#and isn't that the thing that makes a man a beast

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Matt Montgomery - Closet Geek & Closet Freak

An Adult in Eltingville that actually acts like an adult???? WHAT???

Matthieu "Matt" / "Mattie" Thomas Montgomery [02/16/1978] Not Affiliated with TEC - Known Tournament winner amongst Jerry's MTG players. Cosplayer and College student in Manhattan. AOL / Online Users: [MTM_cosplay] | [GoblinHoarder] Theme Songs: Talk talk - Charli xcx | Move Along - All American Rejects | Somebody Told Me - The Killers

Favorite Shit: Trading Cards, Puzzles, Sports cards, Cosplays, X-Men, Monsters, Kaiju, Robots/Mecha, Dr. Who, Rubicks Cubes, Hard Cover books, YAPPERS, Movie Marathons, Beast, Wolverine, MTG, D&D, Cosplay Contests

I don't know how tf to describe this man other than tired and done with everybody's shit and he hasn't been awake more than an hour. He's three years into his bachelor's degree, essentially has 3 full time jobs between cosplay, tournaments, and all of his school work PLUS TUTORING, homie barely has enough time to breathe let alone deal with the TEC. However, that doesn't mean he won't find a way to weasel himself in-- even if its.... by unconventional or rather... *unexpected* means.

Guys I have like no art of him SORRY

Mattie generally only gets introduced very sparingly during 1999-2005, essentially in passing by Jerry or Josh, but he's still present and alive during this time, obviously. Him being friends with Jerry is what gets him to recognize Josh later.

Matt is studying for a Bachelors in English Comp, specializing in Journalism.

Speaking of, Josh and Matt work together at the editors office for the Comic Book News site in the epilogue. It's how they find each other again after Matt graduates and moves back home.

Matt is from northern Vermont, around the Canadian border, and has a bit of a Canadian accent because of it.

Everyone picks on him about it except for May and Jerry, (yes, even Josh, but it eventually becomes endearing to Matt.)

MATT. LIKES. YAPPERS. He doesn't talk much, he doesn't have much to talk about. Books and papers and trying to explain gymnastics routines isn't exactly the most interesting thing in the world, y'know.

He also doesn't have the time to really subject himself to the extreme absorption that Josh and Bill can get with their comics and shows, so.. Tell him about them!

He didn't get access to a lot of the more nerdy, pop culture side of things because of his parents. They had a significantly stronger iron grip on what he and his sister were exposed to, so he never really...

well, he didn't get to express his love for the more geek-y side of life until he moved to NY for college.

He became a professional cosplayer via his roommate forcing him to post, invited to events and photoshoots for his live floor routines he'll do in character, though he almost always wears a full-face mask or enough make up that you can barely tell who he is.

he can't have his sister finding out he dresses up as a blue demon freak in his spare time, yknow? (god she'd bully the shit out of him if she did--)

He's been in gymnastics since he was in middle school, and he's actually quite good; he's on a scholarship at his university, for pete's sake.

unfortunately a bad fall broke his clavicle and made it so he can't do vault anymore, but he enjoys his time doing floor routines and fucking around on the pommel horse from time to time.

Matt also.. is weirdly envious of TEC's... closeness? The fact they barely get along and yet they're all still together, they all still try and see each other or keep in touch..

He's never had that, and it makes him horrifically jealous, but he keeps it to himself-- smile and wave, swallow it down like normal, hm?

please subject him to a movie marathon. Infodump on him everything about whatever you're fixated on. He likes listening to people's voices, so please, just do it. It doesn't bother him at all.

This man has a TEMPER. His mother and his sister have this too, and it is BAD. Matt, however, learned ways to keep his temper at bay and calm down. to an extent. Bill, however, always manages to get his blood to boil by just the mention of him, so maybe... don't

Also, Matt and Pete absolutely bicker. A lot. Matt is constantly showing off that even though he's only an inch taller, he's able to do soOOSOooo much more! and Pete is convinced that Matt isn't actually gay and is trying to steal May away (guys Pete is such a fucking jealous goober I hate him)

Meanwhile literally the only person Matt wants is Josh. Pete should open his eyes maybe but like it's fine.

HOLY SHIT GYUSY

Okay UHM Hi Matt probably won't be talked about much but if you see me Vermont Honey posting it's because I need my comfort ship back okay THanks Also the NSFW cut is coming guys It's gonna have em all And I'll draw Jane and Matt's little sister soon, as they go to school together (Jane absolutely hates her guts OOPS unfortunately she's a bitchy cheerleader so you bet Jane has a voodoo doll of her somewhere in her room).

[sexisbetteronthemoon]

Can we have any insight into what’s going on in Lance’s head up until this point in the fic? What’s his opinion on Planet Red and Keith? (And the baby!)

thanks for the question!

ok, so, i spent most of the day thinking about how to answer this question and i'm still not quite sure? i might be overcomplicating things — i tend to do that, but it feels like a broad question since a lot has happened (it's a lot to cover lol). and i feel like i'll just be overexplaining things we already know. 😭 i'll be trying my best!

okay, this is going to be long and filled with spoilers, so if you haven't read sex is better on the moon to the current chapter (15), don't read this! putting this under a read more too.

so most of Lance's thoughts are in dialogue, actions, and subtext.

What Lance Thinks of Planet Red:

he's not jazzed about a planet that keeps trying to kill him, but it's also fear that stems from ignorance of the world around him. he complains a lot, but then there's the unicorn who brought him fruits (impressive), the kazoo bird that landed in his hair (cute, but embarrassing), and his baby girl, (the absolute best thing to ever exist!) so he understands there's both good and bad on this planet. he's also seen Keith handling animals and how it softens him, and that just makes him more appreciative.

the fact that they're dangerous animals sometimes, and Keith doesn't tend to show fear is also really reassuring to him and lessens his own!

then Keith teaches him things, and you'll notice a significant drop in his fear and complaints. and when Keith shows him the notebook, he reads the notes and realizes there's a lot more to observe about the world around him than the superficial. he starts seeing things differently. he pauses to look at creatures and plants.

and when Keith shows him the glowing flowers and moths, it's like the last nail in the coffin. he realizes Planet Red can be beautiful, and he comes to understand a little better why Keith likes it so much there.

What Lance Thinks of Keith:

at first, he's wary and unimpressed by what he sees, even a little afraid of Keith. he's just crash landed on the planet and he's scared and alone, and there's this wildman that looks more beast than man. keep in mind that Lance is the crown prince, and thus has never been treated like Keith has treated him in his life.

people always present their best faces (even if they're false or sneering) in front of Lance, and he's used to that. but then there's Keith who manhandles him and scoffs at him and throws blankets at him. he treats Lance like he is just another person who has to earn respect instead of automatically (forcefully) giving it.

and how does Keith start off? by being surly, rude, and intimidating.

Keith also calls him "princess", which leads Lance to believe that Keith knows who he is, and might even have something to do with the attack on his ship, hence the distrust in the beginning.

and then Keith keeps saving and protecting him (and despite Keith's bark, he keeps letting Lance have his way) even when Lance sometimes makes things harder for him. he's concluded that Keith is ornery and antisocial, but Lance begins to see that there's an actual person under all the hair and dirt. and he finds that Keith could really be someone he can depend on.

this leads him into revealing his name.

then Keith actually starts a tickle fight and calls him beautiful, which takes Lance off guard and makes him realize that Keith's not just the man that's helping him, but a man, with desires and wants, that thinks Lance is beautiful. suddenly, Keith isn't just "that mountain man who helps me", but "that man of flesh and blood who might genuinely find me attractive and i'm entirely alone with at all times".

at this point, Lance is well aware that Keith has an attractive body, given he's seen him naked a few times already and also been held against that muscle at night.

but finding someone attractive doesn't mean he wants to start something, and it goes for both of them. so Lance keeps his boundaries pretty clear and firm! he's very adamant in Keith not peeking at him while he changes, bathes, pops a squat etc.

at the same time, Lance is trying his best to get to know Keith, and Keith keeps resisting until he finally gives in at the swamp, where he tells Lance he's from Earth and lonely sometimes.

and when Keith gives him the comb for his hair, Lance learns Keith is thoughtful and actually listens to him when he talks.

skipping Keith's poisoning. Lance was terrified the entire time.

