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lovetei · 1 year ago

Note

Okay so, someone headcanon that Lucifer interact with Cerberus very seriously like no baby talk or any normal petowners behaviour…? This is actually kinda canon now? In the recent Lucifer’s card. He be trying to get his lepus doing smth by acting like they’re business partners and the lepus keeps electrocuting him in the progress lol.

And just imagine MC being the lovely troublemaker they are keep sneaking in the underground tomb to see Cerberus to give him belly rubs, snacks and all of the things Lucifer didn’t do because MC feels bad cuz Cerberus can’t experience all the “good boys stuff” he deserves

Then one day, Cerberus just break out and just running around the house to find MC cuz they forgot to give Cerberus his daily without Lucifer knowing snacks, and daily cuddle too! What a crime. How would the bros react to that?

I was surprised Fluff and crack dominated the poll I created last post 😭

But this cute as hell.

I'm back on my long post era :b

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MC who thinks Cerberus is just a giant puppy that deserves love cause he's a good boy

Warnings: Grammar errors, spelling errors, long post, Mentions of starving, Mentions of eye bags, Mentions of some real threats

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER:

He's a very serious pet owner

He doesn't punish his pet though, no fasting or whips just some soft scolding and lecturing

On the other hand, there's you who as a pet fever, always hyperventilating when you see Cerberus

He figured that you might turn his stoic and monstrous three headed dog into some giant puppy

So he made sure that he adds one more barrier, specifically preventing you from entering the tomb

But guess what? You're the shit.

Ain't no barrier gonna stop you.

So you sneak out late at night while struggling to hold all the large sized snacks you starved yourself to get your hands on just make Cerberus feel like the good boy he is.

Of course, Lucifer noticed this but he's not really sure and he does not want to confront you about this.

Like, what if you're not actually going to the tomb to pet and give Cerberus belly rubs? He'll look like a fool.

But it just kept getting worse.

The eyebags around your eyes

And how Cerberus gets more and more whiney

What the fuck is on about you two

So as a punishment, he decided to give you a break (Wow)

You're not allowed to leave your room until the dark circles under your eyes disappear.

And to his surprise, and prediction, Cerberus managed to break out of the magic he applied on the tomb that prevents him fron going out without his permission

He's both disspointed and proud.

Disspointed because his dog is disobeying and proud because his dog is actually really strong.

And as to his guesses, he ran up straight to the HOL and broke the door open.

And just like in those movies

You guys met halfway and life dramatically cried out as if Lucifer prevented two lovers from meeting each other.

He's just standing on the background like :l

Cause he expected this much.

MAMMON:

He liked the dog don't get him wrong

It's just that, he's not as crazy as you are about them

Plus that three headed tree pisser tried to kill him multiple times

And he's NOT happy about it

It's not like he can get any time to bond with the dog too since Lucifer is keeping a tight leash on him both literally and figuratively.

That might stop him

But not you

As your first man, he already know you're up to something the moment he saw you, through his crows, carrying large sizes of food, now human food, dog food.

He also knows that you're someone who don't actually want someone to know about this little secret of yours

So he just kept quite and stood at the bay

Watching you sneak around the house, trying to get to the tomb by yourself

Who knows? Something might go wrong and he needs to be by your side to save you as your babysitter and as your first man.

He started getting worried as soon as he saw those eye bags though

So he admitted that he knows what you're up to and suggested that you stop

You got mad

Of course

He knew it

He snitched on you by the way

He didn't straight up told Lucifer that you're going out to meet Cerberus

He just pointed out that you have like the worse eye bags ever and subtly said that you might be on some late night rendezvous.

He's glad that Lucifer gave you that time out.

He's sorry for snitching on you too but your health comes first before some belly rubs and dog treats.

When he heard the door of HOL crashing down though

He knew damn well who it was

He actually opened (broke) the door for you.

LEVIATHAN:

He's not that much of a dog person

More on reptiles and amphibians

But he understands why you're all crazy about dogs

I mean it's a common thing among humans right?

He's pretty sure Lucifer won't let you near Cerberus though since all about the string, guard dogs type while you're all down for cutesy belly rubs and treats.

Then one night, when he's about to get water after playing video games all night he saw you

Sneaking out

And he thought "What if MC actually have a hidden identity like in those anime?! That would be so cool!"

And so he followed you

And saw Mammon following you too

Mammon explained what's happening to him.

He's actually surprised you would go this far.

He started following you every night too of course

Even though he knows that you can knock out Cerberus with a single hit if you're actually serious

He even started watching anime about dogs and reading managas about them too then recommending them to you

He just loves the expression you make when you're so excited and your heart is melting because of the cute illustrations.

Wait

Is Mammon snitching?! On you?!

He's surprised cause, what the fuck, he's actually the last person he thought will snitch on you

It's understandable though, 'cause he's actually near on doing the same.

He's just glad that you got mad on Mammon instead of him

So you got your rest and you're not mad at him, it's a win win for him.

He also got to record the whole dramatic reunion between you and Cerberus.

SATAN:

He's a cat person

He can barely care

About Lucifer and his pet

But if it's you then... Maybe he can bare with it.

He just loves how you look at dogs like how he looks at cats.

You guys really are soul mates.

But why would you starve yourself for dog foods..?

He got a little mad because of it but he knows you just love Cerberus so much

And that you want to treat him like the good puppy he is because the so good Lucifer FAILED to do so.

He knows you're sneaking in and out of HOL to go in the tomb and meet Cerberus

He applied a few spells that made you seem more approachable to animals and be more sneaky without you knowing too.

But his guts are just telling him to close this book and follow you.

And so he did.

And he saw not one,

But two of his brothers trying to act sneaky and following you down to the tomb you knowing

He didn't expect this to be honest

He thought Mammon would be too dumb to find out and Levi will be watching too many animes and play too many games to even notice.

But he guess he underestimated their feelings for you

That doesn't mean his is in any way less than them though

That's why he's here

Although he knows that Lucifer would find out sooner or later

He didn't expect Mammon to be dropping hints when you're his absolute partner in crimes

What a traitor

He would've killed him and fed him to his crows if he did that to him.

But he knows that Mammon is just as worried as he is

Plus he knows to himself that he will be telling you to Lucifer if this gets any worse.

So he is really no better than Mammon

Putting you on some sort of time out and forcing you to rest is a good way of punishment, he expected it, Lucifer spoiling you.

But Cerberus barging in the HOL is not something he thought would happen.

He knows how disciplined Cerberus is, he's Lucifer's pet after all.

He also thought the dramatic meeting was cute and he chuckled a bit.

ASMODEUS:

Oh... Dogs?

He doesn't like stray fur on his clothes though...

But he guess he can understand you.

Cerberus is indeed one big, fluffy dog after all.

Despite being locked down inside the tomb

Cerberus is actually squeaky clean and always smells good.

He's one of the dogs Asmo will be okay being close to.

He can understand you buying him treats and sneak one or a couple of times

But sneaking out in the middle of the night just to give him treats and belly rubs?

Even starving yourself to buy him food is outrageous

You could've asked him for help, he has all these money from modeling just rotting away

Waiting to get spend on some shoes and pearls.

Like Mammon, he dropped subtle hints, commenting on your eye bags but Lucifer seems to not take him seriously as he thinks that Asmo points out even the slightest difference.

He's dissapointed, he means, it's your health on the line here!

So he resorted into confronting you

He thought that maybe following you to your late night sneak outs and pretending to catch you will work

He didn't expect Mammon, Levi and Satan following you too though

He's looking at them all shock cause what the fuck?

And then when he's about to scream Satan just pulled him and covered his mouth with his hand.

When you're about to leave though, he tried to break free from Satan's grasp and proceed with his plans but instead earned shushes from everyone.

Out of all people

He didn't expect Mammon to snitch on you

He actually thought that Cerberus snitching on you is higher than Mammon telling you on.

But he's glad to hear that you're under house arrest and is prohibited from tiring yourself

You really need this rest, honey.

He's one of the people that took care of you that day, actually.

He painted your nairs and gave you a spa day inside the bathroom.

And then he heard a loud crash

He just rolled his eyes and stopped fanning your wet finger nails and just let you run out of the room

He must confess he thinks the reunion is dramatic but it was cute

All the heads of Cerberus whining and crying

But your nails dear!

BEELZEBUB:

Beel loves Cerberus too!

It's just sad that Lucifer won't leg him take care of him as much as he wants to

Cerberus' main job is to protect the tomb where their grimoires are located at so he understands why.

Lucifer doesn't want Cerberus to end up all cutesy greeting each 'visitor' that enters the tomb like he's friends with them

He want Cerberus to not even think twice and attack anyone who would enter the tomb except Lucifer himself.

But aside Lucifer, Beel is the second most close to Cerberus as he's the one that take him to walks most of the time

And when he found out that you like dogs too

Specifically Cerberus

He looked at you with obvious adoration in his eyes

Cause, finally, someone can get him

He wants to treat Cerberus like a good boy too almost just as much as you but Lucifer won't let him

But you have a plan?!

Wait, why are you starving yourself..?

That's bad...

If you just want to buy Cerberus dog food and treats you can use his money

But why do you insist that you want to buy his food yourself?

By what money? The money you got from starving yourself?

He knows he can't stop you though

So he just cooked extra portions when he's on duty and insisted that you share foods with him

So, problem number one solved

But now there's another problem

And it's you sneaking out late at night just to feed Cerberus!

Look at yourself MC!

You barely get any sleep!

He actually decided to start feeding Cerberus himself after he saw the dark circles under your eyes

But after he saw Mammon, Levi, Satan and Asmo hiding behind a big rock he already knows he's late and that you're in the tomb again

When Asmo tried to go out and confront you though

His heart dropped

Cause "What if MC thought were stalkers?!" "MC will think we're controlling!"

Though, Mammon snitching on you is something he expected

People might think that he'll die loyal and never snitch on you but he knows better than that

He knows that Mammon will put your health above everything and would snitch if needed

For him, house arrest is a light and well thought punishment

He doesn't know why you need to receive it though

He means, you did nothing wrong, you just feed and play with the dog

He thinks the dramatic meet up is cute too!

He's standing on the background looking like ^^

BELPHEGOR:

He likes Cerberus

He has fluffy fur and would carry him when their together

He's unbelievably large too so he's like a giant, moving bed for Belphie

And he understand why you would go crazy over Cerberus

He is indeed one of a kind considering how he has three heads

But he can't understand why you would go through such lengths just to play with the dog

Don't get him wrong, he knows that you like Cerberus and sees him as a giant puppy

But Cerberus guards their grimoire and that grimoire is very important to them

So he's also one of the people that actually prevents you from going in the tomb to play with the hell hound

Lucifer trained them to be a strict guard dog for a reason

And he knows it and it's for his own good too

Though, he knows his explanations won't stop you considering how you're starving yourself to buy him dog food and toys

And even wake up late at night just to sneak out and give it to Cerberus

He wants to protect you of course

Cerberus is still a hell hound that's above thrice your size

So he did the unthinkable and stayed up late

Wanting to spy on you

He saw you sneaking your way down the hallway and so he decided to follow you

And then he saw them

Not Cerberus

But Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and even Beel spying on you too

He guess he underestimated them

He just joined them behind the rock though and rested on Beel's shoulder

He's more assured now since his brothers are watching over you too

But when he heard the sudden rustle made by Asmo trying to struggle to confront you

His eyes shot open and helped Satan on strangling him down

Hell, he almost turned to his demon form

You falling ill is something he's scared of, but you getting mad at him is another

And both are as bad as the other

Actually, the way he glares at Asmo as Satan covers his mouth is terrifying

He might as well just point a knife at his neck at this point

And then the next morning what woke him up is not Lucifer

But the door of their house falling down and creating a loud thud

And is followed by loud howls and whines he knows too well

He's wide awake now and is staring at the two of you, dramatically hugging each other as if Lucifer kept you away from each other for years

Wait

What

Mammon snitched on you?!

