#actually fucking treated each other like. human beings????

[falinscloaca]

one of the most important aspects to be learnt of being a political thinker online, a passive or active viewer of sociopolitical discourses and marginalization, is that just because you find someone to be “wrong” on a subject, have a bad take on a words definition or have shitty political/strategic takes, or just be fucking annoying to you personally, doesn’t make them stop being from the same marginalized group or group-of-groups as yourself. tragically sometimes a comrade-in-arms also just fucking sucks without it being a cishetero bourgeois psyop or a more-particularly-advantaged-yet-still-marginalized-group punching down. like there can be “self-hating” people from demographics actively trying to oppress said demographics but 9 times out of 10 Kaleb from My Discourses isn’t a Dennis Prager rubbing elbows with literal nazis he’s just that dipshit who thinks Judaism as a social category necessitates matrilineal affiliation (even though the people that actively hate Judaism as a social category don’t conceive of it as such). For example I mean.

this should really go without saying but good fucking god my own time in the ‘strangers with a word or two in common trying to kill each other online’ trenches neeeeded

[himejoshiangels]

I hate you sanitized batfamily. I hate you clean cut dynamics and quickly resolved conflict through honest and open communication. I hate you erasure of tragedy and complexity and toxicity.

insane ramblings below ⬇️⬇️

[quietwingsinthesky]

god the idea of a version of spn where uriel survives until the end is fascinating to me actually. i feel like part of the problem with castiel's character is that he's so disconnected, you'll get an angel a season there to work as castiel's parallel and then they're killed off and never brought up again. but uriel? the first one we see him with? who is so diametrically opposed to castiel in s4?

if he makes it to s5, does he team up with lucifer? he'd be the only angel that we know of who does. Abandon All Hope, but it's not castiel meeting a stranger, but Castiel also meeting with someone he considered a friend, who he would still consider a brother, and still having to tell him no. and Uriel throws his lot in with Lucifer, and that means he has to spend more time with demons? is there any part of him that looks at them and realizes that everyone on both sides is serving a god that doesn't want to look at them.

s6!! Lucifer lost!!! and that makes Uriel a traitor to Heaven so he can't go to Raphael, no matter how their goals may almost align (in the opening of the Cage, less so in who they're opening it for) and he can't go to Castiel! too much bad blood! too much betrayal! Where do you go during a civil war when both sides would prefer you dead?

Look, I don't know where this is going, but what I'm saying is, wouldn't it have been interesting to see Castiel and Uriel evolve as characters alongside each other. We know Castiel before Heaven gets blown to bits and falls, and that's why seeing the effects on him hurt so bad, the way he just loses more and more of what he tried to once save, uncovers more and more of how Heaven has been hurting angels. Just one other angel to react to that in a similar way but with a completely different viewpoint would have made it even more effective, and Uriel is perfect for that.

(I mean, in my mind, this ends as I always wish the whole heaven and angels arc in spn had, where those left over finally come together, look at the ruins that have been brought about, and take what they have been forced to learn to work together and build something better. rather than. you know. handing the reins to a three year old.)

[bluesunsdusk]

--// Imagining Najma saying "I don't date humans anymore." gives me real "I'm done with men 💅" energy. ))

[sovamurka]

Doomsday // Конец Света (2022)

Varvara 'Varya' Bazhenova & Azazello 'Azik' Mitrohin

- Why didn't you tell me about all of this?

- Because you fell for a demon. For the beautiful and magnificent one!

- Are you dumb? I fell for someone who talked to me when nobody else gave a shit and who looked at me differently!

- And you don't care for who I am?

- And you left me because of this?

- I didn't. I just... panicked. I felt awful, scared, anxious and...

- It's completely normal. You're human now, remember?

[sk3l3t0n444]

i wish i wasnt so scared of everything

[queer-geordie-nerd]

There really is no better example of the racism of low expectations when certain far leftists criticise condemnation of the fucking Taliban as “peak white liberal feminism.” Women and girls in Afghanistan are being systematically removed from public life, denied the right to education, freedom of movement, of dress, even the right to speak in public or to each other. Animals have more rights than women under the Taliban.

And then you have these arseholes saying it’s imposing Western cultural mores on non Western societies to care about the welfare of these women, as if Afghan men couldn’t possibly be expected to know how to treat women like fucking human beings and they have the audacity to hold themselves up as “anti racist.” You’ve clearly shown what an incredibly low opinion you actually have of non white and non Western cultures if you think the situation in Afghanistan is remotely normal or indicative.

It’s absolutely putrid.

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - Mirrors

Did Danny want to live in Gotham? No, of course not. Did he have a choice? Nope. When does he ever?

Now, he may be technically homeless, but he's also technically dead, so human laws technically don't apply to him. So, naturally, he pics out an empty mansion so big even if the owners were to come home, the chances they'd run into each other would be really low, and settles in.

This 'mansion' happens to be Drake Manor. Look, Danny lived in nowhere Illinois and kinda had his hands full dealing with ghosts, a double life, bullies, and being actively hunted. He doesn’t know much about celebrities. If you tell him the name of someone super famous, it might sound vaguely familiar, but that's about it. What he knew was superheroes and vigilantes (some of them, okay, give him a break). That's about it.

So the name Drake in connection with Gotham didn't ring any alarm bells. He did some surface level research: the Drakes are dead, survived by their only child, Timothy Drake-Wayne, who now owns their house but was adopted by some other super rich guy called Bruce Wayne and doesn't live in it, leaving it empty for the foreseeable future.

It was the perfect place!

Danny didn't explore much, partly because he didn't care to and partly because he was too tired to from healing. He cleaned up after himself, used only his bedroom (chosen for being tucked way back and out of the way), the attached bathroom, and the theatre occasionally as a treat. He lived off of the provisions packed for him, ectoplasm and water from the sink.

Cut to, few weeks in.

Danny's got a new routine, he's taken his stitches out, and is still super fucked up, but a lot better than when he arrived. He hasn't been outside since he arrived, but ghosts don't need Vitamin D anyway. Is he slightly depressed? Maybe. But he's also dead, so, bigger priorities.

Tim is looking through his stuff for something or other, and it occurs to him he probably left it next door. He hasn't been to Drake Manor in months, but he sort of really needs this thing, so he sucks it up and borrows a car because like hell is he walking the several miles from this front door to that one.

He goes to his old bedroom, opens the door, and comes face-to-face with himself.

And Danny doesn't know what he's supposed to do in this situation.

Listen, Danny doesn't always make the best decision in the moment. It's a very normal flaw to have! So he tells who can only be Timothy Drake-Wayne himself when asked, that his name is Timothy Drake, and this is his house, and, actually, who are you and how did you get in?

This causes Tim to assume Danny is himself from another dimension who he accidentally dragged to his dimension by messing with the Time Stream to get Bruce back. Danny continues to accidently fuel this misunderstanding without meaning to.