When Lance gets to see Keith's notebook with the various sketches of himself, he realizes Keith doesn't just find him attractive, but that he likes Lance. you don't just draw someone over and over without feeling some type of way, ya know? and Lance might be clueless about survival, but he's not socially inept like Keith is (and he learned survival from Keith, so he's not clueless about that anymore either!)

the most significant change happens after Keith takes Lance frog gigging. that night, it's the first time that Lance doesn't get on Keith's case about peeking at him. Keith is the one who brings it up and turns away, but Lance didn't actually say he should look away. before this, Lance was very quick about snapping at Keith. so... 👀 i believe this says everything.

from this point on, Lance starts flirting, flustering Keith.

it doesn't last very long, though, as this is when the pollen makes them fall asleep, there's the alleged dream of the yellow caterpillar, and Kosmo nearly dies, and then the bird woman shows up.

and now there's a point of contention between Lance and Keith, because Lance has realized Keith has a tendency to throw himself in harm's way to save Lance, while Lance wants nothing more than to watch his back and help in any way that he can.

Lance is also sticking up for himself and establishing himself as Keith's equal, such as when he tells Keith not to shove him again. he's pushing back against Keith who has so far done all the leading and decision-making. he's trying to prove that he can be a partner instead of a weight to carry.

then Keith starts putting distance between them, and Lance is hurt by that. thus far, he has been attempting to get closer to Keith, chipping away at his layers, and suddenly, Keith is saying that once Lance leaves, he'll never come back. we saw Keith be confused by Lance's sudden emotional distance and snappish attitude, and it was a direct reaction to Keith's claim that Lance "can forget about this place entirely".

and we're back to the glowing flowers and moths.

this was a very big deal. so far, Keith has proven himself to be kind of a hardass who drives them both hard for the sake of keeping Lance safe and them both ahead of The Six. but then Keith stops them at a pond for a little date (not a date, but so totally a date, we all know it). and several things become very clear to Lance

1) it's in the opposite direction of where they need to go.

2) they only have eleven days to get to Keith's cabin.

3) The Six are still around

and yet, there they are. because Keith thought Lance would enjoy it.

now, it's not a secret that Keith has certain feelings for Lance. Lance knows this! it's as obvious as the nose on his face! but Keith insinuated they would have no further contact after Lance leaves.

and so this date pretty much cements the idea that Keith is once again being socially inept and/or pulling away on purpose, and that it's up to Lance to make it clear what he wants between them. thus, the flirting picks up again, but it's like flirting with a brick wall tbh. Keith is NOT making it easy.

now, i'm sure we've all noticed Lance has a secret. seeing as we're heading toward it, i won't say much more on the subject, but HOO BOY.

What Lance Thinks of Kosmo:

perfect in every conceivable way. 1000/10. wouldn't change a thing.

What Kosmo Thinks of Everything:

Planet Red: lives here! it's perfect! plenty of food and room to play!

Lance: doesn't know how to use his nose, but still a perfect adoptive parent! beautiful! good hugs, excellent scritches! makes noises that make the tail go swoosh-woosh. always has food, love, and attention for Kosmo! 1000/10

Keith: also doesn't know how to use his nose. protective pack leader, but bad mate material. keeps ignoring pheromones potential mate is putting out. forgets to let potential mate eat first. doesn't participate in social grooming but allows attempts from potential mate. gives good scritches and always leaves best pieces of food for Kosmo. 999/10

-

anon, i hope i didn't misunderstand your ask (i haven't eaten, so i'm not firing on all cylinders orz). if i did, then that's my bad. feel free to ask for clarification 😅 or if you wanted a specific scene, you can ask for that too!

[evolutionsvoid]

Though wormfolk like to keep things simple, it does not mean their culture is lacking. Their lives can contain more than just bathing in waste pools, as they too take part in customs, rituals and beliefs. There are different roles within their villages, and even wormfolk who leave their homes to find new paths for them to slither. There is richness to their lives, though it may pale in comparison to what man does. If one is truly interested in learning the extra layers of wormfolk culture, they simply need to seek out an Intestinal Sage.

The Intestinal Sages are a vital part of any wormfolk community. Their title may suggest they are simple dispensers of wisdom, yet their role is a bit more varied. They are a fusion of elder leader, storyteller, sage and wizard, taking bits and pieces from each. Intestinal Sages are not the undisputed leaders of a village, but their words certainly carry hefty authority. They speak of wisdom, prophecy and legends, dispensing whichever is needed at the time. They carry within them the myths of their kind, going back to when they lived within the Hostia Prima. They will speak of how wormkind was born within the Intestinal Cradle, and how they lived carefree in an internal paradise. But greed and gluttony took its toll, and the wormfolk were faced with a dead host. From here, their first civilization fell to ruin, but thankfully they were able to survive. Though much of their ancient knowledge and ways were lost, the Intestinal Sages retain what fragments remain and weave new tales to fill gaps and teach lessons. Wormfolk lost one home already, there is no excuse to make the same mistake again.

Intestinal Sages are also turned to when it comes to fortune telling and magic. They are well versed in the art of haruspicy, in which the future is gleaned from the entrails of sacrificed beasts. When hunters for the village bring forth a great prize, the Intestinal Sage is called forth to cut it open and read its insides so that all may be gifted with wisdom. Scatomancy may also be used at times to divine information on one's life and health. Another way for them to gain visions, or to impart them to others, is through the creation of the hallucinogenic "Reek." Reek is made from fermented waste, often sealed within pots for weeks, then uncovered so that the potent vapors can be inhaled. Such a drug is used to glimpse prophecies or knowledge from beyond, though many humans who imbibe nowadays do it purely for the high. Though it has become profitable for wormfolk to sell these noxious jars to desperate folk seeking escapism, Intestinal Sages certainly grumble to themselves on how their art has become a toy of debauchery.

In times of conflict, Intestinal Sages are able to wield magic, calling upon the fluids of Rot (also called Effluvium). Such spells are foul and fetid things, wielding noxious gases and foul globs of waste and decay. Though few outside of wormkind would stoop to such disgusting arts (as the odor takes days to fade), there is no denying their effectiveness. Their waves and sprays of Effluvium can eat through armor and corrode weapons, while fighters struggle to attack when vomiting from vile gases. If it is possible, Intestinal Sages prefer to avoid violence, and instead aim to disarm and debilitate foes. Stripping them of their tools of war and leaving them gagging is often enough to end a battle. But if their enemies refuse to back off, even when robbed of weapons and senses, then they will sadly accept the need to kill. For outsiders, they find this pacifism odd, especially when gazing upon one cloaked in intestines and membranes. But is this hesitancy truly so bizarre? Isn't it the parasite who knows what is lost in death of another?

To the wormfolk, the intestines are the organa they associate most with. Though it is not officially recognized by the Church as one, it does not matter to them. There is no denying its purpose within the body, the crucial role it plays for god and man. Even humans see the ties between the wormfolk and this ignored organa. One need only look upon these faithful worms to see the comparison. It is said that a wormfolk coiled around one of their egg sacs serves as a perfect symbol for this organa. To show that even the lowly and foul are a part of something greater. Their image serves as a reminder that even parasites belong to this world, as we are all born from the ancient carcasses that came before us.

[death-rebirth-senshi]

"Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented."

[beatcroc]

pest control.

bonus:

*UPDATE: i made a sequel

[domeniudulce]

The idea that Gascoigne and Henryk were hunting partners (presumably with Henryk being Gascoigne's elder and mentor) and that Viola was Henryk's daughter is the funniest shit. Like how do you think that went over.

[belladonnafleur]

welp

[1shadowhole]

Alright alright I have a question.

Footloose... About Following the Beast...

If Thomas Eliot Osmond of the Canterbury Osmonds is Tommy

And Reginald Worthington III is Reggie

And Olivander Laird is Ollie.

Does that mean...

That Arthur Pendragon is Artie?

AND IF THAT IS THE CASE

How did Arthur's friends get to call the antichrist Artie?

And how do they react to the news of who exactly Arthur is when he eventually takes over the world?

I love these three psychopaths so much that I'd read a whole book about them.

[ozzgin]

More of the yandere monster???? Like their married life, him being such a cutie cutie and the reader is a willing person to his yandere tendencies. Like him physically fighting someone for flirting with her for .01 second and her just being 😍🥰

Alright anon, seeing as this has once again resurfaced, I'll cover a little bit of marital life as per your suggestion. (I'm hoping you're referring to the older sibling monster)

Yandere! Monster Husband x Reader

A little change of plans and the wedding you've been kidnapped for continued without a hitch, except you married the monstrous sibling instead. Made for an awkward celebratory dinner, but no one dared to oppose the Beast.