Oh... So you've been on an house arrest since earlier this morning and not even a day passed and Cerberus is already running after you?

Wow

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#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me crack #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me cerberus #obey me mc

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patchiko · 10 months ago

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Your AK HC were on POINT 👌👌👌 literally everything you said was so right. It was really refreshing seeing this kind of take on AK Jason.

AK Jason is a cat that’s been feral for most of its life and you just gotta approach him gently and be patient 🥺

I also agree… this boi is a VIRGIN 👏 this man had no game and wasn’t even seeking anything (cause 1) his mind is entirely focused on one goal atm and 2) all his trauma 😞 ) he’s prob like a deer in the headlights for any first time physical intimacy wether that’s holding hands or sleeping together (poor baby)

I want to give AK Jason a nice blanket, a cup of tea and his favorite book 🥺 I doubt it would help a lot though. I just want to shower this boi with love

literally jumping up and down. for so long i was nervous to post my takes on him hcishskshd.

psps also i see yall in my inbox dw imma get to you all :]

but your so right, ak!jay is so a feral dog/cat to me. I say dog because of his implication throughout the arkham comics and mainstream ones, that robin to jason was seen as bruces lap dog.

So i’ve always seen AK!jay as a “runner dog.” You know? The type that sees an open door and runs out of the house, wont come back for nothin.

But feral cat so describes his personality, the just standing and watching, and slowly warming up, is so him coded ,, anon ur soOOO right.

nsfw under da cut (light / not detailed :] ) ((also soft and warm hehe))

ill die on this hill,, he had NO interest in sex for so long, barely slipped his mind with training. Only got off to break off steam and he would just take his ass to bed.

and like anon said, even for basic things like holding your hand on his shoulder he gets so tense.

Subconsciously he’s waiting for something bad to happen, for it to be a trick, so it takes a really long time for him to weed those distrusts out :(

luv him soo bad needa hold his hand and feed him food.

his first time hes so quiet and stiff. hes not mentally freaking out, but again subconsciously hes expecting something bad to happen.

he feels like theres something under his skin tingling, the sensation that made him pull back many times before.

but nothing bad is happening, and it takes him awhile to accept that too.

The possibility has never seemed completely unreal to him, but really experiencing that kind of intimacy and love was so surreal to him.

When its over, he’s looking at you with big blown out eyes, and his mind is so quiet, in a good way, but most importantly that fog, that darkness he has felt for so long isn’t there. He feels so real and present in the moment.

He’s touching your skin, actually feeling and processing the way you feel against him, the texture of the cloth you two lay on, and your face.

Falls asleep, doesn’t dream. a peaceful night. he wakes up, the fogs back but he feels a little lighter when he walks :)

ak!jay dealing with everyone (including you and i my friend) thats in his tumblr tags ((link))

my rq are open im so happy people wanna hear me ramble abt his crazy ass fuckdjskbdkssndj !!!

#jason todd #jason peter todd #jason todd x reader #arkham knight smut #arkham knight x reader #jason todd smut #arkham knight

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faithandfairies · 4 months ago

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So, I'm re-watching Rizzoli & Isles and here's what I got. Maura is bisexual, Jane is a repressed lesbian and Maura fully realized that she was in love with Jane when Jane got shot in season 1. She's been treating Jane completely like her wife since then.

I also genuinely believe Maura only stayed with the surgeon as long as she did to make sure Jane got the best medical care possible. Especially after what happened with Frankie. There is no way I think she would have been able to tolerate that insufferable man that long otherwise. She literally left him the moment she realized Jane would be just fine and whatever pain Jane was still experiencing was psychosomatic.

Maura also likes sex. And the only reason she's going after Giovanni is for sex as she's said because as she said herself she loves Italians. The truth is she loves Jane and the only thing she's not getting from their relationship is sex.

It's very interesting because in season 1 Maura was looking for meaningful connections with men. For a man to have it all. Now she either only really pursues superficial connections with men or if they're more meaningful the guy is a male version of Jane.

And something else is hitting me now. I wondered before why they didn't have Jane just get with Dean because I thought they were believable as a couple. With the compulsive heterosexuality Jane was at least somewhat into him.

But they had her get with the soldier and get pregnant by him instead. They had no chemistry and I thought that was the reason. To drive home that she was a lesbian. But she liked him and was pretty comfortable in his presence and I realized just now that he looked like a male version of Maura.

And that now makes me think that the only reason she was with him as long as she was was because of the long distance thing, as in it's easier to maintain a romantic relationship you're not that into from a distance, and because he looked like a male version of Maura.

It's also interesting that he gets introduced in an episode where nothing is what it seems. The homicide victim gets linked to that one guy in the military. There's photographic evidence of their relationship just lying around. And it isn't until the end of the episode that we find out the victim was actually in love with another soldier and the only evidence of it is that they were wearing each other's dog tags. Literally, that's how they deduced those two were in a romantic relationship and they were right. And we don't even get their story from them because by the time the relationship comes to light both parties are dead.

Jane is also very into Maura, truly loves her. She allows from Maura what she doesn't from anyone else, including that Maura bosses her around. She has very butch mannerisms even with her completely feminine physique. And with that she's jealous and protective when it comes to Maura in the way guys often are when they believe a woman is theirs. But she's just completely in denial. Which given what we learn about her upbringing and what her mom is like makes complete sense.

#rizzoli & isles #rizzoli and isles #jane rizzoli #maura isles

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chronically-ghosted · 11 months ago

Text

there ain't enough room in this Pontiac for the two of us

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

summary: 1. No sex. 2. No touching yourself. 3. No orgasms. 4. No murdering your annoying DEA partner. (A Javier Peña-shaped rift on this iconic fic)

tags/warnings: smut, dubcon/noncon elements, hand jobs (f receiving), no use y/n, javi being sexually frustrating as hell, time period compliant sexism (not from Javi)

a/n: please go read the original fic. Her’s is far superior to mine and this is but a shameful hollow echo.

🤍 AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Next |

🤍Masterlist

Bogota

11:23PM

Back before you willingly and eagerly joined the special task force between several unruly government organizations created with sole and express purpose to hunt down and catch the cartel king Pablo Escobar – before you applied to the DEA on the highest recommendation of your law professor, your criminal psychology professor, and the dean of admission, all whom believed your talents, (despite the unfortunate accident that you were a woman) would have a deep and profound impact on catching those responsible for the deaths of thousands worldwide – hell, even before you applied to Stanford and you spent your free time oscillating between color guard, JROTC, and retaking your practice SATs and ACTs until you got nearly a perfect score so that the realization that you didn’t have one single friend in the world to distract you from your single-minded almost obsessive focus to prove yourself, despite all your faults –

Before all of that –

If someone had discreetly taken you by the arm, gently sat you down, and told you what a perfect and deluded idiot you would make of yourself on a seven hour stake out on a dark, rainy night in the capital of Colombia, well, you probably would have laughed them out the door.

You aren’t one really predisposed to bouts of uncontrollable, side-splitting, “I’m laughing so hard I’m afraid to take a breath out of fear of the noise that’s going to come out of my nose” laughter, but if someone allowed you to take a good, long, healthy look at one of your more unhealthy habits – that, of course, being your almost toxic levels of competitive behavior – you might have been prone to at least one giggle.

The thing was, you really didn’t lose. Ever. You didn’t back then and you don’t now and your tenacious, unbreakable will made you not only a formidable and dogged DEA agent, but it also (and perhaps more importantly) made you a social, professional, and absolutely mental equal to men like Javier fucking Peña.

Javier Peña, whom women would literally melt into a puddle around, whom men would clamor over themselves just to get a drink with. He’s just so fucking cool, you overheard one of the office interns mutter to another, just look at him. That was also the day you spilled coffee down your entire blouse because you squeezed your styrofoam coffee cup too hard, but that was an entirely unrelated matter.

Whatever sway Peña seemed to inflict over the panties of every woman in the building, you resolutely stayed immune. When you first joined, it had been easy to avoid him. So much so, you were completely flummoxed when the man with the name you’d heard whispered in the hallways, finally made his way over to your side of the building for a meeting with your boss. He walked in with a badly-fitted suit, bags under his eyes, the reeking stench of day-old cigarettes, but by the reactions of the phone girls, you’d thought Elvis himself had just emerged from his coffin and began performing “Hound Dog” topless in bedazzled pants.

This? This is “The Guy”? The guy that women on your floor would spend their entire lunch breaks in the bathroom comparing stories over – “yes, Kathy, I heard his dick really is that huge!” “Yes, Shannon swears he made come for hours just with his tongue!”

Him?

Really?

Was it just slim pickings between married men and wheezing senators?

Never meet your heroes, I guess.

That was back in the late 80s. Back before the bombings and the kidnappings and the mutilated bodies of journalists.

Things had changed. Significantly.

Once things had gotten – let’s just say, dire – the agency started moving around teams, prioritizing certain missions over others. Which meant not only were you taken off a case you had just spent the better part of a year and a half building, but you were reassigned to a new team. Co-led by the one and only Javier. Fucking. Peña.

Now, Javier didn’t like the rain, especially not after a seven hour stake out. You knew this because every time it rained, he stormed into the pen, snorting like an enraged bull, his hair wet and his shoulders damp. Why the man couldn’t just simply go out and pick up an umbrella, you didn’t feel the need to ask. But it set your teeth on edge that a grown adult would be so annoyed by something that had such a simple solution. More than once you thought about hurling your own umbrella like a javelin at him, but your fighting matches had become legendary around the office and you refused to be provoked again by Javier’s own arrogance.

But that’s what started all of this, right?

You, with your white-hot competitive streak, and him, with his over-inflated ego, clashed again and again – until finally about the one thing both brought you a sense of pride: your sex lives.

Annoyingly, this was proving more difficult than you anticipated.

Thumbing the rim of your third lukewarm coffee of the night, you sigh, long and loud, not entirely regretful of the choices that led you here, but simply rather irked that someone had come along and finally proved to be a real challenge.

“Shut it.”

“Excuse me?”

Javier, who had been sitting next to you for the better part of the past seven hours, his long legs tucked up around the bulky wheel of the black Pontiac Firefly the agency had rented for this mission, continues to scowl through the dark and the rain at the spot where you had tracked one of Pablo’s higher ranking enforcers. A gambling den on the first floor, and a brothel in the basement, most men you tailed here spent only a few hours betting and fucking, before wandering back home, probably a little drunk and significantly less horny. But this guy – fuck – did he have the stamina of an Olympic athlete?

What had begun as a quick follow up to some intel your team received earlier in the week had turned into one of the longest and most unbearable nights of your life.

“I said, shut it.”

Your mouth drops open. “I am literally just breathing, Javier.”

“Yeah and you’re doing it too loud.” He takes a sip from the coffee between his legs then resumes his hunched, crossed arm position. “It’s annoying.”

Huffing, you sink lower in your seat, as much as the surveillance equipment and evidence boxes around your legs would allow.

“This is so stupid,” you grumble.

“This is basic DEA work, sweetheart. If you can’t cut it, I’m sure I can find someone – literally anyone – else to take your spot. Sarah’s always been eager to spend some extra time alone with me. Or what about Mac? You two get along right? Who am I kidding? You get along with e-e-everyone–,”

It is infuriating he knows exactly where to poke and prod to supercharge your competitiveness as well as your jealousy.

“I’m not talking about the sting, Javier! I’m talking about your need to always be in control. I’m talking about how, just because you can’t get your fucking rocks off, you’ve been sniping at everyone in the building.” You scowl and lean as far away from him as you can in the cramped hatchback. “Making everyone’s lives hell because you haven’t gotten your dick wet in a month.”