(This is not helped by the fact that a DNA test doesn't disprove this. Danny's DNA is corrupted, but what Tim does get is identical to himself. This is how Danny finds out he was adopted, and how Tim, much later when misunderstandings are cleared, meets the identical twin brother he never knew he had.)

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade's life and his mental health issues a lot, and I just thought about this. Not only being abused, but his entire brain being made out of cancer, and the fact that oxygen was physically taken from his brain over the course of 2+ days multiple times?

We see him coloring a lot and claim multiple times that he doesn't/ can't read (this is probably a bit, I guarantee he can read), but it had me thinking what if some days were more childish then others as part of his coping mechanisms?

At first, Logans was really confused about why Althea puts up with it until he realizes that it's extremely good for him to just... be taken care of? Praised and given affection for the bare minimum? He thinks it's weird. This wasn't the same man he was fighting with yesterday.

Coming into the living room, he sees Wade sprawled out with crayons and markers all around him with multiple pictures already coloured, his notebook having pages ripped out of it as he kicks his feet and hums.

On the tv, there are cartoons playing. Once in a while, he'll look up at the tv and then go back to coloring. "What are you doing??"

"Hi wolvie. 'm colouring."

"He's behaving, so don't ruin it." Al says. There's pictures by her, and she is holding a box of cereal.

"O..kay??" Sitting down, he's almost too curious to just walk away, picking up puppins so she doesn't ruin his drawings, petting her confusedly.

Sometimes, Al will hold out some cereal in her hand. "Wade." And he will see him shimmy over and take the cereal. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby."

As hes scooting back to his color spot he stops and watches the tv for a bit longer then usual.

"...What.. the fuck." Logan says to her and she gives him a brow raise. "What?"

"What is he doing?"

"He's coloring. And I thought I was the blind one."

"No no I mean.. those aren't murder plans. That's puppins."

"Yes? And?"

"And.. what did you do to him?"

"Treated him like a human being. Give it a try once inawhile." She says, and he comes back with more pictures, climbing in between them with no regard for space as he leans into her.

"Oh thank you. What is it?"

"It's you."

"Oh? How sweet. Do I look good?"

"Mhm!"

"Im glad. How about you show our friend here your amazing pictures. And he better be nice!"

So wade turns and now is leaning on logan as he points to a different picture. One of Logan with Puppins on a leash with a sun in the corner and crappy grass, a hearts all over the place.

At first he wants to tell him to get off of him, but seeing the pictures and how excited his eyes were to show him, it hits him and he understands.

".. uhm.. thank you?" But he puts it back in his hand. "Oh- you want me to keep it?"

Wade nods and starts cleaning up his crayons.

Logan turns to whisper to Al "How long does this go on?"

"About 2 hours or so."

"Why?"

"God only knows, but it helps with his nightmares."

"Colouring helps with his nightmares??"

"Its more then that. Hey sweetheart? Why don't you bring your ponys out."

"Theyre horses."

"Oh im sorry, my mistake. I think logan here wants to play horses."

Logan gives her a look like excuse me? When did I sign up for that? "No.. uhm.. I think im good."

Wade gets this look of sad innocence but goes to get them anyway, beginning to play by himself, brushing them and making them talk to each other quietly. As if he speaks any louder, he would get hit.

Logan groans and is like "Gimme a fucking horse.."

From then on, Logan is quick to understand what's happening and is much nicer to him, starts giving him snacks, buying him actual coloring books, and has pinned his drawings to the fridge each time he's gifted one. His horses name is Buttercup, by the way.

[inkskinned]

you have to be sexy but you have to be sexy in a way that's kind of bloody. you learn this early because you are wearing a ruffled skirt and the snow around your ankles kicks little sand particles against your calves. baby's first catcall. welcome to sexiness! welcome to the eyesore of your own body!

you have to be sexy like high heels. like sculpted eyebrows. like lean stomach and highly treated hair. you have to be sexy like youth is sexy, which means you have to be sexy like boxtox and plastic. a 30 year old can be sexy but she's not going to be bloody, and they like the bloodiness of it. a 30 year old is sexy when she is a whiskey glass and a wooden desk.

but you need to be sexy like an open mouth. you need to be sexy like a bitten apple. like plucked skin and white-knuckling the waxing kit.

so sex is a performance, not an enjoyment. for a while, you just assumed everyone else was also in on the joke - nobody actually likes sex that much, right? like, some men probably do, but why would you? it is like a gender - your gender is sexy. your gender is the performance of sex. you are thigh highs and garter belts. which, to be fair, do make you feel sexy.

part of what does make sex good is that you can tell that other people want you, which means the performance of sexiness is both bloody and wanted, which is good, which means you are winning at having a body. being wanted is the prize. being wanted is the thing you are searching for, not hope. you think you are looking for a soft grave in easy loam, but that is bloody but not sexy. to be sexy you must be bloody like a red open sign. bloody like a handprint. this will make you wanted.

any wanted or unwanted body is subject to supply and demand, which is to say that the more demand, the better you are valued. you must be highly demanded to be valued. this is stated in matter-of-fact by some men. sometimes it is a priest that says it, and sometimes it is a podcaster, and sometimes it is the 45th president of the united states of america.

(if you do not have any experience with being told your value, i want you to grab the nearest bird to you and i want you to crush it into a thin paste in your hand. spit into the center, and then hold your fingers closed tight around it for days and days, long after the rot has set in. feel bones itch inside of your fist. this is only a fraction of what it actually feels like, but it will suffice for a moment.)

good sex feels like you have earned their desperation. you have earned your own value. for a while you operated under the understanding that everyone knew about the power structure, even him. that their desire to take you - the violence of it - means that you must desire to be caught. little prince, guardian fox - you would rather have cut your own arm off. you liked the secret, cunning little voice you keep tucked into a box. you think you are fucking me. i am not even here right now. you are fucking what i conned you into perceiving. this is a painting, not a person. dominion over the body before all things.

so you bend your body like a wheat shaft and learn the steps so perfectly that it almost seems graceful. (if you do not have experience faking your own connection to your body and sexuality, cut each of your articles of clothing just a little bit incorrectly. pour fishbones into each of your meals. this way, you will experience the average noon on a tuesday.)

you have to be sexy like light spilled over a desk, but not desperate. not a noose. you can't be sexy like an electric guitar, you are the acoustic. you have to be on top of the bull but you can't have control over the animal.

okay, okay. the little rabbit of your heart went to sleep so long ago that winter has ravaged your concept of the human soul. there's something very-bad inside you, something that has taken over, a little fetid and rabid animal, angry and hurting and willing to bite first.

oh but even that's a pain that's sexy. open your mouth. be careful not to let the canines show.