Content: female reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, saga of the monster hoe reader continues

[First part]

The next family dinner was quiet. You couldn't help but wonder if your horniness had gone too far, slowly chewing your food and occasionally peeking at the ex-groom with remorseful eyes. Poor guy, you thought. "Well, it's quite convenient, isn't it?" he finally said, breaking the silence. The cutlery sounds paused, and you lifted your gaze again. The man flashed you a radiant smile, which emphasized his handsome features even more. "I mean, we weren't sure we'd ever find a wife for my brother. He has a bit of an attitude, and even monsters are afraid of him. The only marriage attempt-" his speech was interrupted by a grunt, and you turned towards your monstrous boyfriend. The older sibling was frowning, visibly embarrassed. "Oh, I remember!" the mother of the siblings, a halfling herself, suddenly chuckled into her glass, taking a generous sip before continuing: "We'd arranged for a fellow monster to meet him, and the poor soul got so frightened she blended in with the background! Took us two days to find her! She came from a chameleon family, I recall."

Everyone at the table began to laugh and you joined, although with a mild annoyance tinged into your voice. So what, there was no reason for you to be plagued by guilt? You even refused a night escapade with your boyfriend until things "settled", as a way to be respectful towards the cucked party. All for naught. At least now you could be ravaged without further consequences. When the mother in law had pulled you aside hours earlier to make sure you weren't coerced into this arrangement, you had to hold back from crassly confessing you'd slurp her son empty of fluids at any hour of the day. Some things are better left untold.

Unfortunately, one detail couldn't be changed in time: the guest list. As this had been an event meant to strengthen the ties between humans, no one outside of the immediate family graced the venue with their monstrous presence. Many guests were intrigued by the outcome of the affair, terribly curious to see the famed wife-to-be of the gruesome, feared Head of the royal army. Even more so once they discovered it was a regular human by all means. "Fascinating!", the old ladies would occasionally cry out, clutching the plump, expensive pearls adorning their necks. You had to frequently excuse yourself in order to dodge the rather indecent questions regarding your relationship. Except when you did manage to sneak away, one of the younger men of names and titles you never registered would approach you for a dance. "Truly a pitiful matter", they'd whisper much too close to your ear. "You would've made a lovely bride for a fellow human."

"You're unexpectedly calm about this", the prince mentioned to his older brother at some point during the wedding night. "Are you not bothered by all the acquaintances flocking to your bride?" The monster shook his head with a sigh. He hadn't known you for that long yet, but one thing he was certain of: it's not humans he needed to fear.

Indeed, having a wife with a monster kink is particularly challenging when most of the husband's work involves similar creatures. The first months after the marriage were stalked by the insidious doubt that his luck was just that: mere coincidence. Would you have displayed the same interest had he not been the only beast at the table? Would you still pick him in a room full of monsters? Such questions followed him each day, feeding into an ever-growing jealousy.

"What are you doing here!", he exclaimed in despair once he noticed your arrival at his training camp. "You forgot your lunch", you explained, eyebrows raised in confusion. Oh, for fuck's sake. He quickly pulled you away, glaring at the subordinates startled by the commotion. They must've been eyeing (Y/N) like rabid dogs, he thought. Next thing you know, you'll be scooped away by some horned scoundrel. He can't have that.

Initially, the rage-filled, obsession-driven fuck you'd receive almost daily was welcomed with shameless begging. The way your monster husband would pin you down under his claws and thrust into you so hard, you could see its movement in waves across your stomach. The way he'd forcefully spread your legs, hungrily sinking his nails into the soft flesh of your thighs and gnawing your shoulders in delirious need. The tears that sheepishly formed in the corners of your hooded eyes would only incite him more. "Bite onto my hand if you can't take it anymore", he'd coo without stopping. As much as you liked to be left a limp, drooling mess, the soreness grew unbearable. Enough was enough when you found yourself carrying a cushion to sit down on any surface.

"Listen, we need to have a talk." You greeted him solemnly once he returned from his military duties. Oh, no. Absolutely not. The monstrous husband bit his lips in panic, immediately going through a mental list of all his subordinates. Or was it someone in the family that slithered their way into your heart? Is that what it was about, that you'd found a different creature? No matter, you weren't going anywhere. "I don't want to hear about it", he declared dramatically. "I have a bruised cervix!" you shouted in disbelief. "Huh?" He stared at you. "It hurts even when I lay down, man. You have to tone it down. At least for a little while."

Ah. Awkward. You noticed his flinch, and patted the empty seat next to you. "What did you think I was going to say?" The bench groaned under the weight of his gargantuan body. Hands folded in his lap like a punished schoolboy, your husband began to narrate the tale of his seething envy and frenzied passion for you. You must understand, he's never cared for anyone as much. To hell with duty and honor, he would kill his own father if his touch on you lingered one second longer than permitted. "Alright, but you must control yourself a little", you reminded him gently. "Never, my urge to obliterate any threat in my path is insatiable", he concluded with vehemence. "Yes, yes, that I understand. The sex, I mean", you gesticulated. "Of course. My apologies, I got sidetracked."

Somehow, he didn't expect to leave this conversation with a cathartic approval of his possessiveness. "Surely you must be upset by my fanatical behavior", he suggested meekly. "Oh no, it's part of your charm", you reassured him with a smile. "It's just not that sustainable in bed without the occasional break." You pat your stomach to express your misfortune.

Sadly, your monster fucking dreams must adhere to the laws of biology.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

The "what if a cishet romantic man wanted to come to queer meetings" thing was one of the things that helped me (a trans man) see how marginalised men's masculinity is weaponised against us. Because the hypothetical cishet aro man isn't being constructed as dangerous because he's feminine or related to womanhood in any way; he's constructed because his deviance means he's "missing" something that's "supposed to keep the bad parts of men in check". This isn't to say that aro women don't get shit, they absolutely do, it was just a real turning point in my personal understanding of marginalised masculinities

yeah specifically re: the deviance factor, I remember a lot of the strawman arguments around the hypothetical cisgender heterosexual allosexual aromantic man being "allowed" in queer spaces hinged on the assumption that this man would also be a pseudo sexual predator bent on hooking up with as many women as possible and then using his aromantic status as an excuse to ghost or otherwise treat them badly. frequently this came with speculation that cishet men would falsely claim aromantic identity, so as to have a built-in excuse for such behavior and shut down any potential objections.

which is like. I mean, it's bullshit for a lot of reasons.

one of the most egregious issues to me is the audacity of people acting like hanging out in a queer space with the intent of having sex is some kind of evil invasive force, as if many queer spaces, historically, have no been organized around the principal of trying to fuck and be fucked, and as if plenty of those hookups haven't led to ghostings or breakups exactly as careless and hurtful as the proposed scenario involving our cis allo aro man would be, but it's supposedly worse because he's? a yucky man? the increasing distrust of sexual attraction in many young, allegedly left-leaning spaces is its own alarming beast and I don't want to get into the whole thing here, but jesus christ.

I just. I cannot take seriously the idea that I'm supposed to be threatened by a man who MIGHT exist and MIGHT want to have sex with someone, and make any serious decisions based on the specter of this guy possibly being out there somewhere. get a grip.

[shotmrmiller]

1.8k of what was supposed to be a drabble, oops. same au as this just different situation.

there he is.

the titan the crowd calls Ghost. a creature who seemed to have crawled out of the abyss itself, rage etched into the very marrow of his bones. scars crisscross his arms, chest, and back— souvenirs of battles both won and lost. no one knows much about him. no real name, no past, no future. blank.

a void.

just like his sunken eyes, the only thing anyone can see from behind the midnight black skull balaclava that clings to his face like a second skin. (does he even remember what he looks like underneath?) he stands in front of the club's owner in ragged clothing: a tattered wifebeater that's been stitched, torn, and re-stitched. his pants have strained seams and patched knees. his boots are high cut, made of worn, scuffed leather with laces in the front, pulled tight. functional.

he's terrifying. most here come to fight for glory, for redemption, for escape. not he, though. reverent whispers claim this is all he knows. that he fights like a cornered, wounded beast, with no discipline nor strategy. just primal hunger and unmatched ferocity.

and that's who your idiotic, egotistical boyfriend wants to fight. granted, he's a pretty damn good boxer. not that you'd know much about that, you're simply parroting what you've heard his coach say. but this isn't boxing. no one here wears a padded helmet, with comfortable gloves and silky shorts. the fellow with the mohawk currently fighting isn't even wearing a mouthguard, for fuck's sake.

there are no fucking rules, no referees, no honor, no mercy.

your shoulders rise up to your ears as you tense at a nasty blow the pretty one you've come to learn is named gaz gives mr. mohawk. it splits his lip instantaneously, crimson dribbling down his chin and onto his barrel chest. he should be in pain, but there's only a glint of madness in those bright blue eyes of his. the crazed smile he gives gaz is all blood-stained teeth.

your boyfriend taps you on your shoulder, making you jump. "i'm gonna go talk to mr. price now that he's no longer busy."

what?