“Oh, sure, I’m the only one being a fucking nuisance in the office,” he sneers, scratching at his forehead with his thumbnail. “After your little meltdown at the copier machine, I think Mark from accounting would rather fist-fight God than have to ask you for a stapler again.”

You snatch up the used napkins in the cupholder between you and shred it to pieces. You chuck the little bits at him as you snap back,

“The. Stapler. Was. Right. There! He. Was. Being. Stupid!”

“Stop it! You’re going to get it in my coffee!”

With a snarl, you hurl the mangled rest of the napkin at him and he swats it out of the air. It rolls over the dashboard, fluttering in the AC that was doing absolutely nothing to combat the sticky humidity.

He did this to you. He always did this to you. Made you feel like a silly child, an overly emotional brat, for pointing out things he did time and time again. Why was he allowed to get away with it and you weren’t?

In the temporary silence, the rain patters loudly on the roof of the car. Headlights emerge from the gloom and disappear as the few unlucky caught out in this deluge run from awning to awning with magazines, newspapers, or umbrellas tucked over their heads. It had been raining for hours and it seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

You aren’t sure which irritates you more: the humidity or the stickiness gathering on the crotch of your panties.

It had been there for days, constant, a reminder, no matter how often you changed them out for some temporary escape. Your thighs tightened as close as they could, but a large storage box split your legs apart.

“You know,” Javier begins softly, almost contrite, gentle in a way you’d never heard before. He's pinching the edge of his coffee cup with his fingers, resolutely not looking at you. “If this bothers you so much, you can just quit. Call it off. No hard feelings.”

You snort. He really is the most ridiculous man alive.

“Yeah? You’d get the satisfaction of finally coming, after being hard for at least – what, a month, month and a half? – and half my next paycheck? I don’t think so.” You adjust in your seat, your left hip starting to ache from the position you’ve been maintaining for seven hours. “Well, the money’s one thing. But I think I’d rather be physically shot than have to listen to you parade around the office, gleefully spilling secrets about me as your latest conquest, bragging to all your little buddies around the water cooler how you finally bested that bitch in the bullpen. At that point, I’d rather we just actually fuck. At least that way I can finally understand what the fuck has the secretaries all in a goddamn hissy fit over.”

After nearly a third of the day spent next to you, he finally tears his gaze away from the target and looks at you. His dark eyebrows drawn down, plush lips frowning, he’s unnervingly serious. You wonder if you actually managed to make him genuinely angry.

“I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t brag about you to anyone, even if you lost. And I especially would never if you let me fuck you.” Let me? Now that’s a turn of phrase you definitely won’t spend hours thinking about. His frown deepens as he glances down to his coffee cup. “People – women – like to talk, but I never say anything, to anyone. I don’t encourage it, but it feels like I’m the one being checked off a list. Like I’m a space on a fucking bingo card. It’s rude.”

Gobsmacked into silence, you watch as he cranks down the window for just enough space to chuck his (and yours) empty coffee cups out onto the wet road beside the car. You let him tug it out of from between your legs without a single line of snark.

Your brain finally comes back online when the window squeaks back into place.

Hang on a second – did you really just feel bad for the office casanova? That little shit manipulated you into actually feeling sorry for the dozens of women he willingly brings home then turns out like used toilet paper. You can feel that decades old hate and disgust crack open and boil in your stomach.

“Well, hey, Javi, here’s an idea. Just stop fucking the women you work with. If it bothers you so much, then stop fucking women entirely!”

“I did! I have done that and I am!” He gestures wildly with his hands, palms out as if in supplication. “Everyone in the office – including Noonan, I’m pretty sure – knows about this stupid fucking bet and for once, it’s been great to have an excuse to not have to hold up my expectation of being a great lay!”

You will not allow yourself the time to fully process the idea that not only is Javier Peña grateful to not have to fuck a skirt, but it’s you he’s doing it for, so you snarl back, as you always do.

“Then what? What’s got you so fucking wound up, if your poor dick needs a break from getting sucked?”

With a groan that starts somewhere in his lower ribcage, he falls forward into the steering wheel, his forehead on the rim.

“I’m not saying that, alright? It’s actually been nice to have my bed to myself for a bit. But Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.”

Don’t.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the way he says it. Like it’s holy.

The warmth of the humidity in the car ratchets up as your heart starts to race, your palms sweat. You wonder vaguely if there’s condensation on the inside of the windows. He shouldn’t be allowed to get you so wet by just saying the word. You swallow, clawing back that familiar anger until you feel in control again.

“So then go get it.” You wave your hand around the dark streets of Bogota. “Just go out there and end this thing once and for all. God knows I’m sick and tired of having to listen to you roll around, grunting and huffing, with a hard-on so big I can almost hear it.”

“What are you so mad at me for?” He snaps up, a much more palatable rage in his eyes. “All of this – the bet, the rules, the fact that you actually included wet dreams – you decided on!”

“You’re the one who demanded you move into my apartment for the entire duration of this hell! You’re the one who went out and bought two twin beds like a fucking maniac and made me take out my bed to put in your little torture devices to make sure neither of us cheated off the clock!”

“And you agreed to it! I’m not the only insane one here! Sometimes I think you do it on purpose – kicking and fighting with the sheets, moaning in your sleep, rubbing yourself up on the mattress. Twice now I’m pretty sure I’ve gone blind in one eye, listening to all that and not being able to do a goddamn thing about it.”

You scoff, but now slightly uneasy. You’ve been moaning in your sleep? Fuck. Taking down your overbearing and egotistical coworker a few pegs was one thing. Becoming roommates with him was something else entirely. About two weeks in, he had come out of the bedroom without his shirt on – he’s been doing that more and more lately – and you had to sit in the bathroom with your hands clamped around the toilet seat for ten minutes straight to keep from finger-fucking yourself on the living room coffee table.

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t want to install cameras in the shower just to make sure I’m not jacking off in secret. You better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there, Javi. You touch yourself once and I win, Javi. Stop looking at my ass when I’m wearing less clothes than a Victoria Secret model, Javi.”

“It’s summer in Bogota, you jackass,” you snipe, particularly ruffled by his high-pitched affectation of you. It stings more than it should because it sounds exactly like the shrill harpy all your male coworkers make you out to be. “What do you want me to wear?”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, something terrifying like a smirk crawling across his perfect mouth and you feel the safety of annoyance crumble out from under you. He really is so fucking pretty.

“A puffy snowsuit would be lovely, actually. Arms, legs, all wrapped up. Cover your gorgeous hair in a hat too, if we’re at it. But if I knew you’d wear what I bought you, all you had to do was say so. Women always say I have excellent taste.”

You sigh, again, irritated and desperate to relieve that fist of tension in your shoulders, that gently knotting warmth between your legs. You wonder how much rubbing your crotch with the seam of your jeans you could get away with before he’d say something.

No, fuck, shit – focus. You’ve got to get a grip. This is just like those long night study sessions at the academy. All you had to do was buckle down and get serious about this. Sleep deprivation and curtailing your basic instincts didn’t scare you. You had been outlasting men like Javier your entire life and you weren’t about to get weak-kneed now.

And then something occurs to you that you hadn’t really considered before.

You had been so caught up in your own denial, in fighting your own need to hump your pillow even for a bit of relief – you hadn’t stopped to think what this might be doing to him.

Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.

Here's a crack in his resolve and you had seen it. Just for a minute. But it's there. You didn’t have to win so much as to make him lose.

Javier Peña. Nowhere to go and having nothing to fuck made him a very dangerous man. One you could easily exploit. However, and as much as it physically pained you to admit, Javier was smart. Blind-sided by his own horniness, or not, if he caught wind of you purposefully stacking the odds against him, there was no telling what he’d do in retaliation.

For a moment, your sex-deprived brain lounges in the idea of the many forms his retaliation might take.

No – Focus. You lick your lips, wrenching your gaze to the ceiling of the car. You had to be very careful about this.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” Go at it from the side. Around back while his attention is focused elsewhere. This was fucking guerilla warfare tactics. Placate him with submission. “I didn’t realize my outfits were bothering you. It’s just . . . it’s been so hot lately. I feel like I wake up, drenched wet in sweat, and it’s just too much still. And then, with this bet, sometimes I wake up and between my legs, I’m so –,”

A fist slams against the inside of the window so hard and so loud it makes you jump. His shoulders hunched, the fist in his lap tight and white-knuckled, he doesn’t even fully open his mouth when he snarls, “Do not . . . under any circumstances . . . finish that fucking sentence.”

He’s breathing heavily, breath skipping between his ribs, and you know you’ve got your opening. Your bottom lip drawn in between your teeth, you’re as much transfixed by his control visibly slipping as you are secretly, darkly thrilled to hear him make those noises. He breathes for a few more times, eyes closed. The sound of rain makes another appearance.

His hands come up to wrap around the steering wheel, as if he were picturing something else flexing beneath his palms.

“I know what you’re doing, or what you think you’re doing. But it’s not going to work. It’s just going to make me mad and I am not above hauling you over my lap and spanking you for being such a tease.”

You aren’t sure what shorts out your brain first: the fact he caught on so quickly, or the mental image he’s painting – and how much you fucking love it. God, when did it get so hot in here? You can feel sweat pooling along the ridge of your spine, under the cups of your bra. As though reading your mind, he shucks off his notorious brown jacket and hurls it into the back seat. Your toes curl in your boots. He’s wearing that white linen shirt that expertly shows off the cut of his biceps, his forearms and is more appropriate for a beach trip in Hawaii than the mean streets of Bogota. In his movement, his infamous sunglasses clatter against his stomach – if he just buttoned his collar all the way up like any man with an ounce of decency, they wouldn’t get in the way as much. You want to tell him that, correct him yet again, but now you can see the sweat shine in his clavicle, skin slightly pink and feverish over the hollow of his throat. You had no idea you affected him this much.

“You’re right. This is ridiculous.” He huffs, tossing back his glasses too before flopping back against the seat. “This can’t be healthy, at least. Edging ourselves for weeks at a time. I keep seeing tits in the clouds.”

“So then end it already.” You don’t mean to sound breathless – it’s the opposite of what you want – but your heart rate still hasn’t settled over the idea of Javier spanking you till your ass is red. He’s so much bigger than you, broader. He’d do it rough, if you asked, you know he would. You really hate to sound like you’re begging, but maybe you are. His eyes snap open wide at your near whimper. “Javi, please. We’re not going anywhere. He’s been in there for hours and he’s not coming out any time soon. Just unbutton your pants – I can just watch you – drop your hand in your underwear and –,”

A hand that can cup you nearly from ear to ear flies across the console and claps over your mouth. Something’s changed about him. You can see it in his eyes. At this point in your partnership, you had become fairly good at identifying his emotions, given there were only a handful he ever cycled through: tired, irritated, bored, furious, frustrated, disappointed. But this . . . this is different. His shoulders still face forward, arm reached out over the console, but his thick eyebrows arch down, as if he’s considering something. His head is cocked slightly to the side. You have to stop yourself from breathing in a sigh when his tongue wets his bottom lip.

“I’ll willingly lose this godforsaken bet on one condition,” he rasps out. His hand is warm, all consuming, you can barely breathe under it. You train your entire focus into the way his hair flops over his forehead to keep from whining at what his deep voice does to your lower half. Your muscles clench and your neglected pussy drools. Fuckin’ traitor. “And the condition is, that after this is done, after this fucking doomed stakeout is finally over, I drive us home and you let me rail you against our couch. How does that sound?”

You squeak, once. That’s it, but you can already feel that tell-tale hum, that warmth that almost itches, taking root below your stomach. His eyebrows arch in surprise, in victory, that smirk threatening to make an appearance. Your nails dig into the pleather seat – you want to thrash back, to get out from under the weight of his hand, to snark back a litany of responses that are not only mean but belittling – but you don’t.