[goldfish-afterhours]

Genshin Characters Apologizing After a Bad Fight

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli x Gn!reader

Type/genre: Bulleted headcanons, angst/hurt comfort?

Warnings: Curse words, probably not the healthiest coping mechanisms/apologies

Diluc

His apology comes out strained, as if the words are clinging to the back of his throat

His fists are clenched tight by his side. He prepares himself for you to yell, to scream at him

But you don’t even turn around to look at him

Diluc always saw you as his rock, his lighthouse in the stormy night, the one who keeps him steady as his duties of both vineyard owner and vigilante shake him back and forth like a ragdoll

But right now, it hits him for the first time how small your back is, how human you look

Has he been taking you for granted all this time?

When you don’t respond to his apology, he calls your name, and you finally turn around

His eyes widen when he sees the tears streaming down your face

His heart absolutely breaks. How could he have made you, his love, his everything, hurt this much?

Before either of you says anything, Diluc flies towards you, cradling your head gently in his arms, as if any slight pressure would cause you to break and shatter like glass

“How pathetic of me to make you cry. I’m so sorry.”

Childe

His heart could rival the weight of the world right now

Childe isn’t used to disappointing others. No, he’s always been the golden boy, the prodigy, the one who sets the bar and breaks it at the same time

So how come you are sitting with your back to him, refusing to say a word?

And why can’t he find it in himself to say something, anything, to make this better?

He is petty person, someone willing to drown an entire city rather than admit defeat. Any word of apology is almost impossible to force out of him.

Instead, he drops a book in front of you. It flips to a random page, and you can see the photos and names of people listed on it

Not unlike a cat bringing their owner a mouse, this was Childe’s form of an apology, even without the actual words being uttered.

“Choose any person from this book. I’ll bring you their head.”

Kaeya

His fingers are restless, constantly scratching the back of his hand or twisting each other

His jaw is clenched, shoulders slumped forwards as he refuses to look you in the eye

“I…I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

You knew that Kaeya had a hard time with apologizing—not because he was arrogant and thought he could do no wrong, but the emotional and physical toll it took on him was great

He often finds himself caught in a dilemma

On one hand, he has a difficult time admitting he is wrong as it forces him into a vulnerable position. To be wrong is shameful, an embarrassment.

On the other hand, he knows he fucked up. And he knows there are only a very few amount of fuck ups people let slide before they get fed up and leave.

And having you leave is not something he can afford

Kaeya’s seen this before. Faced again and again with abandonment, he knows a simple “I’m sorry” is not enough to make most people stay

But it is all he can offer

He prepares himself for the worst, but he was not prepared for the way you gently lifted his chin with your hands, a soft kiss melting away his fears

Zhongli

When you slam the door to your room, Zhongli doesn’t try to stop you

He doesn’t knock on your door, nor does he try to coax you out

He knows your type of anger—it’s like fire, and feeding premature apologies or sweet nothings would only fan the flames

So he sits outside your door until you’re ready to come out

Slips you snacks and books from under your door, in case you get hungry or bored in your anger

When you see the treats and novels slowly appear from under the door, you’re still fuming, but it’s difficult to be furious knowing your thoughtful lover is on the other side, not pushing you to calm down but trying to make you comfortable as you sit with your anger.

When you finally calm down enough to unlock the door and step outside, Zhongli is waiting

There is not a trace of annoyance on his face, but you can tell he relaxes a little from relief that you are willing to come speak with him again

Takes your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze as he apologizes for his behaviour earlier.

“Please accept my apology, my love. I never meant to hurt you.”

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 3

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Stabbing, Azriel unalives somebody that really had it coming, Death by being put on fire

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

*If you keep glaring at Keir like that we are never getting anywhere,* Rhys said into his mind, some amusement bleeding into his voice. 

*I think he’s trying to waste your time on purpose,* Azriel responded with a scowl. 

 The shadows hadn’t picked up anything out of the usual…but that didn’t mean anything…even Keir could manage to hide something if he really wanted to…and he did want to, Azriel thought. 

He wasn’t sure yet what…but there was something. There must be something. 

This meeting was utterly useless, was slowly turning into needless sniping at each other and Azriel didn’t like it…it felt like Keir was just trying to keep them in place for longer. 

The question was just for what? 

It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up like a cat…the feeling that something…something was…not quite right, that he couldn't put his finger on…

He hated that feeling. Azriel much preferred it, when he got all the facts… when he could make plans and plans for his plans…

But he couldn’t…and he was still stuck with being in the Hewn City and not in Velaris.

*Cassian is thinking the same,* Rhys responded with a sigh. *We’ll give it another hour. Don’t worry, we'll be back in Velaris soon enough,* he teased Azriel lightly. Rhys must have caught one of his thoughts. *Give Feyre some time and then you can go get your girl.*

An easy promise given. 

*Not my girl,* Azriel gave back immediately. *Not yet. Not…* Not until she wanted to be. Not until she knew the truth and…

*She won’t turn you down, Az,* Rhys said quietly, sussing out what was really bothering him immediately. 

But what if she did? Eira had every reason in the book to turn him down. Starting with his ill-thought-out pursuit of her actual twin sister to the simple fact of who he was…

She had every reason to tell him to fuck off to the continent because she never wanted to see him again. Granted, he highly doubted she would do that…he had never heard as much as a curse word out of her mouth. 

She had been raised as the daughter of a wealthy merchant, and clearly, that’s how she carried herself, even after everything had happened. 

At least she had clung to that bit of her human life.

*She has every reason to,* Azriel disagreed quietly.  Every reason to turn him down. Regardless of what he wished for…every reason not to be interested. 

What if she wanted to cling to even more of her human life? If the wings that he sprouted from his back were a step too far for her…if the scars that marred his hands were…

Or what if she simply didn’t want him? That would be a valid choice too and he would accept that. 

Of course, he would. 

He never wanted to force her into anything that she didn’t want. 

So what if she hated him? 

*She won't and she doesn't,* Rhys disagreed sharply. *Azriel, Mor was right,” his brother told him pointedly. “Eira has been having a crush on you for years. She’ll probably be ecstatic and immediately start planning your wedding…Maybe Elain can lend her all her wedding binders,” Rhys teased him. 

He bit back a smile at that. Maybe…maybe… He wished for that. He wished that would be…

Whatever she wanted. She wanted a big wedding? He would suffer through that, just for the chance of seeing her happy. Just for her smiling at him…not as painfully polite as she had been last evening but bright and happy and unbridled…He wanted to see that. 

He wanted to see all of that. 

But he pushed that thought away.  

*I am intrigued and terrified by what is actually in these binders,* Azriel admitted drily. *Even you didn’t have that many when you were planning Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony.*

*Helion is overcompensating,* Rhys quipped, though they both knew that it probably was the truth. 