"no! you can't be serious!" the metal chair you were seated on screeches as you shoot up and run after him, feet slipping on the mud-slicked floor. "hey! wait!"

he reaches the tall, burly man(broker?) with the antiquated mutton-chop beard before you do. the tailored suit clings to his large frame, molding to his mountainous shoulders and tapered waist. his polished shoes are pristine, unlike the surface he's standing on that's littered with wager slips and sodden with cheap beer.

"don't. be smart, fight smart. you can't possibly— did you see the way the one with the mohawk took a hit to the face without flinching? he's insane! they all are!" you flick your eyes to mr. price. "no offense."

he chuckles low. "none taken, sweetheart. soap's a vigorous man, is all."

soap. gaz. ghost. they've all got bloody fighting nicknames. meanwhile, the only thing your boyfriend's ever been called is dearie by his elderly neighbor.

"your pretty girl's right. i'd steer clear of the pit. this ain't no place for a sheltered bloke such as yourself." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, yet it felt like a facade. the evenness of his tone had dread crawling up your spine.

"boss." you squeak at the deep voice that comes from beside you— accent thick on his tongue.

mr. price waves a hand dismissively, the rings that adorn his fingers glinting under the dim light of the overhead lamps. "it's nothin' but a couple a'folk placin' their bets."

the look of unfettered stupidity flashes on your boyfriend's face as he turns his head and realizes just who mr. price was talking to. "if it isn't the masked specter himself."

stupid. stupid stupid stupid. god, your boyfriend came in one piece but he's going to leave in bloody pieces if you don't stop him. "stop," you hiss. "this ridiculous stint of yours is over." as is this sorry excuse of a relationship. he'd been a sweet guy at some point, or maybe you were just blinded by his good looks. "sorry for the bother, mr. price. we'll be taking our leave." tugging on your boyfriend's sleeve, you try to lead him away but he stays anchored in place, posturing like a peacock; chest out, shoulders squared and head held high.

he looks at ghost as he challenges him. "name your price. anything, i can meet."

how he can be so blasé in the presence of this bastion is beyond you. ghost stands tall, his shadow engulfing you whole. you can feel the weight of his presence, a crushing force pressing against your sternum. he doesn't speak; and honestly, he doesn't have to. ghost's silence spoke volumes.

"he's not interested, see? let's just go before we're thrown out on our arses."

but your boyfriend doesn't concede. if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire. "not good enough for you? eh? is that it? think yourself untouchable just because you're king of the underbelly?" he goads.

your cheeks are hot, scalding with embarrassment. he's starting to garner attention from the audience that's supposed to be watching the current fight.

and then ghost breaks said silence. "i don't want your money." his rich voice reverberates through bone and marrow; it rattles your very core. "you didn't work hard for it, i can tell. golden spoon runt."

your boyfriend's eyes ignite with anger. for a moment, you thought he was going to swing on the spot, but then, like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated. his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes. "what do you want, then?" he questions.

ghost tips his head your way as he keeps his gaze on your boyfriend. "her. i win, she's mine."

you should've known your now ex would agree. nothing would keep him from accomplishing his goals of 'putting the big dog down' as he so eloquently put it. now you're firmly sat right next to price on the stands (because you will not be calling him john anytime soon, no matter how many times he corrects you) essentially as his hostage.

"nothing personal, sweetheart. i'm a businessman, after all, and the prize walkin' out the front door would be bad for business. hope you understand."

no, you don't. so you tell him as such.

"tha's alright. simon'll take good care of ya, i promise."

"is there any particular reason you're so cocksure of your simon winning?" you manage to ask, your voice fragile.

he takes a thick inhale of his cigar before answering. "unfortunately for you, i've seen it all— the broken bones, shattered dreams, and—" you watch tendrils of smoke unfurl from his mouth, "adversaries who never walked back out."

spectators have already begun to huddle around the cage, puffing on cheap cigarettes. they all look desperate, eyes gleaming with greed. this time the one collecting wagers is a blonde woman, older in age, with her hair in a low bun and a puffer vest. "that your wife?"

he curls a large hand around my shoulder before twisting to look at— "laswell? no. don't swing tha' way." price gives you a gentle squeeze.

oh. you can feel warmth creeping up your neck. "sorry. didn't mean to- er. i didn't know."

"'s'alrigh'. her wife's nice enough. you'll like 'er.'' her wife? the confusion must've shown because he rumbles out a laugh. "no. it'd be me barkin' up the wrong tree. i—" he tightens the grip on your shoulder, "like whatever's pretty to look at." his words from before resounded in your head.

'your pretty girl's right...'

the heat that'd receded now stung the tips of your ears. whatever words you want to say are lodged in your throat but thankfully, you're saved by the bell. literally.

the rusty thing tolls and the crowd hushes their voices and stills their restless shuffling. first walks in your ex (idiot), looking exactly like what ghost had called him earlier— a golden spoon child. his shorts are glossy, even under the flickering, sickly light that falls over the cage. his boxing gloves are a vibrant red, pristine as if right out of the box. (you don't remember soap getting his pretty face broken by hands with gloves, but whatever.) he looks perfect, like something out of a hollywood movie.

and so out of place.

unlike ghost who's just stepped into the ring— who commands the attention of all within the hazy room. he fits right in with the rats who scurry around in the bowels of the city. he moves like the shadows that cling to the dark corners, his steps silent as whispers. a haunted being— one the world above with its neon signs and bustling crowds has long forgotten— has made his home down here.

ghost bumps his mma gloves with your ex's boxing ones, in a show of surprising sportsmanship.

the bell tolls once again, and the fight begins.

and just as quickly as it began, it ended. you blink, momentarily displaced, because there is no way what just happened is real. there hadn't been no real fight. it'd been one devastating blow to the side of your ex's jaw that ended everything. he hadn't stood a chance. it—

"'s done. sorry, love. but simon's headin' this way to claim his prize." price gives you a sympathetic pat to your back. "i swear it on my life he won't harm a hair on your head."

what?

ghost barrels through the roaring crowd and comes to a stop before you. "you're with me, now. best get used to it." shock blurs your vision, or maybe it's the fact that you've been hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder that did it.

it doesn't matter. the one you came here with is currently lying limp on the stained mat, his mouth hanging open a little awkwardly. is he broken? you're put down on a bench in a large dressing room that has only one tall locker in it with a tiny ghost sticker on the front.

"did you... is he dead?" you ask, pulse quickening.

"no. either dislocated or broke tha' jaw of 'is only."

you sputter when metal clinks on the surface of the wooden table he's currently leaning his weight against. dusters? "you used fucking dusters?"

he turns his head and looks at you, piercing and intense. "you and i both know i didn't need anythin' to knock his teeth down his throat, isn't tha' right, pet? eh?"

his knuckles are calloused and heavily scarred, the little finger bent at an angle even when straight. "don't worry 'bout him, you're with me, now." he shrugs on a plain, black jacket and heads for the door. "try to leave and i'll jus' find you again. don't make this any harder than it has to be."

welcome to the rat king's domain, sweetheart.