You know he can feel you swallow and his eyelids hover halfway as he licks his bottom lip. He shifts, elbow now pressing against the back of the seat, his weight leaning forward, almost pressing down on you. His other hand is dangerously close to your knee.

“I’d make it good. I’d make it so fucking good, I swear. I’ll get down on my hands and knees and eat that wet little pussy for as long as you want. Lick and suck that attitude right out of your cunt.”

The car is too small, too cramped. Heat is washing over you in waves and the ache between your thighs is burning. With him this close, you can smell his cologne, the cologne that you rib him endlessly for because you’ve watched women inhale it like a pheromone as he passes down the hall. The scent now floods your senses, choking out everything that isn’t him, and your fingers dig up around his wrist, to pry him off you. You can feel sweat trickle down your temple onto his pinkie over your cheek. He watches it with his eyes, hungry and ready to devour. You have to wrestle back some semblance of control, or else your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

With all the strength left over from keeping yourself from bucking your hips up into the center console, you shove him back across the car.

“You fucking . . . stay over there,” you croak, gulping down air as if you had been deprived. He sprawls back, arms outstretched across the window ledge and the back of his seat. “Don’t ever fucking t-touch me again. Those things y-you said. I should report you–,”

“Why?” he chuckles. “You liked it. Thought you were going to eat me there for a minute . . . and I would’ve let you.”

It’s remarkably easy how your white-knuckled, lightning-sparked anticipation for him to do exactly what he said he’d do quickly morphs into a near-blinding rage. He doesn’t get it – he still doesn’t get it – he thinks this all a fucking game, when every minute of every day, your entire self-worth was put on the line.

But this is how you danced with him – right up to the edge, barking, screaming, yelling, then when it got real, or even almost real, you backed down. And he knew it.

“You really deserve someone who knows what they’re doing,” he continues. He folds his arms across his chest, grinning wildly. “Maybe that would teach you to be nice. Is that why you’re so nasty all the time? Someone who cares about you to properly stuff up that sweet little pussy in the way you need it?”

You feel fire crackle up and down your spine, plunging low to lick your insides every time he muses about the state of your cunt, then sky-rocketing back into this rage you’ve built out like walls.

It’s your turn to twist in the seat, to push against the windows as if you could expand and break out from this twisted scrap of metal that kept you chained to him.

“This is not about sex, Javier.” Your teeth ache from grounding out the words. “This is about proving to every single man out there that I deserve to be here. That I’m not just some cock-struck idiot who falls to her knees just because you snap your fingers. I don’t care what you think I need or what you want to do to me. I don’t care because until I come out of this bet the winner, all they’ll ever see is a pair of tits who negs them to do their fucking jobs.”

That wipes the smirk instantly off his face.

His eyes go soft and that might be worse than when he threatened your cunt.

“You think I don’t respect you.” It wasn’t a question but a surprised, almost hurt, statement. He sits up as best he can while still facing you. You were both irate and appreciative that you didn’t have to put it all into words. Words that would make you, again, feel like an overly emotional wimp. Someone with feelings. “You think I’m doing this – that I’m still doing this – because I want to humiliate you.”

You wait in silence for the pricking in your throat to subside before continuing on. “Is that not why? To bend that bitch as far as she’ll go before she breaks so everyone can see how much of a child she really is?”

His nostrils flare. “That’s the second time you’ve called yourself that tonight and I won’t stand for a third. Do you understand?”

His protectiveness flares so fast you aren’t quite sure what to do with it, so you nod.

“Good.”

Javier turns back around, his knees spread outright around the edge of the steering wheel, and picks the packet of cigarettes from underneath the radio. He wheels down the window again, rain spitting inside the inner ledge, and he lights up for the first time all night. His breath is shaky as he exhales through the crack he made. You can’t stop staring at the shine against his throat. What was rain and what was sweat? The golden lights from the store fronts and shops make the curls around his neck glow.

“I’m sorry that by fighting with you, I made you feel inferior. If you can believe it, I actually respect the living shit out of you and I . . .” He taps out ash before dropping his gaze to his lap. “That was never my intention, but Christ alive, you drive me crazy.”

If anyone ever asked, with a gun to your head, what was the one thing that immediately turned you on, you would without question answer with: Javier’s voice. How deep it got when he barked orders. How stern and serious it was when he directed raids and stationed soldiers. How playful it could be when you stopped trying to claw his eyes out.

He inhales slowly, thoughtfully, before blowing out again, fully turning his shoulders away from you as if something he is ashamed to admit is crawling up his chest into his mouth. He presses back against the seat, his unoccupied fingers tapping on his thigh.

“I think you’re one of the best agents I’ve ever met,” he confesses quietly. “Which should be the only opinion that matters, actually. I don’t say that to be egotistical – this bet isn’t about them. It’s between you and me, so fuck them. They’re all idiots and you know that. They know you know that and that’s why they want to take you down. Some men can’t stand it when a woman is smarter than them.”

Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth. There is a heady mixture of pride, relief, and lust swirling lower and lower. He thought you were one of the best agents he’s ever met. Your lower half tightens at the praise, especially coming from him. “And you? What do you think?”

Javier grins. He flicks the butt end of the cigarette out the window and rolls it all the way up as he says,

“It’s a fucking turn on, is what I think.” His hips adjust towards you, that obnoxious belt buckle gleaming in the low light. Do not look at his crotch. He presses the backs of his two fingers against his mouth as he watches you. “But I’m not going to let you win this bet because you flutter your pretty eyes at me.”

He knocks his temple against the headrest, gaze shamelessly sweeping up your thighs, your wrists – of course, your tits – your neck and then your lips. You had caught glimpses of this look from him before – when you were reporting to a room full of slobbering men with precision and direction, or when you kneed a suspect into the ground, pinning him down and cuffing him with the other hand or that one time you joined the game of volleyball at the agency picnic in nothing but a sports bra and swim trunks. But now, that unique Javi look that seemed reserved only for you, it barrels down on you in full force – not another agent or superior around the corner to drag his attention away. Without restraint, he let those dirty, nasty little thoughts spring into his mind and you can almost hear the moans you're making in his head.

The desire that had been reduced to a simmer suddenly flares up in a fever pitch. Between your legs, your cunt aches at the mere hint of attention.

“Javier, don’t,” you warn. You try to back away, try to cut the argument in half like you do in the office by storming away down a hallway or into the bathroom or your car. But you can’t. You’re pinned by proximity under the weight of his stare. You’re not even fighting with him and he’s making you angry.

Angry? God, leave it to fucking Javier Peña to prove to you that the line between rage and being outrageously turned on was a razor-thin edge.

“I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he croons. He rounds his shoulders as if trying to lean forward, cover himself with his body. If you couldn’t see the whites of his knuckles around his clasped hands, you would have feared you would have been making this all up. “I’m not touching you, just like you asked.”

“Thank you, Javi,” you squeak out. “Now, please let's just get back to–,”

“I could, though, if you change your mind.” His eyes follow a very predictable path up the curve of your throat. “I could touch you. Are you going to change your mind?”

Even now, on the knife edge, even when he has been extraordinarily honest with you, you can’t make yourself say it. Can’t ask for it.

“It’s against the rules.” Because she's a traitor to you, your cunt leaks when you meet his jet black gaze. You feel the sweat on your neck return so fast you shiver. “I will kick you if you come over here again.”

“You’re so mean to me but, fuck, I love it so much.” He smirks. With mounting horror, you watch as he lifts his hand, the same one that flew over your mouth, up to the lip of the center console. “Here I am pouring my goddamn heart out, and you want to resort to violence.”

Not so much cautious, but more with the slow, syrupy flow of direct and deliberate intention, he brushes the backs of his fingers against your thigh. You jolt back, a muffed gasp caught between your teeth, but you don’t move to snatch his hand away.

He watches your face for any hint of resistance. When he doesn’t find any, he continues, casually flowing the pads of his fingers from the top of your knee, all the way up to your hip.

“Do you wanna know what I think, baby?” He purrs. “I think, somewhere along the way, someone came along and really fucked you up. Hurt you beyond comprehension.” His touch is more insistent now, more of his fingers, his palm occasionally. His thumbs sweeps your inner thigh and your cunt clenches down onto nothing and your teeth ache in your head.

“Javier–,”

His eyes flutter for a minute at the sound of his name tearing through your mouth. “Fuck, you’re getting me distracted . . . what was I saying? Oh, yeah . . . I think someone fucked you up and like the fucking warrior you are, you built up safeguards to never let that happen again.” His eyebrow arches lazily as he palms your waist. By the sheer grace of God, you had tucked your shirt into your pants today, never wanting to give the men in the bullpen the satisfaction of an accidental flash of skin. But Javier just tuts at the intrusion. His knuckles digging into your skin, he pinches out the edge of your shirt, bit by bit. “Problem is, you kept building until you locked yourself in and now you don’t know how to get out. You don’t know how to ask nicely at all.”

His broad palm slides uninterrupted under your shirt, smoothing the rough pads of his fingers across your stomach, and then up to the underwire of your bra. That’s enough to jerk you out of this dizzying haze.

“Javi, you can’t–,” you squeeze your eyes shut, as tight as your cunt, as he threatens to brush his thumb over your teased nipple. “I–I don’t wanna – I don’t wanna lose –,”

“Fuck the bet, sweetheart. You can tell them I lost for all I care. Right now, I just wanna feel you gush between my fingers.”

He doesn’t even need to touch your tit to yank that first moan out of you, but the breeze of his thumb only elongates the noise. Your own hand claps over your mouth this time, to muffle half of that stifled sound.

“None of that now,” he purrs, switching the direction of his hand and going lower on your body. “It’s fine when we’re in public, but here, I want you hoarse from screaming my name as loud as you can.”

“Javi, please–,”

His hips twitch. Twitch so hard they jerk off the seat, the side of his crotch rubbing the steering wheel. His eyes roll back in his head.

“Juuust like that, baby. Keep saying my name just like that.”

His fingers don’t slow down as they breach the waistband of your pants. He didn’t even unzip you so his entire warm hand is shoved right up against your coarse, damp hairs.

“Fuck, is this sweat, baby, or is it from me? Please fucking lie if it's not and tell me it’s for me.”

The pad of his middle finger skims the top of your lips, terrifyingly close to your clit and you finally react. Your clit throbbing, your fingers clamp down on his wrist and he freezes. But he’s panting, breathing harshly across the seat.

“Don’t ask me to stop. Not right now. Please don’t –,”

Your hips buck into his palm and your head drops back against the window. You end up pressing him harder against you and you moan.

“It’s you, Javier, I’m dripping for you.”

“Shit,” he snarls and rubs himself against the steering wheel again, anything to relieve the pressure. His fingers slide around the edges of your puffy, swollen lips, skitters across your pulsating clit, and you nearly orgasm from the direct touch. You jerk back, the denial of your orgasm almost painful, but because your waistband binds him to you, his fingers come with you and you bump into them again. You almost cry out at the intrusion, but his hand is still.

“Can I touch you– c-can I put them inside you, baby – please?”

Tight-lipped, you shake your head furiously, muffling nuh uh between your teeth. He hisses darkly.

“This can’t possibly still be about this stupid fucking bet –,”

“I don’t – w-w-wanna lose – I-I-I don’t wanna lose –,” you swallow, voice breaking, and you yank his hand out from your soaking underwear. You can’t bear to look at his fingertips, assuming from the ocean between your thighs, they’ll come out pruny. But the ache doesn’t go away. It lingers, waiting and lurking for the next touch. It’s been denied too many times tonight. Your head spinning, you gasp for breath for the split second he’ll allow.

“You know, for such a smart woman, you really don’t get what’s best for you.” His other hand finally comes around and grabs your knee, pinning you apart with his broad hand and his other elbow as his fingers dive for the buttons of your pants. You try to shut your legs, but the box at your feet is immovable. “Just fucking relax and let me take you apart.”