After everything had gone down in Autumn, ending with a dead Beron, High Lord Eris and Lucien Vanserra officially becoming Lucien Spell-Cleaver…well.

*I owe you an apology,* Rhys said at that moment, and Azriel stared at his brother, who was listening to Keir with a bored expression on his face. *I did only want…the best for you that solstice but how I went around it…that wasn’t particularly nice to you.*

*Actually I owe you my gratitude,* Azriel said drily. *I didn’t want to hear it then…but I was…I wasn’t in love with Elain. I was…infatuated,* he admitted. *I was jealous of you and Cassian and that…that clouded my judgement. It could have ended very badly if you didn’t intervene.*

Very badly. A Blood Duel would have been their smallest problem then. 

*It could have,* Rhys agreed. *That’s why I interfered in the first place…But I still hurt you in that moment, and I wish I hadn’t.*

*If I keep behaving like an idiot you have my full permission to call me out on it,* Azriel gave back with a sigh. 

*Then stop thinking like you don’t deserve her,* Rhys said with a mental eye roll. 

*Sure, I’ll stop once you stop thinking the same about Feyre,* he shot back. Rhys would have retorted, but he was beaten to it. 

The shadows came suddenly, in a frenzy whispering in his ear, voices hurried and panicking: Master, Master you need to come NOW!

*What’s wrong?* Rhys demanded, just as that dormant bond in his chest was flooded with pure, undiluted terror.  

The Princeling and our Mate! 

*Eira and Nyx,* he choked out. The shadows already grasped him, before Rhys’ mental order could fully reach him.  

*GO!*

They dragged him out of Hewn City, into Velaris.

The ground he hit was scorched. 

That was the first thing he realised. 

Magic crackled in the air, thick and furious, untrained and uncontrolled…that was the second. 

Nyx had one specific playground he loved…one where Azriel knew members of their family often brought him to…with swings that he adored…

It was a place of happiness…of children laughing…of Velaris at its best…

Now…now it was a scorched wasteland. 

The swings? Gone. The smell of burning human flesh in the air, making his stomach twist, eyes tracking over the carnage. 

At least two dead…difficult to say because their bodies were burned…beyond recognition.

One more dead…mouth open in a silent scream…  One…one male held by his shadows, bearing him down onto the ground…and then, right in the middle of that carnage… in a heap on the ground…

The high-pitched crying of Nyx reached his ears, covered by the unmoving body of Eira. 

Azriel had thought that panic had been burned out of him centuries ago. He was taught something better that morning. Because it was panic that flooded his veins. Panic and Terror and…a thousand other things. 

*I need Mor! And Madja!* he snapped along the mental connection to Rhys, already hurling for both of them…sliding onto his knees as he so very carefully touched Eira’s body, feeling the delicate bones underneath his fingertips, a near unseen tremble, the smell of acrid blood clinging to her, layering over her scent. 

She had always smelled like snowdrops to him. Snowdrops and almonds and a crackling hearth. 

Now the blood…the blood…He turned her around, getting no reaction, finding Nyx safe and sound tucked underneath her, crying, his little face red and splotchy as he sobbed. 

*AZRIEL!?* Rhys demanded. 

*Nyx is fine. Not a scratch.* 

All he managed…as he finally saw the scarlet red dripping down onto Nyx…smeared all over him…and then he saw the handle of that dagger protruding from Eira’s limp form. 

Blood. Her blood. 

“Ra! Ra! Ra!” Nyx gargled, just as he finally managed to slap a patch of his killing power around that knife, keeping it steady. He didn’t pull it out, knowing that that could kill her…even when the blood that oozed out around it was starkly black in places…and he could smell the scent of…something burning in the back of his throat. 

Poison. That knife had been poisoned. 

A curse left his mouth at that. 

That wasn't good. That was everything but good. 

*Eira?* Rhys demanded at that moment. 

*Stabbed.*

The connection went silent, just as the booming sound of Morrigan winnowing went in beside him. 

“Az?”

“She needs Madja. Now,” he bit out. “Take them both.”

Safe. Safe. 

He needed her safe. And then he needed…

He leaned down, picking up one limp hand and pressing a kiss against it, her skin clammy and grey…even when he could feel her pulse thrumming underneath the thin skin on the back of her wrist... He breathed in snowdrops and almonds and sweetness...and then let go, because if he didn't...he never would. He would lie right down next to her, waiting for his demise. 

He grasped Truthteller without even thinking about it, as he stalked across the ground towards the one sole survivor. The shadows jerked him up, and Azriel grabbed hold of his throat. 

“What. Did. You. Do?!” he growled. What had they done to Eira?  To his mate?

“I…we…just the Prince…Grab the Prince. No matter the cost,” the male garbled out, the acrid smell of urine hitting his nostrils and only now Azriel took in the black uniform. 

Darkbringer. 

Court of Nightmares. Keir. 

Suddenly… it all made sense. It came together. The secret Keir had been keeping. It was so clear now. 

“Who hired you?!” Azriel spat out, wanting a verbal answer before…before... 

“The Steward!” 

And that’s all he needed to hear, before he drove Truthteller into him, into the exact same place where they had stabbed Eira…not immediately killing him, but seeing his eyes widen, seeing the realisation set in….the pained scream escaping him. 

“She’s mine,” Azriel whispered. “Mine. And you hurt her. You hunted her.” Like a game. Like an animal. 

She was his. His mate. 

And Azriel hadn’t been there to protect her.  He hadn’t been there for any of this…

“Lightning,” the male choked, blood bubbling on his lips. *She…killed…lightning.”

He didn't care what the male told him. It didn't matter. None of this mattered. 

The only thing that mattered was her. 

He watched as the light dimmed in his eyes, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction that he at least had gotten to do this. At least…

*It was Keir,* Rhys said into his mind, his voice deathly quiet.  *He…He ordered…*

*He wanted Nyx,*  Azriel agreed, pulling Truthteller out of the body, letting the male fall to the ground, wiping the blade on his trousers. 

*How many did you kill?* Rhys asked. No judgment. He could have slaughtered three dozen and Rhys wouldn’t have cared at that moment. 

*One.*

He could feel Rhys’ surprise. Then: *He said he sent 4.*

*Two were burned beyond recognition,* Azriel explained. *Another is dead, but still recognisable. I do not know how he died. The whole ground is charred. Scorched.*

A second later…Rhys and Cassian appeared, winnowing in from Hewn City. He imagined that Feyre had gone straight to their son.  Cassian took one look around at the ground, the carnage…the…

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Mor took Nyx and Eira?” he asked and Azriel forced a nod, feeling for that golden thread bound around his rib…wished he would get something, anything from her…

“She shielded him with her body,” he said nearly tonelessly. “He was smeared in her blood because she shielded him.”

Even stabbed, even feeling like she was going to die…Eira had done everything to shield her nephew. Had used her own body to keep him safe. Had protected him with her life. 