[rosenclaws]

Lost || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You risk your life on missions when you shouldn't. Logan can't stand it. He thinks it's because you want to play hero. It isn't until something shifts that he realizes there's more to it. That the two of you are more alike than ever.

warnings: Suicidal ideation, implied Self harm (scratching), depressive thoughts and feelings, self hatred manifesting in different ways, mostly the reader is very mean to themselves, the reader is having a mental spiral basically, poor eating, angst, injuries, hopeful ending.

wc: 3.3k

a/n: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This fic contains very triggering topics and if you think that reading or being exposed to them will hurt you please DO NOT READ. I value peoples well being over this fic 1000%. If I'm being honest this was my own kind of therapy. The way I wrote the reader's thought process and feelings is a lot like my own. I've been going through it a little and I just needed to get something out. I would also like to disclaimer that I am okay! Please take care of yourself first and be gentle to yourself. If you need someone to talk to my dms and inbox are open or please consider reaching out to someone

Things worked like clockwork around here. The kid would go to class. Do their homework. Play outside. The adults would be training or teaching. Dinner was at the same time every night. Occasionally the team would get sent on a mission and even then things worked like they normally did.

Scott led the team with a plan, Logan usually ignored that plan, Ro got between them when their childish bickering got to be too much, and you all got home just fine.

"Again?" Beast is shaking his head as you hobble into the lab again. A pained smile on your face as Scott helps you onto the cold metal table. 

"What can I say beastie, I just love your company." You groan as he gently touches your side. A sharp pain shoots through your body and dark spots cloud your vision.

 "Broken ribs, definitely." He mutters as he writes something down. He asks you to follow his finger and you do your best. 

"Concussion. Again." You wince as his tone grows harsher.

 "Superficial cuts and bruises." The list goes on and on as you're examined.

"Can you just prescribe me some pain meds and let go? That's what we did last time." You ask and he just looks at you like a disappointed parent.

 "We did that last time and the time before that and the time before that. This is your third concussion and I can't even remember how many broken ribs." You feel like a child as he starts lecturing you on safety and the dangers of missions and blah blah blah.

Look you get that this isn't great but you're an X-Man right? They help people by any means even when the world seems to hate them. So you're helping people by putting yourself in harms way. Even your teammates.

 "I really don't understand why you continue to do this to yourself." Beast injects something into your arm and you flinch.

 "Fuck! A little warning next time please." You rub your arm and close your eyes as the exhaustion is starting to catch up to you. 

"No missions for at least three months." He says to Scott who you forgot was still there. 

"What!" You shoot up and double over in pain from your ribs.

 "Come on, you can't bench me for three months." You whine as you look at Scott. 

"Our top priority is that you're safe and healthy firefly." Scott says and you scoff. 

"No our top priority is helping people." He sighs and pats you on the shoulder. Great, is this another scolding? Beasts was like a parent but Scott was always more brotherly than anything.

 "Firefly, We understand the want to help but you can't help people if you keep getting hurt. You throw yourself into danger without even thinking about it." 

"So does Logan!" You protest but you know the argument is futile.

 "Logan has rapid healing factor. You don't. Look, just take the three months okay? Please? We worry about you." Scott says with such sincerity it makes you feel a little bad. 

"Okay fine." You mumble in agreement. Satisfied with your answer Scott leaves, letting Hank patch you up. You're silent as you think back to the mission.

It was dangerous. You weren't dealing with low level grunts or something. These people were deadly. They weren't going to spare anyone. Rogue and Jubilee joined the mission and as much as you loved them they weren't ready. The fight was getting messier and exhaustion was kicking in.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jubilee and Rogue barely fighting off their attackers. Without thinking you jump in to help them. The calls to retreat came and you saw Logan come help the three of you. His claws sliced his way through. 

"Get back to the ship!" He growled as he took down yet another man. Everyone else was safe except for the four of you. 

"Go, I'll be right behind you!" You yell over your shoulder.

You put up a wall to block the bullets as you walk back. In your head you know how this plays out. You get on the ship and they shoot it down, killing you all. Or you don't make it. Or a million other ways it can go wrong. As Logan grabs Jubilee and Rouge and pulls them onto the ship he holds his hand out to you.

 "We need to go!" Without thinking you take down you start to build energy in your hands. The wall wavers as the bullets continue. 

"Quit fucking around and get in here!" Logan roars. Sorry Logan, you tend to ignore him anyways on missions. Which is how you tend to get hurt but you always end up okay. 

"I got this!" You can hear Logan's angry shouting as the plane door closes. They had no choice but to listen to you. A bullet pierces your wall and rips through your side. You let out a cry as your knee buckles. Sweat pours down your face as you gather every last bit of your energy into your hands.

 "Eat shit." You snarl as you make eye contact with who you assume was the leader.

You release the energy and it blasts through everyone and everything around you. The ship is safe due to protective measures but you aren't. The blowback slams you into the hard jet doors. A sickening crunch as your body hits the cold metal. Your vision becomes hazy as you hit the ground hard. Spots dancing in your vision as you crawl away from the jet.

Everything fucking hurt. You vaguely hear the doors opening again and the hands-on your face. Someone's talking to you but you don't register a thing they say. Which landed you back in the lab. Right now getting patched up.

"Thanks Hank." You say as you hop off the table. You decline any help getting to your room and awkwardly walk to the doors. To your surprise, Logan stands right outside of them. Arms crossed a really pissed off look on his face. 

"Logan, always a pleasure." You flash a smile and he rolls his eyes. He stalks after you as you walk slowly to the elevator. 

"Did Charles send you to check up on me or something because I'm really not in the mood." 

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He snarls. He slams his hand on a button and the elevator stops.

 "Logan I really want to go to bed." You groan as you try to push past him but to no avail. It was like a brick wall.

 "No, you're going to shut up and listen. I don't know what compels you to be so incredibly stupid but you need to fucking quit it." You shrink under his harsh words.

 "I've seen people like you before, always trying to play hero. You're reckless. Putting yourself into danger so you can be the one to save the day." You let him rip into you. Not speaking a word he slams his hand on the button and the elevator moves again.

 "Nothing to say?" He rolls his eyes and storms out of the elevator. 

"I'm sorry." You whisper to no one as the elevator doors close on you.

No one sees you for a while. You stay locked up in your room. Not even coming out for food. Every day some student brings food to your door and leaves it there. You wonder who told them to do that. Jean maybe, probably 'Ro. 

Sometimes you take it just so they don't worry but other times you leave it there until the next plate comes. You spend your day staring at the ceiling or sleeping. Sometimes though you're too tired to sleep. Does it make sense? No but it's how you feel. Logan's words replaying in your head.

If Beast and Scott were like family, Logan was something more. As much as you tried to hide it your feelings had changed, evolved from friendly into something more. You cared so much about what he thinks of you even when you don’t want to. You can’t help it. 

So his words cut deeper than anyone else's. You aren't trying to be a hero or take the glory. But maybe you are? Maybe you want that love and recognition from people, from him. Does it matter though? What your intentions were?

Apparently, you come across as an egotistical reckless person with a hero complex. It's not like that. You argue with yourself about it all the time. Shifting from hero to villain in an instant. You're selfish. You do it for attention. 

No wonder he thinks that way. Does everyone else think so too? But you care. You're an X-men but you aren't one of the X-men. You're not the one people think of when they come to save the day and you're okay with that. Your expendable. Better you than them. Right? You've hurt people in your past. You aren't worthy of this life. This family. You need to prove yourself. Sacrifice yourself if needed.

The spiral won't stop. It never. Stops. You can't get it to stop. You just want peace. Just one day where you don't wake up and feel guilt in everything you do. A loud knock on your door rings through your room but you don't move. 

"Hey." It's Logan. What is he doing here?

 "Look I uh, I shouldn't have snapped at you. The other day." You can tell he's struggling to get his thoughts out. Not that he didn't want to do it, he just didn't know how.

 "I was angry." He waits a few moments and you hear a frustrated growl. 

"Come on firefly, you've been holed up here long enough." You roll onto your side to face the door. Looking at his shoes through the small crack in the bottom. He's pacing.

 "Seriously I-er We're getting worried alright?" You don't catch the slip of his tongue. Too wrapped up feeling guilty. Again. Guilty for hurting your team, for not understanding what was wrong with you. Guilty for even feeling this way in the first place. 

"I thought you should know that Remy's making your favorite dinner." You hear him sigh and walk away. More guilt creeps up on you. You're making everyone worry about you.

 You're being selfish, just pull it together. Beating yourself up over and over again. As the sun goes down the smell of dinner wafts through your room. It doesn't normally do that so you suspect someone is trying to lure you out. Enough of this.