“W-w-wait, Javier, that’s not–,”

His gaze pinning you down as much as his weight is, his fingers deftly unzipping your pants, sliding through the opening, and pressing up against your sodden panties. You gasp. It’s relief, painful, throbbing relief, but it comes at the cost of fire licking your spine.

“But that’s not what you need, is it, pretty baby? That’s only part of it. Touching is one thing, but you need someone inside of you, don't you? Need someone to fuck up into that pretty cunt.” Your pussy swollen, you fight to breathe as much as it to fight off your impending orgasm. “Just say thank you, Javi when we’re done, alright?”

Unrelenting and deaf to your cries, his fingers strip back your underwear and finally, finally, finally, he sinks two fingers into your hot, pulsating core. His shoulders shudder as you arch back, letting out a wail. Your thighs quake around the box in front of you.

“‘Is so good. So warm.” He slurs. His hand releases your knee and slides up your hip to palm as much of your ass as he can reach. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He inhales like he wants to haul you over the console into his lap, but that you resolutely cannot allow, because there would be no coming back from that. You can still see the other side of your orgasm, enough to stifle it back down, sequester it. He strokes your inner muscles, in and out, the wet sound obscene – you must be gushing – and he hums. “Listen to that, sweetheart. God, the things I could do with that. Put you over my fucking shoulder, for one.”

Your release is roaring at you, the razor-edge of pain and pleasure digging into the meat of your pussy, as you fight again to deny what you actually really want. You plant your heels, rolling your hips against his fingers because if you were going to fucking lose, you were going to be the one to make you do it. Not him.

And then unprompted, he retreats his fingers and all but shoves them into his mouth. His hips buck up again and he’s not breathing properly. You shudder at the loss of contact but at least the edges of your vision return. God, you’re not sure how much more you can take. But there is some respite, even for a moment. Javi seems to have momentarily forgotten how close he had come to winning.

Saliva and your thready cum dripping from between his lip, Javier sucks on his fingers as if someone were threatening to cut off his hand. His hips bump lazily, distractedly, against the steering wheel as his other hand white-knuckles his knee. He licks his wrist up to the meaty side of his palm, never one to waste excess.

“Fuck, fuck, f-f-fuck,” he murmurs, eyes closed. The sight has you flushing again. “I’m gonna eat that cunt whole if it’s the last thing I do. Gonna put you in my lap and bounce you on my cock until you beg me to let you –,”

“Come.” You command, sanity finally snapping as you use the same voice to scold rowdy students at the academy or talkative agents in a presentation. It’s forceful, direct, and you are hoping that it throws him off enough to do exactly that. Come, so you win fair and square. Because that means you can finally come too.

It works.

Or it nearly does.

Javier’s spine goes rigid, hips still, his soaked fingertips hovering inches from his wet lips. His eyes snap open and oh, shit, you’ve done it now, you’ve really done it now. His once blissed out face contorts into that scowl of primal determination that only comes down for raids. For meetings with sketchy CIs. Moments when lives are at stake.

“What did you just say to me?” The growl is more gnarled wolf than human. You immediately back up as far as the car will allow, the front of your pants still undone.

“Javi, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry –,” By his expression, you half-expect him to throw open the door, storm around to your side, yank you to your feet and start fucking you against the car window. Your cunt is throwing a fucking riot at this point. She’s so pissed at you, she’s squeezing so tightly, you think she’ll suck the air right out of you. “I wasn’t thinking – i-i-it just slipped out –,”

He unbuttons two more of his buttons on his shirt and you think, deliriously, he’s going to take his shirt off, but no, he’s just letting more heat escape. More steam rise from his sweaty back. He seems to grow, fill out, until he takes up the entire front seat of the car.

“Please, please, don’t make me come, Javi.” You cry, shrinking back as far as you can. You might actually die from this. From him or a lack thereof. Either way, Javier Peña is going to destroy you.

“I should leave you alone, you know.” He growls. “I should just leave you there to fucking drool into your jeans, smart little cunt knotted up so tight, I could breath on you and make you come. The kind of shit you pulled tonight, you fucking deserve to suffer. But I’m not going to do that and you know why?”

Without warning, his hand snatches around your wrist, yanking you up against the center console. He’s right, you’re so fucking close, the movement rubs you wrong and you squeak again.

Slowly, with superhuman restraint, his nose delicately strokes the underside of your jaw by your ear, then down your neck, as if inhaling the goosebumps that burst out across your skin. You shudder. “J-J-Javi, p-p-please –,”

His other hand slides back up under your shirt, his fingers slotting in between your ribs, your back as arched as it can go. He feels you breath shakily and he closes his eyes. His next words are so soft, spoken so close to your cheek, you can feel the hairs there vibrate with the frequency of his voice.

“I’m not going to do that because I want you to know exactly what the fuck has the secretaries in a goddamn hissy fit over. I want you to think of me and me only every time you try to open your legs for anyone else. I want you to cry in frustration every time you can’t make yourself come with just your fingers because they’re not mine – they’re nowhere close to mine – and I want you to scream in frustration when I don’t pick up the phone. After tonight, I’m going to ruin you for everyone else.”

He pauses, as if expecting an answer, but he couldn’t possibly think you are capable of responding, of dredging actual human thought up out of the murk he held you under. His lips drag gently over the arc of your cheek as he leans into your ear. His voice rumbles and you whine, embarrassed, at the sound alone.

“Because that’s what you’ve done to me.”

No, no, that can’t possibly be right – it’s a trick. It’s a trap. It’s a lie. Javier Peña can’t actually be –

And then, in that same, slow timbre of voice, Javi says,

“I’m gonna finger-fuck you now, okay?”

Any chance of fighting back, of arguing still, is obliterated when his hand shoots back down between your thighs, surges past your underwear, and hooks his fingers up inside you again. This time it’s fast, he’s not waiting for you to gather your sense, he’s going to split you open, here in this fucking Pontiac.

The force of his thrusts make your spine turn to ooze and you drop forward onto his shoulder.

Fine. It’s fine. You’ll fucking lose. Who cares about your precious pride?

You don’t realize you’re whimpering in time with his fingers until you try to say his name. He cups the back of your head, reverently, as he spews more filth into your ear. As if the lewd noises he’s evoking from your pussy isn’t enough.

“I’m going to take care of you, you little sweet cunt. I’m going to take care of you the way no one else has. That’s right, that’s a good little pussy, squealing for me. Hmm, tell me, does she like this?”

His thumb merely brushes your clit, the lone survivor in all of this, and your hips jolt in his hand. He holds you steady against his shoulder. Your fingernails dig into his bicep.

“Oh, yeah, she does. Of course, she does. I can do that for as long as you like, alright?”

That white heat curls your body inwards, tearing your mouth open, and sending your eyes to the back of your head. “JaviJaviJaviJavi – please –,”

He tsks into your ear. “You keep saying that but you never tell me what you’re begging for.”

It’s coming. It’s staggering. It eclipses everything and it’s just out of reach. You feel it start to expand and after all this time, it’s actually a fucking relief to give yourself over. To let yourself be rent asunder by something this huge and overwhelming.

His fingers, the ones not rocketing you towards the biggest orgasm of your life, gently wind up into your hair, sweetly caressing the soft skin behind your earlobe. His voice is quiet, coaxing, kind. His lips almost kiss the ridges of your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll tell you what to say. Say, Javi, I want you to make me come.”

“Javi, I–,”

There’s an explosion.

No, not like that. He’s not that good.

It’s a literal explosion in the street, with flashes of flames and heat that rattle the car. Alarms go off, your vision goes white – because of a pipe bomb stationed out underneath a car parked outside the part-time gambling den, part-time brothel. Javi’s arm flings out in front of you as the car is rocked from the impact. Flames lick the charred out husk of the front of the building. Only when your ears stop ringing, do you finally hear the screaming.

And then patter of bullets.

“Baby, get your gun and stay low!” He roars, as the windshield of the car behind you shatters, the popping of gunfire echoing the distance. He lunges back and grabs his jacket, fumbling for his gun. The panic in his voice shakes you awake and you dig into the glove box for your own handheld.

It’s a firefight for your lives, in the middle of the rain, in the middle of chaos and smoke.

It’s time to go to work.

🤍Part 2

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix

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suzukiblu · 5 days ago

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✨ about/info/FAQ ✨

( new pinned post, due to some necessary link and info updates and the like that I wanna make easy-access for people )

Hello, friends, my name is Rin and and I am a queer nonbinary they/them in their thirties who writes a lot and also occasionally draws a thing or two. I mostly post WIP excerpts of my writing, links to my finished fics, and writing-related chatter, meta, and "what should I write?" polls on here, and sometimes some random fanart. I do semi-frequent writing and/or art-related request memes too, depending on my schedule and mood and the position of the moon and sun and Venus and also my dog's mood, as one does. 🧡

I dabble in various fandoms at various times, but my current hyperfixation is definitely a ridiculous superclone and everyone he hangs out with. So like, mostly Young Justice and the Superfam; mostly them, hahaha.

Some of my content isn't sfw or is just straight-up porn; my work may include rape/noncon/dubcon, past or present abuse, emotional or literal incest, and other related themes, and I also write a fair amount of omegaverse and clonecest if those topics are not your cup of tea. I do my best to tag all of the above and also whatever kinks and common triggers I can think of, so there shouldn't be any unpleasant surprises, but just so you're aware, those topics are gonna be around.

I also have a Ko-fi, and I'll write thank-you sentences for anyone who tips me and requests something from a specific WIP, minimum one sentence per dollar. Monthly subs are also available for various rewards, including WIP updates and discounted mini-commissions. The 3USD original serial level is currently on hiatus, but the other levels are all active.

relevant links:

AO3 - where the finished stuff and actively updating fics go

DC WIPs tag list - where the works in progress are sorted for easy-access

misc tags - miscellaneous meta/WIP tags from other fandoms

related works - where delightful people have taken advantage of my blanket permission to make art/fics/podfics and the like!

Ko-fi - where I live in a capitalist society and also you can make me write stuff!

#info post

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yourlocaltreesimp · 8 months ago

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Great things

TP!Link x reader but of @acrossthegalaxyau’s Beast. A lot of this isn’t proof read because my god it’s a long one.

Tw: depictions of gore.

The hand that held his sword was tired. In both a very literal and metaphorical sense. Long ago, he had begged his father to let him hold a blade, to learn to fight. To protect that which was precious to him. Now, with all he longed to protect kept at a healthy arm's length, he wondered when his hands had gotten so tired. When had his wrist become so sore from the burden it held?

To him, his burn out, his loss of drive within the world was an infection of sorts. The title of Hero was a burden that in many ways he wished he wasn’t bestowed. Well most certainly an honour, seeing that which he loved, which he fought so hard to protect, be harmed and disregarded was not a motivation. The responsibility wore at his bones until they cracked and ate at his energy until he passed out, only to be shoved back into him the second he awoke. The title of hero outweighed his own name. No longer was he Link of Ordon, But Link the Hero of Hyrule. He was no more than his deeds. Then the safety he was tasked with bringing to their feet, begging like a dog for any award. In some sense, he was awarded. With titles and land and money and publicity— but none of it mattered. To a hero, perhaps these things were valued. But to Link if Ordon, such prizes were worthless. They were gifts of obligation, not of any true thankfulness or appreciation. And so, he viewed his task as obligation, and their gifts without any thanks or appreciation.

He stood now, a group of lizalfoe in front of him, without much a feeling of fear. Not in such a sense of bravery or courage, but simply the absence of feeling. His sword sunk into flesh with no discernible difference between the monsters. Corpses were Corpses. In the eyes of fate and history, enemy was enemy. There was no concern for where they came from or what lives they might’ve led if he hadn’t come into their lives. It was his obligation to kill. To lay waste the creatures of evil. Four were downed, one last left standing among the bodies of its allies.