Azriel had never doubted that she loved him…but it still…she must not have even hesitated. Just done it.

She was a slip of a girl, with no combat training…and she had faced four of the Court of Nightmare's most elite soldiers and laid down her life if that meant that Nyx would be safe. 

He had seen grown Illyrian Warriors that would have tucked tails and run in this situation. 

Outnumbered…Outpowered. And still, she had stood her ground. 

“What happened here?” Cassian asked as he checked the other recognisable body. 

“They must have surprised her,” Rhys said, his voice shaking. “She thought they were safe. We thought they were safe…”

And they hadn’t been. They hadn’t been safe. 

At all. 

Death had been brought right to their doorstep in Velaris. 

“How did he die?” Rhys demanded from Cassian. 

“He was struck by lightning,” Cassian responded drily. “I have seen this before…on a cow though. It would also explain the scorched ground. If lightning hits the ground, it makes a pattern like that.”

What?

Lightning?

He looked up to the sky. It was a beautiful summer’s day. Not a trace of a storm…anywhere. 

“Do you think it was Nyx?” Cassian asked quietly but Rhys shook his head. 

“I have never seen anybody channel lightning,” Rhys answered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Never. I…” Neither had Azriel.  “He’s too young to channel magic like that.”

But was he? In a situation like that? When he had just tried to protect Eira? and himself? Maybe even at 1-year-old Nyx had recognised what…what would happen if he didn’t protect himself. Maybe it had been pure instinct on his part…Maybe he had seen Eira fall and that had been…

Eira. 

He reached for that bond again, feeling it tremble and he hung onto it with all his might, clenching his teeth. 

He…

He had failed her, hadn’t he? It should have never come that far. It should have never…It should have never…

Azriel should have been the one taking that knife to the chest, not her. 

“Clearly not,” Cassian disagreed with a snort. “He’s your son,” Cassian pointed out drily. “He’s Feyre’s son…who knows what he has inherited from her.”

Rhys stayed rooted in one spot, blinking once. 

“Rhys?” Cassian asked immediately. 

“Get Nesta,” he ordered Cassian. “We are needed at the River House.” And then after a second that felt like eternity…“It’s not…It’s not looking good.”

And with one sentence…everything crumbled. 

[yurinabluu]

🔹1. Watching from afar

synopsis- Break-up of the it couple of the university was surely shocking for everyone but yu jimin didn't care. She knew it was right to do as she was in love with somebody else. Precisely her ex's bestfriend.

“Yu Jimin is unreal.” 

“She is probably the most gorgeous woman ever like have you seen her.”

“And so talented as well. This is the third time she has won the gold for our uni in swimming. God really has his favourites, isn't it?”

You roamed around the campus making your way towards your lockers while yu jimin praise entered your ears. It wasn’t really surprising. Yu Jimin surely was one of a kind. Not only insanely beautiful but extremely talented and astoundingly kind and gentle despite her infamous status as an it girl with a rbf. 

Of course everyone liked her. No doubt everyone dreamt to be somehow related to her. As a friend or something more. She is like some untouchable prize. Desired by all but won by none. Maybe won by one. Your bestfriend Ryujin. 

You remember it quite vivdly how ryujin was literally jumping with happiness when she had told you last year during Christmas how she finally ‘bagged yu jimin’. To be honest, you hated how she worded it. Bagged yu jimin like she isn’t a human but some object. But you stayed quiet. You kept quiet because your bestfriend finally got the girl she was courting for past 8 months. 

Who were you lying to?

You kept quiet because you were heartbroken. You were heartbroken because your bestfriend got the girl you were in love with since high school. The same girl you had loved for five fucking years. Maybe if you had built some courage and confessed to her. Maybe it would have been you and not Ryujin.

Maybe…..

“Hey! You are here. I was searching for you all around the campus.”

Coming out of your thoughts, you looked at Ryujin , being all sweaty and that smirk of hers plastered on her lips as usual. 

“What is it?” You asked nonchalantly.

“I have decided to court jimin again.”

Your eyes, void with any emotions, met hers. You knew it was of no use. Ryujin was just wasting her time on someone who clearly didn’t care about her anymore. 

You remember meeting a crying Ryujin 3 months later after her confession on Christmas. That was probably the first time you had seen Ryujin crying and not with the usual grin she always greets you with. You don’t remember all the details but you do remember Ryujin telling you how Jimin dumped her between her cries. You would be lying if you’d say you weren’t shocked.

Your bestfriend and Jimin were the it couple of the university. Everyone adored them, saying how they were meant to be together one day. How they were just the best for each other. It did break your heart a bit but they weren’t actually wrong. Captain of the volleyball team and Captain of the swimming team together was definitely a treat. 

So it was surely shocking how they broke up just after 3 months of dating. But the most appalling was the reason of their break up. 

YU JIMIN WAS IN LOVE WITH SOMEBODY ELSE!!!

Just like everyone, you were also shocked. Was there really someone better than Ryujin? Only jimin could answer that. She was not someone stupid to leave Ryujin only for a passing crush. It must be serious to her. 

You didn’t exactly knew much about Jimin. Despite being in the same class as her in high school and meeting her few times when Ryujin dragged you along with her on her dates with jimin, you didn’t really had a conversation with her. 

Like Jimin , Ryujin was extremely popular among students. You weren’t any different from them. While Ryujin was popular for her charming and flirty self, you were famous for your godly looks and unapproachable aura. Being the vice-captain of volleyball, your sporty and athletic self was popular as well. Some admired while some despised how self-confident you were. Desired by both men and women, you definitely were a eye-candy. 

But it was also a mystery how your self- confidence betrayed you everytime you were near yu jimin. The power she had over you was another mystery in itself.

You remember tagging along with Ryujin to one of her dates with Jimin. Ryujin had told you Jimin wanted to meet you. You obviously did not believe her. You also recall Jimin’s surprised stance when she saw you beside Ryujin. As if she was not expecting you to show up there.

Your eyes met her surprised ones carrying along emotions you couldn’t decipher. She definitely did not wanted you there. You cursed Ryujin internally.

Despite not wanting you at the date or as you believed, Jimin ,being the kind woman she is, tried to strike a conversation with you multiple times that day , earning only hums and uninterested mumbles from you. 

If she did not hated you before, she certainly despised you now. 

“What do you think?”

“About what?” You replied to Ryujin after taking a bite from your food while sitting beside her in university’s cafeteria. 

“About courting jimin again dummy.” Ryujin replied.

“I don’t know what to say. Jimin broke up with you and clearly doesn’t care about you anymore. I guess you should let her go now Ryujin.”

“You are my bestfriend. Shouldn’t you be taking my side?”

“That’s what I am doing. I don’t want you to get hurt and cry like that again. You ruined my favourite hoodie that day with your tears and snot.”