You get up and change your clothes. You stop and look in the mirror, trying to put on your best smile. You don't look very convincing but it should be fine. Peeking your head out you hear a lot of voices coming from the kitchen. You quietly walk into the doorway.

It takes a second but someone notices you and then everyone does. The talking dies down as they just stare at you. It's really uncomfortable. You feel terrible for making them worry. You don't deserve to be worried about like this.

 "All this for me?" You joke and thankfully the room grows louder again.

You say hi to some of the people who come up to you. A plate is placed in front of you and you graciously accept it. Looking across the room you can see Logan staring at you. He's silent but watching your every move. 

"So how's recovery coming? You've been taking bed rest pretty seriously." Scott says with a smile.

You know he doesn't mean anything by it but for some reason, it stings. Like you've been lazy or something. You're a mutant. Recovery shouldn't take this long. You're not putting in the work. You're wasting your time. You don't get to rest. 

"Hey? Firefly?" You snap out of it and put on a smile.

 "Going great, it's nice being able to sleep without interruption." People seem to accept that answer and the conversation moves on.

You pick at your food, moving it around your plate and chopping it up but never putting it in your mouth. It's your favorite meal but you just, can't bring yourself to eat it right now.

The room is so full of talking and laughter but for some reason, you feel a million years away. Like you're lonely. Really, really lonely. How can that even be? To feel so alone while being surrounded by so many people. 

As dinner wraps up you quietly slip out. Sneaking out to the gardens instead. It's cold and you have no coat but you don't care. Some fresh air is what you need. Maybe the trees can tell you what's wrong with you. You find a small bench and sit down.

The stars shine so nicely tonight. You wonder what it'd be like to be a star. If it's freeing to be up so high. Or is it lonely? To lack the warmth of the sun and be a million light years away from each other. 

"What are you doing out here?" Logan stands in front of you. You hadn't even noticed him. 

"Nothing." He lights a cigar and takes a seat next to you. His legs spread out, knocking his knees into yours. 

"So you wanna tell me what's going on?" 

"What are you talking about?" You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hide away. 

"You may have fooled everyone else but I know somethings going on in that head of yours." You just shrug. 

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit." Logan scoffs. You watch the soft glow of cigar ash tumble to the ground.

The light dies out as it hits the cold cement. He wants to help, or at least he wants to listen. For some reason, you can't get the words you. Anger replaces any rational thought. You want him to leave, to not care so damn much.

"Why do you even care? Last time I checked you don't do these heart to hearts." You snap.

The cold air bites your face and you shiver. Your nails scratch down your arms harshly. The slight stinging soothes you in some fucked up way. Logan notices and grabs onto your hand. Taking it and holding it in his warm one. 

"Just leave me alone Logan." You try taking your hand away but he won't let you.

"No. You're right I don't do the sappy shit but this is different. It's more than you're letting on." You feel a pit forming in your stomach.

Everything in your body screams for you to run. To hide and put up your walls and ignore this ever happened. But then you look into his pretty hazel eyes. The rough and tough Wolverine was silently begging you to stay. To talk to him. 

"I don't try to be a hero, It's not a hero complex, or a savior complex or whatever you want to call it." His thumb rubs over your hand as you talk. He wants to butt in but he lets you talk.

 "I don't know. It's a lot. What goes on in my head." You start to count the blades of grass that you can see. Anything to keep you from breaking down. 

"I don't care if I get hurt if I'm helping people. I just. It's how I help. My life is worth saving people. Saving you guys. I don't care if..." You trail off. You can't get the words right.

 "You don't care if you die." Logan finishes. He swallows harshly. It breaks his heart to hear but that small part of him understands. More than you’ll ever know. 

 "Kind of. It's complicated alright? I'm not actively trying to die but...Look I don't think I deserve this life sometimes. I've caused a lot of hurt and I've lost so many people." Logan reaches up and wipes away a tear.

There's a lot of pain that sits with a lifetime of trauma. Pain that you've chosen to ignore over and over again. Burying it until you've convinced yourself this is what life is like. What you deserve. 

"It's stupid right? There's so much that I should be grateful for. What right do I have to complain about?"

 "You're a mutant, your life hasn't been easy." 

"Yeah I guess." Logan doesn't let go of your hand. He holds it, squeezes it. Its warm and fits perfectly with yours. 

"Life sucks, a lot. Trust me I understand. It's like the days blend together right? There's this massive hole that just seems to get bigger. You can stuff it with things, try and close it up or even pretend it never exists. But it never goes away." Logan says.

He understands because he feels the same way. Maybe not exactly how you feel but he knows what its like. To have this, hatred for yourself grow and fester until you can't breathe. You convince yourself that nothings going to change so why even bother? 

"I just want it to go away." You whisper sadly. 

"It will, we're tough. We survive."

"What if I'm tired of surviving? What if I don't want to be strong anymore?" You confess. You feel like you have to be strong all the time and it weighs you down like bricks. You're drowning. 

"That's okay, you come to me and I'll carry what you can't." He pulls you in closer and you bury your face in his neck. He's warm, protecting you from the chill.

 "Just please, promise me no more heroics on missions okay?" He mumbles. 

You scared the shit out of him. You were bleeding and in so much pain. You couldn't even register that it was his hands on your face. That he carried you to the jet and held you while you went in and out of consciousness. He stayed by your side until you got back. He disappeared to the background as Scott took you to the lab. His worry and fear of losing you turning to anger. Wondering why you continue to put yourself in danger.

 "Okay." You lean in and press a light kiss to his cheek.

"Logan, Can I ask why you're out here? How did you even notice something was wrong?" It's not that you weren't friends, in fact you were closer than most. But Logan isn't really the best with this kind of thing. Yet somehow, he always knows what to say.

"You mean a lot to me firefly..."

He could tell you that he loves you right here and now. Tell you that you're everything to him. How he's fallen in love with you over the years. But he keeps it inside. It's not the right time. Sometimes love isn't enough to get better and he knows that there's work to be done. He doesn't want to put this pressure on you to get better for him. He wants you to get better for yourself. He'll be by your side for the whole thing though. He won't let you spiral as long as he's there. 

"You mean a lot to me too Logan." You smile, a real one this time. He caresses your face, tilting your head as his lips kiss your forehead. You giggle as beard tickles your skin.

 "There's that sweet sound," He hums. He takes off his jacket and places it on your shoulders. The worn leather smells like him.

 "You really think things get better?" You ask as you link your hand with his. He doesn't answer right away. He'd be a hypocrite to preach that everything's fine and dandy all the time. Sometimes he doesn't believe it himself. But he keeps going, every day. Just as you do. 

"Yeah I do, I don't know when. But someday it will." You nod and rest your head on his shoulder. It might take a long time until you truly feel better but you can keep going. Waking up and living.

With a hope, no a belief, that someday. It will get better. 

[dark-konohagakure2]

just aizen and baby trapping... can you see the vision... just him being a yan and breeding his squad member bc she keeps going agasint his word, aizen doesnt want her to ingure herself, after all aizen needs her for his plan..

tw: noncon, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, power imbalance, abuse, size difference, humiliation, forced orgasm, sensory manipulation

All characters depicted are 18+

Aizen is a very calm man, frighteningly so, it would take the most dire of dire circumstances for him to so much as break a sweat, let alone lose his cold composure. Very few things irritate him, although insubordination is one thing he can't stand for, especially if it's continuously being done by the same person over and over again.

Normally Aizen would murder or mentally break anyone who'd dare to defy him, but he can't do that in this special case, this minion of his is required for his grand plan, and losing her would be a minor setback, a slight annoyance even. She's a tiny piece in his vast puzzle, but even the absence of the smallest of pieces will make the picture look incomplete. So instead of murdering or imprisoning her, Aizen has a different way to force her to remain by his side.

Aizen could easily just use his ability to instil feelings of adoration into her, but that would be too easy, not very fun for him. While usually a very serious man, Aizen does desire some recreation from time to time, and he isn't fully immune to desiring pleasures of the flesh, and if he can use those pleasures to ensure his plan stays on track, then Aizen will gladly indulge himself on her.

Aizen doesn't need to worry about getting her alone, he knows Las Noches inside and out, so if he needs to find her, he'll do so very quickly, whether she's preoccupied or not. Aizen's expression is unreadable, he's smiling like usual, but it doesn't reach his eyes, it never does reach those cold, calculating eyes of his. His touch is deceptively gentle yet firm as he holds her in place, his words as vague as usual.

