Series of Cases of Penetrating Stab Wounds of the Abdomen - a short fic (1.9k words, T) written entirely as a scientific paper in the (fictional) Republic of Pirates Medical Journal! it was extremely fun to find a way to make a narrative work in this format (and i especially love the footnote referencing Roach inventing ye olde toppe surgery) 🤸

i have a soft spot for In the sack (2 chapters, 8.3k words, E), which has a mix of innkeeper domestic fluff/smut, character study relating to Stede and clothes, exploration of why both Ed and Stede might find freedom and empowerment on either side of dom/sub play, and Stede getting to wear the onesie of subification 😌

lastly, this is my least-read fic (which is to be expected for fics with crew member POVs, though it actually has a lot of Ed and Stede being obnoxiously in love), but one of my favs is Bathtub beginnings (4.1k words, M). i just love the 60s New York vibes and think it came out really well ✌️

if you see this and want to talk about your fav fics you've written, consider yourself tagged 💗

[shannonsketches]

like why did they change where Vegeta was when Cell announced the cell games in the anime

why did they make this vegeta starting shit with yamcha instead of chillin in the lab with his family? why did they take Bulma out of the lab? Why'd they say she was Out while Dr Brief was repairing 16? Why did they change Bulma working on advanced robotics to running in late with her baby?

it's the same scene except: - Bulma's actively at work being a scientist - Vegeta's not being rude to her (or anyone else!) - Vegeta waits for Trunks instead of leaving the room - Cell interrupted the airwaves, which means Trunks and Vegeta were just hanging out with Bulma and Dr B while they were working

Those are all Great Character Details!! That the anime rails against!!

[zincbot]

episode 12 prisoner's dilemma is such such such a phenomenal episode

"the sword comes down"