“Shut- up jackass. Don’t ever mention that day again.” Ryujin grumbled lowly earning a chuckle from you.

“Anyways I have decided. Come-on do you really believe that being in love with somebody else thing. She clearly lied or just got nervous about our relationship. Like name someone better than me who have the charm and looks to steal Jimin’s heart.

“Y/n”

You looked behind at the source of voice calling your name.

You noticed your coach standing at a distance , motioning with her forefinger to meet her at the volleyball court.

“Just a minute coach.” You shouted and immediately stood up while carrying your belongings.

“I don’t agree with what you are planning to do Ryu but please take of yourself and make sure not to hurt you and Jimin in the process.” 

Ryujin nodded at your words frivolously making you sigh.

“Alright see you later.” You bid her bye and made your way towards the court when you noticed Yu Jimin looking as beautiful as ever. You felt your heart skipping a beat when you heard her laugh over something Aeri, her bestfriend said. 

Composing yourself, you took your eyes off her and left the cafeteria , not noticing a certain someone’s gaze on your retreating figure,filled with longing and love.

“When do you plan to confess your feelings to her or are you just going to spend all your life watching her from afar?”

Jimin looked at Aeri flashing a hurtful smile to her. 

“She doesn’t feel the same Aeri.”

_________________________________________

Taglist ( open) -

* I don't know what's wrong with Tumblr but it's not allowing me to tag anyone. I'm sorry to those who had requested to join the taglist. I will try to do it later. As of now , please enjoy the first chapter and do express your thoughts to me 😊

[candyskiez]

so, you've heard shows be recommended because they had gay characters. you don't really know what they're actually about though, and don't know if they'd be something you'd be into and are worried about spoilers. here's spoiler free plot summaries of em!

The Owl House

The Owl House starts out as a typical teenage girl goes into a fantasy realm story, but with a twist. Actions have consequences. The protagonist is a girl named Luz Noceda, who was being sent to a camp to make her behave normally by her mother after causing too much trouble at school. She ends up finding a place she's always dreamed of: a fantasy world. A world where everyone's so much weirder than she is. And she thinks, maybe if I don't belong out there, maybe people will like me here. Maybe I can be special here.

It's a story about found family, propaganda, erased history, living with disability, religious trauma, and neurodivergence. It's fundamentally a show about people who's brains work differently finding each other and making a family that treats them right. Definitely my favorite of the ones on this list. It's about people who've been oppressed being pissed about it and about finding yourself again after giving up on everyone around you for so long. It's basically a show about being a minority and trying to be understood and to understand yourself in the process. It's about growing up neurodivergent and how isolating it feels and figuring yourself out. It's about repairing broken relationships and parents who fuck up. And it's just. Such a love letter to anyone who was the weird kid in school. It's sad and heartbreaking and also so hopeful, and it's wonderful.

Content warnings: Abuse, Death, Grief, Animal Death, Suicidal thoughts, Vague suicide attempts, Depression, blink and you'll miss it s/h, body horror, religious trauma

She Ra and the Princesses Of Power

Adora was raised in the Horde since she was a baby, being fed propaganda about how cruel the princesses were. After learning how the horde actually was, though, she defects. But there's one problem. Her best friend, Catra, stays behind. Adora finds a sword that can transform her into She Ra, and might be the key to figuring out who she really is, while Catra takes her place as force captain.

It's a story about abuse, at the end of the day. Adora and Catra were stuck in a golden child and scapegoat dynamic, despite how much they care about each other. This leads to them knowing everything about each other but not understanding it. There's a fundamental disconnect between them, because both of their traumas are completely different. They have complete misconceptions about each other. Even in their initial split, they both have completely different perceptions of what's going on and why the other is upset. It's not a story about magic princesses, it's about the cycle of abuse and what makes it so complicated. Does it have flaws? Yeah. But ultimately I really really enjoy it, and when it does something right it does something RIGHT. Get through season one, it starts kids show-y but it gets very good during later s1.

Content warnings: Abuse (obviously), body horror, gaslighting (and I mean actual gaslighting, not what the Internet thinks gaslighting is), suicide, depression, flashing lights and eyestrain during the finale

Steven Universe

Steven Universe is a sins of the father story. Steven is the son of the leader of the rebel group The Crystal Gems, who's name was Rose Quartz. He navigates the confusion of being half gem and half human, as well as trying to figure out the mess of the rebellion and what his mother left behind. He's constantly in her shadow, for better or for worse.

It's a story about grief. How it impacts relationships, how it taints history, how it impacts family. It has some definite flaws, but ultimately it's about very flawed people who have lost so many people in their life trying to cope with it. Trying to handle what they lost and trying to adjust to life without them. It's about how expectations fuck a kid up and about agency and just a show about complicated relationships in general, at the end of the day. Also, it has some FANTASTIC music.

Content warnings: Grief, Abuse, body horror, very creepy people I don't know how to tag, heavy allegories for homophobia

Nimona

Nimona is a story about a guy who gets framed for murder. His name is Ballister Boldheart, a commoner who hoped to become a knight. It seemed everyone was waiting to watch him fail, so it was no surprise when he was the immediate target. Heavily injured and away from the man he loves, he's left alone trying to figure out a way to prove his innocence- until a strange kid comes into his life. This kids name is Nimona, and while he is intent on proving his innocence, she gave up on being anything but a villain a long time ago.

It's about deconstructing the model minority myth, trans rage, propaganda, and with a healthy dose of "FUCK the police".

Content warnings: Heavy injury, on screen suicide attempt, flashing lights

feel free to add more shows! just remember to keep the summaries as spoiler free as you can and add content warnings!

[ultravioletrayz]

Miguel x Curvy!f!reader

It’d be so cute if they’ve been besties for a while like since like the society got started but they’ve both had feelings for one another but they’re too afraid to admit them to not ruin the friendship but it gets all fluffy and cute when they found out they feel the same 🤭.

Then they have the cutest first time (together) and it’s like they were made for each other ^O^.

making this pt.3 to the 'undress' series 😚

PART 1, PART 2

Pairing: miguel o'hara x curvy!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, making out, starts a bit rushed and frantic but turns into soft n slow sex, vaginal fingering, missionary, protected p in v

Summary: after confessing your feelings, miguel rushes you into his quarters to worship your body

A/N: friends to lovers sex is so cute, especially with Miguel :(

Word Count: 2.38K

Overwhelmed by carnal need, you and Miguel come crashing into his quarters, his large, muscular frame guiding you until your back harshly collides with the wall. Your lips haven't left one another's since you left the bathroom stall, tongues circling around each other, teeth nibbling on each other's lips, drool practically overflowing from your mouths as you both revel in the taste of each other. Your hands are glued firmly to Miguel's face, keeping him bent down so that you can kiss him with all of the passion you can muster.