Clouds parted from the gibbous moon, letting its silver light steam down. Once upon his past, he would’ve spent such a night by fireside, you cuddled up against his side as some idle story filled your minds. Further back than those memories, you both would’ve snuck out to run along the river. Younger then, the two of you would’ve curled up in some quiet field after dinner and fallen asleep. Within those memories were gifts. The peace of domesticity he could no longer afford. Love of another which he now can no longer, lest you be ripped from him too. Contentment, something he can now only find within his memory. He could read between the lines of his life and surround himself with yes men, convincing himself its love, but contentment cannot be fabricated. It is a measurement only knowable by oneself, their enjoyment of simply being alive. And it was in the cold days that followed the abstractness of his journey that he is unhappy with the idea of simply being alive anymore.

Pain struck, washing over his network of nerves, his sword sinking into the wet dirt. Gnawing fangs latching to his flesh. He was only awake then long enough to see an arrow pierce the vile thing. He was only conscious long enough to scold himself— this is what comes of closeness. Pain. Suffering. Loss.

Staring down at the mixture of splintered bones and ripped skin didn’t affect you as much as it should’ve, but goddess knows how many hours into your nights at the ward meant you couldn’t scrounge up any more energy to be panicked. Night bleeding into cold night sapped out the care and individuality of each patient down to a cot number. The whole process got methodical over time— healing people. There wasn’t much of a difference within the bodies after enough time. It didn’t matter to you whether the patient was alive or dead, biologically a man or woman, or whatever arbitrary things society dubbed someone as ‘different’. Red potions and fairies worked their magic all the same on Zora as they did with Goron, so on and so forth. A needle pierced flesh no different from a child than it did an adult or elderly. Sure, there were minor differences in anatomy and function, different needs of each individual, but they were all just people in the end. It didn’t feel different to operate on one than it did another.

But there was something you found odd in the way you felt when it came to healing Link. All things considered, he wasn’t much different from any normal hylian. A little on the lean side, sure, but nothing apparently extraordinary at a first glance. Of course, with a little more information readily accessible, you knew a few quirks. Strong as the hero was foretold to be, he was littered with scars. A few on his back from fighting, the worst from the night the village was destroyed by the wakes of twilight. A nicked lip he’d received from a scuffle with a drunk man who lunged at you. A few lining the inside of his arm, which he didn’t need to define and nor did you force him. A long slice in his forearm from when he was trenching you how to shoot a bow. A small scar on the inside of his ankle from when he fell in the river when you’d both snuck out in the dead of night, his young body unable to balance on unsteady feet. Each one you’d bandaged and stitched and monitored. Each wound of his recklessness was eased by your hand.

Well, now you supposed, it wasn’t each. Now the man in question lay hardly living and hardly dead on your makeshift operation table, it seemed there was yet more to uncover when it came to Link. You were met with a familiar hollow burn beneath your ribs, seeing the angry red gash on his left wrist. Not even that he’d gotten such a wound in the first place, but with your offer to heal the wound being met with stiff silence. It would’ve been easy. Some gauze and disinfectant. It wasn’t even deep enough to warrant stitches. It was, however, deep enough to warrant infection in its neglect. Sure, To this alone you would’ve been only slightly frustrated. But seeing the flesh falling from bone on the right half of his abdomen was enough to convince you that said negligence happened to be enough to affect his ability of wielding his blade.

The sun was rising by the time you were done. Nearly eight hours it had taken to close all his wounds. Another spent on treating his infection. Changing his bandages over for the second time that… evening? night? You decided to let yourself question the possibly most apparent difference of your Link since you’d last been aloud to treat him. There was something embedded in his chest. About a palms length from his collarbone, embedded in his sternum was… something. And from it sprang magic. It discoloured his skin to a black geometric patch with teal lines crawling over his chest. It hummed slightly, in tune with his heart, and that hollow feeling rested within you again. It was more corrosive this time, eating away at you in a way you couldn’t begin to express. It burned within whatever soft place it settled in —your heart most likely— and for the first time that night you felt something other than bitter isolation. You believed it to be jealousy in one of its many wicked forms.

The thing with dead bodies was you knew from their lack of pulse and cold skin that there was no soul to connect with. There was no one there. Those who were alive provided a sense of warmth. Physically and emotionally. Once, Link too was the same. He was warmth. Your very own sun. He’d make sure you were safe and drag you up from the depths of whatever dark hole you’d crawled into with no expectation of a return. Now, Link was more akin to the former. He regarded you with unresponsiveness. Cold in every way but literal. You gave him space when he asked for it upon his return. You don’t question when he stopped showing up to events. You tried not to take it personally when he stopped talking to you. You tried to convince yourself he hadn’t walked out of your life without a second glance. You tried— you really did. And for a while it worked. You managed to fool yourself that he didn’t mean to, or that he’d be coming back. And maybe that’s the cruellest part, that you wholeheartedly believed your own lies. But looking down on the wounds he’s collected, you can’t help but be hit with the realisation that he doesn't want you anymore. He had seen the world outside of what Ordon had to offer. Through his heroism he’s travelled the highs and lows of Hyrule, met all its variations of people and became their Hero. A person of their creations. And with it, with their creation, you weren’t dubbed a necessary piece of him anymore. You weren’t the only one that loved him anymore. So how foolish could you be to assume that he was still yours?

Your trance was broken by his eyes fluttering as the sunlight streamed in. He blinked a few times before sitting up, you didn’t have the heart to usher him into laying back down with soft mutters. His slitted pupils adjusted to the light, growing thin and sharp as they met your own. His mouth fell slightly agape seeing you framed by the sunlight, an angel sent to him, surely. Your hands felt stiff as you grabbed his neatly folded clothes and other items, setting them on his lap.

“Your- Your service total is 300 rupees. Feel free to pay at the front or discuss other financing options.” Your voice shook as your routine line spilled from your lips. Your heart shook from the gasp that came from him, his weak lungs drawing in a cold, shuttered breath.

You turned on your heels, leaving the examination room with a heart beating as swiftly as your feet in the ground. Your world would wither without the sun. Perhaps it’s already started. Link, not your Link as you’d been used to referring to him by— that implied a connection you hadn’t had in a while, would be fine. Unbothered. After all, Heroes were meant for a life greater than what Ordon had to offer, what you had to offer. He’s meant for great things, you comfort yourself with the words you once would’ve assured him with. You just never assumed ‘great things’ didn’t include you.

#legend of zelda #link x reader #tp!link #twilight princess #TP!linkxreader #across the galaxy #aog!link xreader #aog!beast #aog x reader

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morlock-holmes · 8 months ago

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The Last Psychiatrist's book came out, which led me to two reviews, both of which call him out for saying stuff that is obviously crazy but both of which also contain incredibly bizarre statements just tossed out there with seemingly no self-consciousness about whether they are just as odd as anything TLP has written:

I'm just going to ignore those parts of Scott Alexander's review that are like that to focus on a pet peeve:

(The Bible describes very clearly what angels look like. Everyone agrees the Bible is the authority on angels, maybe the only primary source for them at all. All Western culture for 1500 years has been based around the Bible. There are hundreds of millions of people who take the Bible completely literally and read it every day. The Bible says - Revelations 22:18 - that if anyone changes the Bible in any way even by a single word they will be punished with eternal torture. And yet nobody’s mental image of an angel, nor any popular artistic depiction of an angel, has anything in common with the Biblical description. This is the highest-grade antimeme I feel comfortable using as an example; if you don’t see the fnords they can’t eat you.)

I mean that's... that's just definitely not the case.

Alexander links to this review by Zero HP Lovecraft (Whom I am unfamiliar with) who says,

I want to explain some things to you now that you probably feel deep in your bones but probably haven’t found the time to articulate. Whenever someone talks about “capitalism” like it’s a hostile alien living among us, they are either wittingly or unwittingly agitating for communism. They may not even realize it. Everyone feels some measure of discontent in their life and the lazy, fashionable scapegoat for this in current year america is “capitalism.” If you blame capitalism for your problems, no one will take it personally, and many of the other monkeys around you will make agreeable noises. But there is exactly one group of people who blames all their problems on capitalism, and that is communists. If you blame your problems on capitalism, you are a communist. If you talk about “late capitalism” or “late stage capitalism” you are (possibly unwittingly) claiming that the return of Christ glorious worker’s uprising is nigh, repent repent, every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Georgius Christ is Floyd. There are two ways you can try to get out of this: the first is “yes, and” and the other is “no, but”. If you’re part of the first group, you’re irredeemable. Communism, much like being a woman, is a congenital condition, and it can’t be cured, though sometimes you can treat the symptoms. If you aren’t a communist, but you scapegoat or criticize capitalism, then you are at the least participating in communism, but it may not be your essential nature. The slur for these people is “neoliberal” — a word that means someone who likes communism in theory but is just slightly too pragmatic to ever get past second base with her. You’re the ones I’m trying to help. We can tell TLP is in this second group because although he talks about capitalism, he saves his worst vitriol for “the media,” which is a right wing dog whistle, just like talking about capitalism is left-wing dog whistle. When a man is sending you mixed signals, it means he himself is confused.

This is more batshit than anything that he quotes from TLP.

I'm trying to figure out if this means:

"Capitalism" is a word that refers to every possible human economic system other than communism, such that by definition the only possible alternative is communism;

"Capitalism" and particularly "Communism" are not specific historical economic systems, but in fact names for the exactly two economic systems that can exist;

Current technological or political realities ensure that it is literally impossible to create any economic systems other than capitalism or communism at this particular moment, such that opposition to one is de facto support of the other

The first two would be bizarre, and even the last is, uh, contentious but reading further this guy wasn't pulling a schtick, he's just a depressing John Bircher who knows that if he pretends that he's giving you some secret post-normie secret insight we'll just forget everything about American history. Guys, did you know that blacks are inferior to whites, and more criminal, that only super insightful insight porn writers have ever come up with such an out-of-left field crazy idea that no american normie could ever actually believe?

Honestly, fuck this depressing fascist. His ilk are going to be running the country soon, complaining about how hamstrung they are as they march people into camps. It's amazing how good he is at selling the most normie American bullshit as, like, forbidden knowledge that only the most enlightened masters have cued into.

Honestly his opinions seem to be:

Men have been feminized, and that's bad;

White racial pride has been atenuated, and that's bad;

Trans people are mutilating themselves, and need to be stopped;

Blacks are more criminal than whites, and need to be controlled

But sold as, like, this forbidden knowledge that only somebody as smart as him could come up with. It's amazing how these people will see a finger-wagging leftist and then decide that said leftist must be running American politics.

I am poorer for having read this dumb bitch.

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delphiniumarchangelmoon · 1 month ago

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Final thoughts on eow cause I just did the final boss

Under a cut of course

Okay I know most people were probably underwhelmed by the final boss since you can’t actually fight it but. I’m easy to please, the fact that by the end I could summon three wolfos at a time??? I was having a great time twirling around the battlefield dodging attacks while my dogs killed Null ok?

Honestly I kept getting stronger and stronger echoes but. I used standard wolfos for basically everything the entire game. Dog army :)

I understand why everyone ships Zelda with Dohna I really do. But. Hear me out. I really like Darston.

Like genuinely I NEVER care about the primary Goron characters in these games they’re always annoying but he’s SO FLIPPING CUTE and his arc was basically Zelda helping him through losing his father and gaining confidence as a leader which is such a cool arc when you’re playing as a literal princess.

Anyway.

I can’t believe this game keeps making me ship het ships cause like, between zelink, the Zora leaders, and those random people in castle town at the well there are so many cute couples!!!!

Zelda finally has a good dad! And he’s not even dead! (Which is an accomplishment in this game.)