"Why are you so insistent on defying me, hmm? Are you perhaps upset about not having enough responsibilities in my ranks? Well don't worry, I'll give you the most important responsibility of them all..."

His vagueness doesn't last very long when his intentions become very clear, as he pulls down her underwear, keeping her in place with his superior strength and size. Aizen is only doing this to remind her of his authority and to give her his 'responsibilities', but that doesn't mean he can't have a bit of fun with it, cruelly mocking her for being such a silly girl in thinking she can defy him without consequence, his mockery of her not stopping when when he's balls deep in her.

He isn't gentle, but he isn't rutting into her like an untamed beast in heat, he's not a simpleton who thinks with the head between his legs, instead he'll move at a pace that's somehow both too slow and too fast at the same time, the tip of his long cock brutally poking against her cervix with each thrust as he prepares to bestow her with his progeny.

Somebody walking in on them is a very real possibility, in fact she won't even know if someone is able to see them or is watching them, because Aizen will manipulate her perception to make it impossible for her to see anybody but him, so she has no clue if they're alone or surrounded by spectators. He's feeling especially cruel, so Aizen will tell her how good a show she's putting on for his Espada, even if they're completely alone.

There is one word that can be used to perfectly encapsulate Aizen's entire being: manipulation. Aizen can manipulate people with both his words and his Kyoka Suigetsu. In this case, Aizen will use his Kanzen Saimin to control not her mind, but her bodies reactions. He won't tell her that he's controlling her body of course, letting her believe that she's cumming uncontrollably on his cock all on her own.

"My my, cumming again are we? Your mouth might lie, but your body certainly doesn't... This is precisely why you're more suited for breeding than fighting."

Aizen will walk away from this lovely little encounter feeling very accomplished. Not only did he put a wayward puzzle piece back into it's proper place, but he ensured that it stays there permanenty. He doesn't really care about having a child, children aren't very interesting for him to interact with, but she certainly needs a baby in her fertile little womb, it'll do wonders to keep her compliant.

[magicdustsworld]

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader; tw - Fellatio, cum swallowing, adultery; divider credits - @saradika-graphics

Imagine sucking off Yakuza boss!Sukuna while he is on a call.

Forced down to your knees, red tongue darting out to swirl over his frenulum—eliciting a lewd groan from him. Sukuna peers down at you, a corner of his lip curling up into a provocative sneer while maroon gaze scorches with an erotic desire.

"Yeah and? mhmm... what the fuck did Masume say?"

Holding the phone with his left hand, he brings up the pointer of his right to his lips—gesturing you to keep it low. (As if he really wants that?) You return his gaze with a leacherous one of your own—an invitation cum challenge he recognizes all to well. You pass a smirk and not a second later, you're eagerly accepting the glans penis inside your mouth. Lapping up at the tip, you proceed downwards, coating his entire cock with your saliva before readily sucking him off.

Sukuna's attention is allegedly on the call at hand. A blissful expression clouds over his eyes s he hums and murmurs curses under his breath while speaking to— whoever the fuck it is. However, as you go down on his cock, bopping your head in a to and fro motion, all to please him like a good girl, he just seems to not notice it. Taking it for granted, is he? Unknowingly, you scoff under your breath, trails of his musky precum settling on your tongue; you gulp them without much of a second thought.

You look up again and the same sight greets you. Yes, you know it may be an important call and you know you shouldn't do it. You still do it.

Your teeth grazes over his prepuce.

"Ngh Fuck– Huh? Nothing, just uh, don't worry. Whatcha' saying again?"

He glares at you, threading his fingers through your luscious strands; he tugs them back firmly. Mouth filled with cock, your protest only comes off as a jumbled mess. Leaning down, momentarily he retracts the phone from his ear, "Do this shit properly or this will be the last thing you'll be sucking." Said so, he is back to his call.

The threat lingers in the air—he isn't lying. You know. Countless times you have seen him snap the string of someone's life without an exchange of words. The grip of his Beretta M9 peaks out of his pocket, the looming peril and the sheer power he holds over you in this situation(and all the others) making itself stark clear. Despite the eminent danger oozing off of his body language, the thrill of it all sends a pulse to your core.

You clamp your legs tighter, the fabric of your panties brushing with your clitoris. Regardless, the warning does the job and as much of a desperate whore you can be for the man above you, you still want to watch and experience this charade play out.

Besides, you already got his attention, didn't you?

Gaze fixated on you, with both pair of teeth out in a menacing display akin to a ravenous beast being served, he watches you. You move your head back and forth, aiming to just give him a stellar fellatio while your cunt starts to drip with wanton need. You nibble on his his foreskin, forcing more of his girth inside your hot cavern, the wet muscle licking over the glans—raunchy moans escalating from you.

"Got over with– Ah shit! Where did you learn that? Wasn't speaking to you, just some maggots."

Seriously, maggots?

You deserve something more than that. However, before you can retract yourself from his cock, Sukuna’s strength comes to play. He, quite literally, forces you down on his cock till your smeared mulberry tinted lips wrap around his base. He buckles his hip, fucking your face on his own as he sets a relentless pace making tears to spring up your eyes. His cock head reaches so far and so deep that it hits your uvula. Manicured nails digging into the fabric of his pants, you try to balance yourself on your knees—task proving to be futile.

Guttural moans start to escape Sukuna as well. Struggling either to make sense of the speaker or let himself find reprieve with the way your mouth welcomes him.

The latter seems to win by a large mark.

"Heard ya' the first time, what the ahh– shit! You little minx," A smirk curves up his lips, forehead creasing as the product of erotigenic act knots in the pit of his stomach. "Fuck– wasn’t talking to you, bitch. Hang up."

No sooner he utters the last two words, the phone is discarded on the leather couch. He cages you in his grasp, lascivious noises releasing from him as the sweatbeads start to cling and drip down. The acrid smell of arousal and the squelching sound of mouth meeting flesh reverberates through the corners of his office.

His cock twitches in your mouth, your eyes have only partially widened when he is shooting thick ropes of cum down your throat. He holds you his place, tip of nose, pressing against his pubes till you swallow each and every seed he has to offer; something you find yourself doing alike second nature.

His grip loosens and you retract your mouth from his cock with a pop sound. A string of saliva connects your glistening lips with his cock. Trails of ecstasy running down your lips—Sukuna, extends his hands, gently wiping it away with his thumb. An act proving to be a stark contrast to the names he called you while he was bullying your throat.

With name calling, something flickers in your mind...

"Who was that?"

"Don't you wanna know?" He snickers, grabbing you by the bicep as he pulls you up on his lap so you're left to straddle him. "Just my dumb wife filling me on what she did today."

[lxclerc]

𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 ─ 𝐦𝐯𝟏

summary: where max verstappen is the subject of a love song from a singer who never writes love songs pairing: max verstappen x american singer!reader faceclaim: no one specifically but based off olivia rodrigo

note: me? writing max verstappen? smau fluff? on main? everyone look away.

dailyynupdates

liked by user33, user4, user16 and others

dailyynupdates yn was seen around monte carlo the past few days, taking pictures with fans and allegedly cozying up with three time world champion max verstappen

view all 104,210 comments...

user12 what is going on in the house of commons because this was the last thing i expected

user39 this is quite literally the most random pairing i've ever stumbled across

user91 how do they even know each other 😭 user63 right like...where did this even come from? how did it start? literally how did they meet? they could not be farthest apart in the sphere of famous people

user19 now who the hell is max verstappen and why is he with my wife?

user49 oh girl you have a lot to catch up on the max lore user71 max is a formula one driver user56 saying max is a formula 1 driver like he currently isn't dominating the sport to the point where people hates him saying he's making it boring since he keeps winning because he's just that fucking good that literally no other driver can keep up is kinda wild user10 oh so our girl's new man is good at his job user52 "good at his job might just be the biggest understatement of the century when it comes to max. man's a fucking beast at his job

user48 i dont have to see her with her ratty ex anymore omfg war is over

user93 dare i say...they're adorable

user82 yn being in an age appropriate, healthy relationship? i never thought the day would come

user74 we won for real 🥹🫶

dailyynupdates

liked by user23, user31, user69 and others

dailyynupdates max and yn in a video posted by yn's friend 😭

view all 59,129 comments...