His hands are squeezing and caressing the flesh of your waist, as if confirming that you're real, that the girl he's been dreaming of making love to for months is no longer living within his depraved mind. Fuck, he should've done this sooner. The two of you could've been up to a tenth round by now if he had just fucked you when he walked in on you mere hours ago. But, hey, better late than never.

With a moment of hesitation, Miguel pulls away from the kiss, his tongue quickly lapping up the spit hanging onto your bottom lip before he leans back to look into your eyes, getting lost in the rich pools of affection and lust.

"Wait a second," Miguel whispers, still holding you close, not wanting his hands ever to leave your sides. "I didn't get a chance to explain myself back there. And before we do anything, I need to make sure we're on the same page."

"Before we 'do anything'? I think we've gone past that point, Mig." You tease, your hands sliding down the sides of his throat to rest on his broad shoulders.

Miguel scoffs at that, but he can't help the slight chuckle that leaves his lips. He had re-activated his suit to cover himself while the two of you stumbled into his room, but he could still feel his own cum dripping down his muscular thighs beneath the hologram, proving your point.

"Still. I need you to know that I care about you. That- That I have real feelings for you. I don't just want to fuck you and treat you like shit around the Society like... like you're some slut. I want to actually be with you. Joder… Quiero amarte, preciosa." Miguel confesses, his gaze dropping to the minuscule space left between the two of your bodies, unable to look you in the eye after being so open, so genuine, so human in front of another person, especially since that person is you.

Your face falls, the need in your eyes shifting into adoration as you tilt your head slightly, absorbing Miguel's cute confession. He's always had to make his plans known, unable to let curiosity and assumptions about his intentions linger in the air. It's a trait of his that he's always found irritating, but it's so endearing in your eyes. Especially in cases like this where you can reciprocate that purity.

"Miguel, I want the same. I... I care about you the same way. It sounds so stupid, but I feel like I've fallen for you... and I've felt like that since I first saw you. I really like you, Mig." You say softly, your hands coming back up to cup his handsome face, watching as it lights up almost instantly with a lovesick, goofy grin.

Before you can really process the significance of the feelings that have been vocalised, Miguel is scooping you up in his strong arms, carrying you to his bed with an almost adorable sense of urgency, further emphasised by the way his dick is throbbing with need beneath his suit.

His sharp red eyes are wide and puppy dog-like, his gaze worshipping your position on his bed as he undresses you almost obscenely fast, ripping through fabric, straps, and lace, unwilling to wait any longer to see every inch of you. And it's better than he ever could of imagined, better than seeing you in your underwear hours ago. Better than anything and everything.

The bed creaks with Miguel's weight as he kneels above you, knees on either side of your thighs, caging you beneath his muscular physique. His mouth immediately finds your throat, nibbling and sucking as his hands trace along every nook and cranny of your body, squeezing and stroking your soft skin. Your head falls back against the pillows, mouth open and letting out soft sighs and whimpers, one hand tangling in Miguel's brushed back waves, while the other reaches for the gizmo wrapped around his veiny forearm, pressing a few buttons that cause his spider suit to dissolve off of his sexy body, leaving his bare form pressed against yours as he leaves a trail of hickeys and spit down your shoulder.

Eventually, one of Miguel's wandering hands makes it's way down between your plush thighs, thick, long digits ghosting over your wet, needy cunt, your walls clenching around nothing due to your sheer desire for any kind of contact. Oh, how Miguel wishes he could indulge you right now. He wants to dive mouth-first into your sweet warmth and lap up the liquid fucking gold that's seeping out of you. He wants to worship you, make it obvious how desperate he's been to have you. But, Miguel is a busy man. A busy man with avid needs that need to be fulfilled.

Quickly, Miguel dips the rough pad of a single finger into your pussy, making you gasp and let out a soft little squeal, teeth biting down on your lower lip and hands irritatedly grabbing at Miguel's thick chest hair, tugging at the strands as you whine.

"Mig! You... ah-! c-can't just do that!" You manage to splutter, already breathless as Miguel gently glides another digit into you and scissors your pussy open, getting a good feel of how wet and ready you are for him. In any other scenario, he'd be prepping you and taking care of you like a true gentleman, slowly fingering you and kitten-licking your clit until you've cum three times and he's certain you can handle his dick. But he hasn't got the time, nor the patience right now.

"Lo siento, preciosa. Just need to make sure you're gonna be able to take it." Miguel chuckles, his voice a faint whisper as he puts all of his attention on your tight cunt, gently thrusting his fingers in and out of you as his sharp, scarlet eyes focus on the way your hips jolt whenever he presses against that spongy spot inside of your warmth. "You have no idea how badly I wanna taste you right now. Bet you're so sweet, just f'me. Pequeña cosa desesperada. I promise I'll eat your pussy so nice and slow next time, sweetheart. But I just need to feel you."

Your eyes glaze over at Miguel's forwardness, your walls tightening around his fingers as you whimper and mewl beneath him. You'll take anything he's willing to give you- fingers, mouth, cock. You just want Miguel. Much to your dismay, your body is filled with an overwhelming sense of emptiness when Miguel pulls his digits out of you with a slick pop! making you whine and curse under your breath, looking up at him with such need and desperation that it almost causes Miguel to let out a whiny moan of his own.

With freed hands and the drive of a yearning man, Miguel hastily reaches beside you for his tiny, shitty little nightstand, grabbing a single condom from the drawer. He fumbles slightly while unwrapping it due to his impatience and overwhelming arousal, making you giggle, earning a mean tweak to your nipple that makes your back arch and a whiny moan fall from your lips.

"It's your fault." Miguel scoffs, managing to get the condom out, quickly rolling the latex over his huge, meaty, throbbing cock. Not wasting a second more, Miguel hikes your supple legs up, spreading them and pushing your knees to either side of your chest. He lines the head of his girthy, heavy dick with your glistening folds, nudging your clit gently to keep you in the moment. Without a moment's delay, he's pushing that huge cock of his inside of you, the blunt stretch making you hiss through gritted teeth at how overwhelming this whole situation is. Your boss, your friend, splitting you open on his cock. It's like one of your wet dreams come to life.

Miguel goes as slow as he can stomach, your tight, pulsing walls memorising every contour and detail of his veiny shaft from the inside, wanting to somehow tattoo the feeling of his dick onto your flesh and feel him inside of you forever. You can see why he was apologising for not preparing you, but somehow, the mere fact that it's Miguel that's spearing you open agonisingly slow but adorably quick is putting your body at ease.

"F-Fuck, feels so good. Dios mío, se me ha antojado este coño." Miguel pants, rough hands pawing at your plush waist as his knees sink further into the mattress, his back hunched so that his arched nose and unruly strands of hair brush against your face from above. Now that he's finally got you like this, legs spread and pinned in place by the weight of his own thighs, hands gripping at his broad shoulders, warm, panting breaths hitting his face, Miguel can breathe. He can continue knowing that you're really, truly in his bed, giving him the fucking honour of making love to you. And he's not gonna disappoint his dear friend.