If I had a nickel for every plot relevant npc who was mourning the recent death of their father I’d have two nickels. wtf game did we need to do that plot twice? It hurted my heart :(

Kinda glad kinda not glad that it wasn’t an echo of Condé’s brother in that dungeon? Like it would have been cool to have my prediction come true there but it’s nice that they went for the non-obvious answer instead of doing another echo of an npc

I…don’t know how to feel about the deku scrubs. Like they’re equal parts hilarious and annoying as hell. It compels me though.

But that second jailbreak segment had me TEARING MY HAIR OUT it was SO HARD and for what????? Bro you’re spiderweb eating plant creatures tf is this security system why is it ten times better than Hyrule castle’s?????

I went back to wearing the link hood immediately after getting the other outfit, because it’s cute and I like it. But it was kinda weird that we gave him back all his other possessions but not his hood? Like he’s just letting me keep it? Boyfriend hoodie???? I’d rather have Boyfriend’s Stabbing Implement but ok. Hoodie works.

#echoes of wisdom

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year ago

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Sweet Serenade: Vergil x G/N Reader

MINORS DNI GO AWAY >:[ SERIOUSLY-- *grabs a broom and sweeps at you* SHOO

SUMMARY: Ever since you met the blue devil you’d loved to listen to him; be it a small noise or a loud shout, you always listened. Tonight, you found yourself home alone with him and begin to hear a different noise; one that you realize you aren’t supposed to be hearing.

BEGINNING NOTES: ♭ Top/Dom Vergil x (implied) Bottom/Sub G/N Reader ♮Unestablished relationship. ♯Everyone else can tell you are into each other. The two of you have gone “out” before; even though that’s not what either of you called it, it is what both of you wanted. ♮You live at the DMC with Dante and Vergil. ♭Smut--Vergil masturbation voyeuristic reader ♮Vergil enjoys the idea of the reader consensually submitting to him (I don’t want it to come across wrong) (The song is a link to a YouTube video of it if you want to listen)

The Devil May Cry was alive and bustling as per usual these days. There was never a dull moment not since the twins’ reunion and return from Hell. Although the happier and more welcoming atmosphere was a nice change of pace, you couldn’t help but miss the peaceful quiet times. Tonight was one of those nights.

The last contract was large enough that the whole shop got involved which resulted in an enormous payout. So, the crew decided to go out drinking to celebrate--Most of the crew anyway.

Nero was hesitant to join, not being one for social outings--like father, like son. However, Nico wasn’t taking no for an answer and was currently shoving Nero--quite literally--out the back door. Lady and Trish had already moved to the garage and were chatting. Then, of course, there were the Sparda twins; Vergil and Dante. The younger sibling had been nagging his brother for over ten minutes.

“Come on,” Dante playfully poked at Vergil’s shoulder for the umpteenth time tonight, staring at him like a kicked puppy dog, “Pleaseeee--”

“Dante.” Vergil sighed as he stood up, shutting his book with a loud thump, “For the last time, I am not going to your stupid bar and that’s final.”

The younger twin pouted slightly and let out an exaggerated exhale, “You’re so boring in your old age, Verge; you gotta learn to live a little,” Dante turned his attention to you and flashed a wide toothy grin, “You’re coming with right?”

You pursed your lips and shook your head ‘No’.

The red devil dramatically groaned and slumped forwards.

You gently patted his back, “Sorry, I'm just too beat to join in.”

Dante looked up at you and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

A warm smile tugged at your lips as you ruffled the red devil’s hair, “Maybe next time.”

“Promise..?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.”

He stood back up fully, a small smile tugging at his lips, “You’d best believe I’m gonna hold you to that, babe~!” He winked at you as he grabbed his coat from the back of the desk chair, sliding it on, “Just don’t go breaking the old man, alright? Kinda need him in the morning for a contract.”

“Huh-!?” Your eyes widened as you realized what he meant.

Vergil rolled his eyes and moved to stand beside you, just a few centimeters away from your side, “Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Dante?” He folded his arms and leaned back a bit.

“And if it is?” Dante raised a brow at his sibling.

“Tch,” Vergil’s gaze thinned, “As if they would have such low standards.”

“Careful there Verge might insult yourself since we are twins.”

“Perhaps, but we--”

The sound of Nero shouting and a loud thud caught everyone’s attention--it seems Nero finally gave in, or rather gave out, and fell face-first into the concrete of the garage. Nico stared down at the young man from the doorway before turning to the three of you, a semi-irritated tone to her voice, “We’re gonna leave your old asses if y’all don’t get a move on!”

Dante sighed and walked towards the door, “Sorry, only one ‘old ass’ is leaving tonight.”

Nico said something unintelligible as Dante shut the door, leaving Vergil and you alone.

The blue devil sighed quietly before addressing you, “I am going to retire for the night,” he moved toward the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he paused for a moment with parted lips, as if he were going to say something; however, he said nothing, shut his mouth, and ascended the stairs, disappearing into his room.

You sighed through your nose. Part of you had hoped Vergil might want to spend some time together, but that was wishful thinking. He’s not the “hanging out” type, even if the two of you spend most of your waking hours together. Deciding to do the same as the blue devil, you turned off the shop’s lights and headed to your room.

The floorboards creaked as you entered your cozy abode and flipped on the lights. With a slight bounce, you flopped onto your bed with a loud sigh. Your room was the smallest of the three make-shift bedrooms of the Devil May Cry and shared a wall with a certain blue devil’s room. Through the thin walls, you could hear the faint sound of Schubert’s music from Vergil’s record player. Admittedly, you didn’t care much for classical music but that slowly changed when the eldest twin moved in. His music selection was so different than Dante’s; it was calmer, relaxing, and gentle, all of which were something you found reflected the man’s inner-self--even if Vergil doesn’t seem the temperate type. Tonight’s selection was no different. Currently, the record was playing one of your favorites “Serenade”.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened to the violins' crescendos and decrescendos; how each phrase changed and grew. You allowed yourself to relax into your bedding as you slowly began to drift off. However, just as you closed your eyes, a small stifled grunt came from the other side of the wall and piqued your curiosity. Then, a growl followed by a visceral groan emanated from the other room. Although you knew it was intruding--and downright voyeuristic--you couldn’t help but get up and set your ear against the shared bedroom wall, listening intently.

Vergil had planned on reading and going to bed when he headed upstairs. Wishing to enjoy the few fleeting moments of peace within the walls of the shop. However, Vergil couldn’t get the teasing remark from Dante out of his head--the idea of Vergil making love with you.

As he read the same page over and over, Vergil found his thoughts devolving into more and more sinful ideas. He wondered what sounds you'd make when he ate at your body; what lascivious mewls and whimpers would you make? Would you enjoy it? How would you react to him holding you impossibly close as your bodies are neatly and sensually interwoven, connected together in an act of heated passion and lust? The endless amount of devilish sexual amusement he’d get from spearing your innards and watching you come undone under him. Your loud pleading cries from his overstimulating touch as Vergil plays with you long into the night and morning, not wanting to pass up this rare moment of privacy.

Admittedly he wasn't sure if you were into him as much as he is to you; however, that didn't stop the growing heat from spreading throughout his body. With an irritated huff, Vergil shut his book and grumbled to himself. He wasn’t typically one for masturbation and had mostly only partaken of such sinful delights in his youth.

Perhaps just one time wouldn’t be too bad, right?

The blue devil carefully set his book down, still debating if he really was going to do this. However, an overwhelming throbbing in his pants answered the question for him. He bit his lip as he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to indulge such degenerative thoughts; thoughts of what he wanted to do to you.

He palmed his hard-on through his jeans, imagining it was your hand instead. The slow sound of his belt being unbuckled, the snap of the button of his fly, the smooth sound of the zipper coming undone; all of this he imagined was your doing. Despite his distaste for such joys of the flesh, he did keep a bottle of lube in his bedside drawer just in case he’d ever need it--and tonight was one of those times.

Setting the bottle on the tabletop, he closed his eyes and ghosted his fingertips against his aching tent. A shiver ran up his spine as he released his cock from its fabric confines. He opened his eyes for a split second to grab the bottle of lube and put some in his palm before quickly closing his eyes again; not wanting to break his fantasy.

It started slow, almost painfully slow, as he bit his lip. He was fantasizing about the wet feeling from the lube being instead caused by your cute little mouth being wrapped around his cock. A small groan left his lips as he continued to fall further and further into this fictitious scenario. What he wouldn’t give just to fuck your mouth at least once. As he continued, his lack of practice became more and more evident as his hand moved in uneven and unsteady strokes. A sudden intense hot feeling spread throughout his body causing him to grow uncomfortable. He knew exactly what it was; he was losing himself, being much too engrossed in his pathetic devilish desires, practically egging on an accidental Trigger.

Quickly, he opened his eyes and shot up from the mattress, tossing his vest off to the side. Using one hand to hold himself up from the mattress, he continued to pleasure himself. His brow twitched as he closed his eyes again. In his mind, he toyed with the idea of you being pinned underneath him; completely submissive and powerless. A small growl came from his throat as he began to lose focus on staying quiet. The sight of you breathless and staring back at him with half-lidded eyes made his cock ache and his mind reeling.

Again he began to feel the hot feeling consuming his limbs, he needed to let his skin breathe--he needed to undress more. As he fumbled with the shirt buttons, he leaned upwards. Almost instantly getting frustrated with the small plastic clasps, he ripped his shirt from his body--shredding it--and tossed it off in a random direction. Vergil leaned back over the bedding, his hand that was supporting his weight had balled up the sheets; tearing it with his nails. The blue devil bit his lip again as his pace became even faster, however, this did little to deter the loud carnal snarling that he was making.

Vergil leaned further forwards, placing his forehead on the, now disheveled bedding. In his mind he was laying his head against yours, enjoying the feeling of your hot skin against his. The feeling of your hands within his hair and your legs wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer and further into your hole. A thin layer of sweat adorned his body and his hair had fallen forwards. A mixture of spit and a small amount of blood was dripping from his lips and onto the bed. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and filled with a disgusting amount of lust; a side of himself that Vergil, not only tries to hide from the outside world but, despises. However, he couldn’t be bothered to think about how unrefined and how feral he probably sounded and looked, the only thoughts to be had were ones about you.

As he approached his orgasm he began to whimper your name quietly to himself, wishing he had the courage to ask you out and to ask for you to give yourself to him--every bit of yourself to him. He began to rock forwards, bucking his hips into his hand. A greedy possessive feeling filled his heart, he wants to hide you away from the world, to keep you all to himself. A snarl left his lips at the thought of anyone else being able to have you, to take you from him. Vergil didn’t care how insane he sounds or how dangerous that kind of mindset is; he’s had everything taken from him his entire life and he will not allow anyone to take you from him. With each passing moment, he got louder and called your name more and more frantically.

When Vergil hit his peak, he leaned upwards and threw his head back. A loud thunderous growl and an almost whimpering moan came from him as his body twitched in ecstasy. Lots of smooth white ropes decorated his bedding as he opened his eyes to stare at the dark room’s ceiling above him, he felt several tears running down his face. Using the thumb of the hand still wrapped around his cock, he played with his tip, sending a jolt through his body; despite finding release, he was still just as worked up as before--perhaps even worse than before.

That’s when a set of knocks at his door made him freeze.

Was Dante back already? Or what if you had--

“Vergil?” It was you.

He panicked; despite not being clean, shoved his cock back into his boxers and jeans. Unable to find his shirt from earlier, he grabbed a random t-shirt from his dresser and slid it on so fast he failed to notice that it was backwards. Using the sweat from his brow, he slicked back his hair in hopes it would stay long enough for him to answer the door.

When he opened the door his words were discombobulated as he stumbled through his thoughts, “What?”

You said nothing but instead shyly looked away from him, your shoulders tensed up and you pursed your lips. That’s when Vergil noticed.