user93 oh my god look at them 😭

user81 they look so in love i want to cry

user65 "maximillian, do i look pretty like this?" "you always look pretty" i couldn't quite catch what he said at the end but 😭😭😭

user85 dutch here and i believe he said "laiverd" which means darling user75 this means so much to me user65 you just made my entire week

user45 seeing her in love after all the shit men is healing a part of me i didnt know was broken

user53 max fixing her hood then kissing her cheek what if you just stabbed me

user31 every time i see these, i get the urge to take a shot of bleach 😀

sincerelyyn ✓

liked by conangrey, maxverstappen1, taylorswift and others

sincerelyyn can't have a conversation if it's not all about you

view all 402,452 comments...

yourfriend as the other person of those conversations, he's fine i guess 😒

sincerelyyn you know i love youuuuu

taylorswift love seeing you happy ❤️

sincerelyyn ❤️❤️ user73 mother is all of us user63 you know it's real when it's taylor swift approved

conangrey i hate happy couples i hope you both trip 🫶

sincerelyyn die 🫶

user92 their friendship is everything to me

user15 not girlie trying to soft launch like we all don't know who it is 😭

user43 THEYRE SO ‼️🥵🥰⚠️

user65 you're so right

user24 i'm so happy finally seeing our girl happy 😭

user84 "someday i'll be everything to somebody else" YES YOU ARE BABYGIRL 😭

maxverstappen1

liked by sincerelyyn, charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 my american girl 🩷

view all 308,291 comments...

charles_leclerc i still can't believe this is happening

maxverstappen1 for someone who don't even follow me, you sure are early to my posts 😒 user91 max gagged him with that im afraid

landonorris please please max talk to her about getting me tickets 😭

user85 lando is just like us fr struggling to get guts tour tickets maxverstappen1 no ❤️ landonorris 😔 sincerelyyn @landonorris let me get you in contact with my team 🤍 maxverstappen1 baby noooo sincerelyyn be nice, max landonorris HELL YEAH THANKS YN user42 this is the crossover i never thought i needed

user66 max posting non racing content and being all soft in the comments for yn in what world am i in

user52 fr i feel like im in an alternate universe 😭

sincerelyyn love youuuu

maxverstappen1 love you more

sincelyyn i never knew love could be so golden till i met you <3

maxverstappen1 mijn hele hart is van jou, schat (you own my entire heart, darling) user42 they mean so very much to me 😭

danielricciardo god the two of you make me nauseous

maxverstappen1 hating because you ain't us danielricciardo im not liking that attitude, kid 😒 user71 daniel is so us

sincerelyyn

liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, yourfriend and others

sincerelyyn so american will be out on all platforms at midnight. a letter to the man i love, the only way i know how ❤️

view all 592,649 comments...

maxverstappen1 i adore you with everything in my being ❤️

sincerelyyn ik hou van je (i love you)

i hope you guys liked this as much as i loved writing it 🫶

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Different positions w/ Miguel 🤭

okay I have MANY thoughts, scooch closer and listen up

word count: ~1200

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

18+ fem!reader, mdni !!

firstly, I think he's a simple guy when it comes to sex. he doesn't really like anything too crazy or too experimental. he's a sexy beautiful HUNK of a man, but I think he's particular in who he's intimate with, so I don't think he does one-night stands. he much prefers to do it with the woman he loves, simple

missionary

✧ I feel like it would be the most intimate and intense, most passionate too

✧ he loves to cage you against the mattress, and his big huge muscly arms would be either side of you and he'd be so close to you, omg?? like literally no space to breathe ! ? ! ?

✧ he'd be only focused on you- your eyes, your facial expressions and your noises. solely you

✧ he also loves the feeling of your boobs pressed against his big ol' man titties

✧ loves to take it slow in this position, like he's making love to you. fucking you like he loves you. it’s turning me on too much to think of a way to expand this thought (😶)

✧ kisses your throat and neck a lot too !!

✧ loves to put a pillow under your hips to hit into you in a tad deeper

✧ he loves when you wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging and holding onto him

✧ he can feel you swallow him and clamp around him much more in this position and it does wild things to him

✧ cups your jaw and holds behind your neck

✧ he tells you how pretty you are

doggy

✧ he's a BEAST when fucking you from behind, I feel like the position is naturally that, but he probs gets carried away

✧ he's maybe a little rough on your hips and ass cheeks, squeezes you and leaves a ton of marks and scratches

✧ fucks you into the mattress for sure!! even if you collapse against the bed, he'd grip your waist, pulling your ass back up so he can plough into you

✧ sometimes he forgets how BIG he actually is (not just his dick) probs crushes you a lil, but he’s angelic and it's cute, so it's okay <3

✧ he reaches around to circle your clit with his thumb

✧ kisses your back and shoulder when he leans over you too

✧ you go extra cockdrunk in doggy, and he loves it

✧ fucks you like he hates you

✧ he tells you how good you are for him, how you take him so well

cowgirl

✧ he def likes control so this isn't always one he opts for. but if he's inside of you, he literally doesn't care

✧ but sometimes if he's had a long day, he loves to have you straddle his hips and look up at you when you rock over his cock

✧ if he's led down, he grips your upper thighs, waist, hips, the lot- just anything he can reach. he guides you over him if you're being too slow, or if you're teasing him too much. he prefers up and down, rather you circling your hips/ side to side

✧ but if he's sat on a chair and you're on top, he loves to bury his face in your tits. his arms would be wrapped around you, fingers spread wide, gripping your back and practically holding you to his face

✧ plays with your nipples too (tongue or thumb and index)

✧ and bc he's just so fucking big and tall, you'd probs be in each other's eye line when you're straddling his lap (maybe?? depending on proportions)

✧ but slow and kinda sensual, he def swallows your moans and whimpers

✧ he tells you how good you look (in case you're insecure about the angle) and tells you that you have pretty tits

spooning

✧ feel like this is a slow, easy morning classic for him

✧ and SO touchy, omg ????????

✧ plays with your tits from behind and teases your clit too

✧ kisses the back of your neck, shoulder area

✧ skims his fangs over your skin too

✧ dirty talk… behind your ear… quiet and gravelly… raspy and strangled (good lord)

✧ you’re tighter in position so he goes extra slow as he knows he won’t last

✧ he tells you how good you feel

against the wall

✧ he's a hunk so he carries you like it's nothing

✧ holds you up against the wall from under your ass (his huge hands spread over your cheeks) pinning you to it as he fucks up into you

✧ he loves it when you grip his meaty shoulders for support

✧ ESPECIALLY when your face drops into the nape of his neck and you kinda go all limp

✧ when you whine and cry out against him… it drives him crazy !!

✧ he tells you how good you're making him feel

extras, bc ily and I just can’t stop myself 😌

✧ ladies first!! he's a firm believer that you should cum at least once before he gets inside you, let alone cum. but that's different depending on the session, ie, you sucking him off or you being the dom

✧ praises you, sometimes degrades you, but it’s sprinkled in praise (“pretty dirty girl” or something)

✧ doesn’t mean to hurt you, but he always kisses and caresses the parts he hurt

✧ he's big on eye contact

✧ very touchy and grabby

✧ he can’t relax if you can’t, he needs you to be into it, ready and in the mood, if not, he can’t fuck you (it feels wrong) so he always preps you to assure that

✧ king of “oh, yeah?” and “hm?”

✧ calls you a bunch of sweet terms of endearment

✧ rambles spanish curses when he cums

✧ loves to cum inside. breeding kink

✧ he’s HUGE so maybe has a size kink

✧ love when you use him for your own need, like thigh riding, loves that shit. he always encourages you, touches and holds you, praises you as well

✧ hip and thigh kinda dude. loves your tummy if you have a bit of squidge

✧ he’s a needy bottom

✧ grunts and groans !! he doesn't whimper (unless he's overstimulated, then he makes these strained and strangled noises, and a couple incoherent blabbers)

✧ heavy on communication (he wants to know that you're enjoying yourself too) and for you to tell him he's making you feel good bc that turns him ON

✧ AFTERCARE ???? NEXT LEVEL OMG especially if it was an intense session

✧ he'd be so sweet and gentle with you after (bc he loves you, duh)

✧ would reassure you, saying that he doesn't actually think you're a whore or a slut. it was just something spur of the moment

✧ wash together, then eat and watch a movie or something

✧ treats you like a princess… his princess 😩

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

artwork by shuploc**