Slowly, gently, Miguel draws his hips back, sharp red eyes fluttering as one of his hands comes up to hold your throat, not applying any pressure but stroking his thumb across your skin soothingly. Inch by inch, he pushes his entire cock back into you, making you both moan. He does this a few more times, really stretching you out and getting the two of you accustomed to the foreign, blissful sensations.

Miguel readjusts your positions, his swole, beefy arms wrapping around you and hoisting you up slightly, pulling you into a hug before laying you back down. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, and you reciprocate his embrace, arms loosely slung around his shoulders.

"Mig, please." You whisper, your voice so meek and breathless as you beg for him to give you what you crave. He's trying so hard to be gentle and treat you right, not wanting to risk messing up this perfect moment. It's cute, but your patience is wearing thin while your need grows thicker and more unbearable.

Building a sensual rhythm, Miguel rolls his hips again and again, his fat dick leisurely pistoning in and out of your warm cunt. His face is now buried in your hair, his groans and hitching breaths getting lost against you as he embraces you tightly, the veins along his arms bulging each time he thrusts entirely into you. You were in no better shape, keening and sighing in ecstasy each time Miguel's chubbed tip so delicately kisses your cervix.

Miguel's thrusts become more deliberate, each movement a slow, deliberate dance of passion and need. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he's memorising you with his touch. His fingers trace down from your throat through the valley of your breasts, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin , sending shivers down your spine. Your breath hitches as Miguel's pace quickens ever so slightly, his cock gliding in and out of you with a rhythm that's both maddening and intoxicating. The sound of your combined moans fills the room, a symphony of desire that only heightens the intensity of the moment.

"Just- Just like that," You moan, your voice barely audible, but he hears you. He always hears you. His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of love and lust burning in his gaze. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. You feel dizzy, your body arching involuntarily as he hits a spot that makes your toes curl. You can feel the tension building, the pressure coiling inside you, ready to explode.

Miguel's hands move to your hips, his grip firm but gentle, guiding you as he thrusts into you with a slow, steady rhythm. Each movement is calculated, each thrust a testament to his desire to make this moment last. His breath is hot against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down to your collarbone. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure builds. You can feel the edge approaching, the precipice of ecstasy that you're both teetering on. Miguel's thrusts become more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with a fervour that matches your own growing need.

"Miguel, I'm close!" you gasp, your voice trembling with anticipation. He responds by tightening his grip on your hips with a wanton, desperate moan, his thrusts becoming more insistent, more desperate. His cock pulses inside you, the sensation almost too much to bear. You can feel the heat pooling in your core, the pressure building to a breaking point.

With a final, powerful thrust, Miguel buries himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he reaches his climax. His cock twitches, filling the condom with his release, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You follow soon after, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crash over you, pussy gushing around him and soaking the sheets as you shake and squeal, panting as you come down from the sort of high you thought could only be mustered in your filthy imagination.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your combined breaths, the room filled with the aftermath of your shared ecstasy. Miguel collapses onto you, his weight a comforting presence as he nuzzles into your neck, finding solace and a grounding warmth in the feeling of your sweaty body beneath him. In the comfort of each other's arms, it doesn't take long for the two of you to fall asleep, the work that was meant to be getting done in Miguel's office long forgotten, and the promise of a future together hanging in the air like a dream come true.

this is disgustingly late. i hope it was worth the wait

[r0-boat]

Whb Amy Headcannons(+Sitri)

Random sfw&NSFW headcannons

Nothing pisses Amy off more than being treated less than his rank, He knows he's strong so he wants to be treated as such. You have ever are the only exception as much as he hates being babied You're the only one with the privilege In fact he craves it. It's like a wild tiger or lion purring and meowing as you run your fingers through his hair. He craves your touch and acts like a golden retriever when you're around. It pisses Sitri OFF because to him Amy is some vulgar animal that needs to be put down and here he was getting attention from the human he tends to be very possessive over.

Good Lord Levi would be proud from the amount of jealousy and envy seeping through him right now. And in turn Sitri gets more violent against him which probably disgusts you and babies him more. a constant cycle. Amy has caught on and is not helping citri turned his favorite teacup into dust from the way Amy smirked at him when you held him into your arms.

Scary dog privileges. He doesn't care if it's a king from another country or their subordinates. He will glare them down and growl like a beast only for you to turn around to see him smile pleasantly at you.

Sitri has deleted Amy's contact from your phone so many times that you've memorized it and has it written down somewhere.

As much as he cannot stand the idea Amy touching you he'd rather be in the same room trying to wedge his way in the middle then think about of what he and you might have done to each other.

Humans like gifts right? What do humans like??? He's never thought anything about love or romance and now that he likes you He's trying so hard to court you. Amy is not really good with words So the most he'll do is just give you gifts standing there awkwardly his face red and his eyes to the ground as he clutches of bouquet of crushed flowers in his hand. (He squeezed them too hard)

Absolutely melts for compliments when you say a compliment to him he starts brushing it off and degrading himself as if he doesn't deserve that compliment or he yells at you for being embarrassing. But he secretly loves it.

Is the kind of boyfriend that will let you do anything to him. Whether it be braiding his hair painting his nails or doodling on his hand. Piemon would be so jealous because Amy would never let him do that He truly does have a soft spot for you.

Amy is also prone to jealousy but his jealousy is not violent or intense hatred like Sitri's He just gets really needy and clingy hoping you would give him attention. Looking at you with puppy eyes. (Gehenna is just full of needy lap dog demons lol)

Nsfw

unlike Sitri, Amy is very gentle with you in bed out of a fear of somehow breaking you hurting your killing you. He will get better at this in overtime start treating your body more roughly if you want him too. When he had sex with Solomon He was not gentle and he tries to explain that you are not your ancestor. You are smaller softer and much different and he's afraid to hurt you.

Amy loves when you ride him, You're small human body squeezing around him as your hands scratch and hit him feels so good.

Yes it's no secret that he has a humiliation kink And he doesn't have enough courage to ask you to be mean to him like Sitri does.

Amy is Actually a little shy when it comes to sex. He looks at you as if this was the first time he's ever seen a naked body His eyes wide and full of hunger lust and wonder His large hands and fingers gently tracing over your naked body trying to memorize every little inch.

After he's first had to taste of you He could never go back constantly hard all the time thinking about you reducing him to a desperate mess reading into his blanket and pillows pretending he's inside you.

(Amy switch supremacy) from Tiny human over him treating him like shit hhhh please dominate him he'll be such a good boy for you too desperate animal fucking you full of his hot cum.