The strong unmistakable scent of arousal that was coming from you. You were just as, if not more, horny. Admittedly, he wanted nothing more than to pin you to the ground and take you right then and there; but he found himself hesitant.

With a very shy voice, you mumbled to him, “You alright? The record has been skipping for a while now and…” Your voice trailed off, unable to look him in the eye.

As he spoke a dark husky sultry tone came from him, a voice you’d never heard him use before, “Oh? Has it now?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I can hear it from my room…”

He smirked and turned you to face him, “It is quite invasive to be listening to others, Love.” His eyes met yours, “Especially if you were enjoying yourself to it.”

Your eyes went wide.

Vergil chuckled lowly, “I can tell from your heart that you either just ran a mile or were having a good time,” he leaned in closer, “and I can smell it on your hands, Voyeur.”

A set of sputtering unintelligible noises came from you, your face becoming flushed and Vergil enjoying the sight.

He stood back up and turned to face inside the room, “Now, why don’t you come in for a moment? I’ll remove the record after all,” He looked over his shoulder, “I’d much rather listen to your serenade instead.”

ENDING NOTES: ♯This has been sitting in my WIPs half-finished for a while so I wanted to finish it up; sorry if the ending is a bit weird, wasn't sure how to end it lmao ♮Fun fact: the beginning part (right up until overhearing Vergil) was the original start to “As You Wish (Part 1)” lol ♭“That Unwanted Animal” By The Amazing Devil really was a good inspiration for this fic. I’d highly recommend giving their music a listen “The Horror and The Wild” is a REALLY good album lol

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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wormbraind · 8 months ago

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based on @glassknee's post and @notevenalittle1294's addition, i present to you: the sims endbringer mod, pho style (but not really, this is a fictional sims forum)

♦ Topic: [Self-promo] Endbringer Mod In: Boards ► Modding FKNSHJ (Original Poster) Posted On Apr 20th 2012: Hi all. 🙂 I’m excited to share this mod I’ve been working on. It involves randomized Endbringer attacks. By default they’re fairly more common than they are in real life, happening maybe once every ten in-game years, but if you look at read_me.txt in the downloads I’ve enclosed information on how to alter the probability and how to trigger specific Endbringers as well as how to make them easier or harder to defeat. Besides that I also included CC and a few Easter eggs that won't affect your gameplay.

(Showing page 1 of 2)

►termina2 (2011 Sim Comp Finalist) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: whoa, so cool :D i dont play with my sims much so ill try activating some endbringer attacks and see how it goes. im pretty bad at coding tho... ^_^

►tritebuilds (2011 Build Comp Semi-Finalist) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: Hey what the fuck? Endbringers aren't a joke. You've clearly never seen the aftermath of an attack, this is making a mockery out of the trauma of Endbringer victims such as myself. Who even comes up with this stuff???

►hshater Replied On Apr 20th 2012: im getting my popcorn lmfao

►termina2 (2011 Sim Comp Finalist) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: trite let's keep this civil, please, don't swear...

►oldlostsea Replied On Apr 20th 2012: Wait, isn't this the guy who posted those *suggestive* images of Leviathan?

►hshater Replied On Apr 20th 2012: +oldlostland what?? on here?? where?? not in a weird way like i don't want to see them but proof?

►oldlostsea Replied On Apr 20th 2012: +hshater Ok weirdo. It was on some PHO dupe (it has better information but worse moderation) and I only remember because it was weird + the random letter username stuck with me. I'll DM you the link once I find it.

►hshater Replied On Apr 20th 2012: +oldlostsea yeah yeah take your time. FJSKJ you've got anything to say for yourself?

►oldlostsea Replied On Apr 20th 2012: +hshater I found his account on the site and I downloaded the mod. Definitely the same person. The art style resemblance is uncanny. Sending you the link RN.

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►spaceg1rl (Suspended) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: why does the mod's art look like that? yeah he definitely wants to fuck them screenshot(64).png

►hole (Moderator) (2011 Simp Comp Winner) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: @spaceg1rl This is your fifth infraction this year. Suspended for two months.

►hshater Replied On Apr 20th 2012: +oldlostsea sorry i was walking my dog. and yeah that looks exactly the same as what spacegirl (rip) posted +hole i mean this as kindly as possible pleasedontgivemeawarning but with that username what grounds do you have to stand on

►hole (Moderator) (2011 Simp Comp Winner) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: @hshater It's a reference to Hole, the band, of which I made many Sims. You can see them in my Round 2 submission to last year's Sim Comp

►hshater Replied On Apr 20th 2012: yeah i'm sorry to break it to you but your tag says simp comp. congrats though!

►termina2 (2011 Sim Comp Finalist) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: i really love the atmosphere and the art and the cc... really surprised this was made by one person! good job!

►tritebuilds (2011 Build Comp Semi-Finalist) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: +termina2 You are literally contributing to the normalization of Endbringer attacks.

►termina2 (2011 Sim Comp Finalist) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: ?? im going to log off for a bit to work on a school project. really dont like how toxic you all are getting :( it's just a mod

►tritebuilds (2011 Build Comp Semi-Finalist) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: @cookiecrumbles @tenovertwosmallstones PLEASE remove this. It's extremely offensive and potentially f*tish content.

►cookiecrumbles (Moderator) Replied On Apr 20th 2012: I'm disabling replies while we discuss this. Please avoid harassing each other anywhere else in the meantime.

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#writing #parahumans #endbringers

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doomwitctheories · 3 months ago

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YOU and HIM is an 18+ visual novel. Minors, refrain from interacting.

So... as an Audhder with special interest in videogames and animals, those two things may overlap once.

... or multiple times.

Just for fun, I'm using one of my favorite visual novels to gush about animals, much like a game theory episode.

Two disclaimers before we start. Even tho I'm very interested in zoology, I'm not an expert, so it's very likely I will make mistakes. Secondly, I'm not a native English speaker, so there's a chance I'll make your eyes bleed with bad grammar.

By the way, trigger warnings:

Animal mating behavior and genitalia. Predators and hunting. Carnivorous plants.

If you're uncomfortable with that, skip this post in its entirety.

Adam is a spotted hyena.

Adam is cat coded.

Cunning perceptiveness, playful taunting, antisocial behavior...

He's the human equivalent to an angry cat.

Except, this man doesn't take breaks.

Felines are carnivores focused on precision rather than resistance. Their strikes are deadly and expertly calculated, but they don't have much stamina. As a result, they generally need long periods of rest.

But this man is built like a fucking train. Adam is relentless, and he doesn't even look tired while chasing their target to the ends of the Earth.

That determination is usually attributed to canines.

Then, how come he has both the cat-like feel and the endurance of a dog?

That's when it hit me. Hyenas.

Spotted hyenas are the most dog-like members between the felines. They're tremendously intelligent, and utilize planning and deceit to get their way. Unlike other hyenas, spotted hyenas aren't scavengers, but hunters. Much like canines, they can and will hunt their preys to exhaustion.

Also, they live in matriarchal societies, which reminded me of Adam's undying love and respect for his mom (presumably).

Also! Also! (And this is specially rad). Hyenas are literally the embodiment of consent. Why? Well, female reproductive organs have evolved to look similar to their male counterparts. The advantage of this is that, to mate, female hyenas have to retract their pseudo-penis to create an opening. Which essentially means, mating literally can't occur without consent. In other words, forcing copulation is physically impossible for hyenas.

...

(cough cough *male hyenas are subs, even if they outweigh their partners* cough cough)

Who said that!? Anyway.

There you have it. Adam is a spotted hyena. I cannot unsee it, and now you can't either.

Mermay season. If Adam is a tiger shark, then Saffron is a great white shark.

For Mermay, the creator of the game posted a beautiful drawing of Adam as a tiger shark.

(Which, by the way, has a lot of similarities to a hyena, starting with the spot patterns on their tail, that look very much like the fur of a spotted hyena. Another similar characteristic is their diet. Surprisingly varied, they will go after anything, really. Much like hyenas. Both are the "predator garbage eaters" of their respective ecosystems).

But this section isn't about tiger sharks as much as it is about Saffron.

If we look at the ranking of recorded fatal shark attacks, tiger sharks are really high up, only second to the great white shark. Which is odd because, even if either encounter is extremely rare, white sharks tend to be more curious and swim near boats and surfing areas, yet tiger sharks are up there in the rank right behind them. This leads me to believe that, under the same circumstances, tiger sharks are more likely to attack you than white sharks.

I find this comparison really fitting for the dynamic Adam and Saffron present in game. While Adam is the very first predator you encounter (tiger shark: more opportunistic, less selective), he's much easier to dodge than Saffron, who's much less likely to confront you himself, despite roaming around and studying you curiously, but once he's in court, you better pray (great white shark: less opportunistic, more selective).

Appearance-wise, white sharks and Saffron are also alike. Not only cause of the albino hair, that matches the shark's white belly, but cause of their pointed snout, which is considered an elegant feature.

Their hunting style is also similar to Saffron's, generally stalking their prey from below, to later launch a surprise attack that tends to be fatal on its own. I compare this to his bad end, in which he attacks YOU from behind, leaving you completely defenseless thanks to a powerful anesthetic.

In conclusion, we have found ourselves a deadly shark duo for the next mermay. Adam the tiger shark and Saffron the great white shark.

YOU are a Venus flytrap and Adam is doomed.

In literature, the femme fatale refers to a character (not necessarily a woman) that relies on seduction to bend their victims to their will.

YOU are at a disadvantage. Your opponent is larger, stronger, faster and more experienced than you. Much like insects, they have a set of tools and freedom of movement you simply don't.

How do you survive then?

You need to turn your opponent against themselves by messing with their biology.

The traps of the Venus flytrap are covered with a delicious nectar.

One sip of this nectar, and it's over for their prey, fly or otherwise.

Even if the insect doesn't trigger the trap at first and manages to flee, they will return on their own volition.

This is due to the addictive nature of their taste, that works like a drug. As insects enjoy their meal, they get increasingly wobbly and uncoordinated.

And the more they linger, the more drunk they get, until it's only a matter of time the flytrap honors their name.

As you can see, these plants are the eco-friendly version of the femme fatale.

They beckon their meal closer, with a promise of such sweetness that makes their judgement hazy, and before they realize it they're already too deep.

I think Adam would agree this perfectly represents YOU, even if you're only acting this way to escape the serial killer.

To further resemble the first encounter between YOU and Adam, these traps don't close on impact. They have a timer. A set of sensory hairs that signal the trap to close shut if an insect brushes them twice or more in the span of 30 seconds.

Their resources are scarce, so they play the waiting game and rely on precision in order to survive, for striking without the field secured could lead to their death.

YOU need to be patient and make sure Adam is intoxicated before stabbing him the first time. YOU play with your words and remain vigilant on any opening available to make your move. YOU rely on confusion and purposefully ignite strong emotional reactions on your opponents to take advantage.

YOU play the part of a Venus flytrap, that learned to lure and manipulate in order to make it when all the odds are against them.

Pretty cool if you ask me.

It's even better, because you aren't competing against an insect, but with a human.

And humans are social creatures.

This means, attachment is a key factor of their condition, and they can't get rid of things they're attached to.

And Adam is no different.

The more time he's around YOU, the more attached he will become.

This essentially means Adam can't hurt YOU without hurting himself in the process.

Just the thought of YOU fading away has him recalling memories of his mother's passing, and we've seen the impact his nightmares have on him.

If YOU died, Adam would be physically incapable of acting normally. He would start to slip up, behave erratically or lash out. He could be potentially forced into therapy, but recovery would take precious time Saffron can't afford to lose. Not to mention the irreversible hit to their reputation.

Worst case scenario, another member of the band could be replaced. But the main singer? Impossible.

In summary, it's only a matter of time both Adam and Saffron realize hurting YOU would mean the end of CAKE, which would ultimately grant your survival.

On the downside, YOU will have to deal with Adam "hunting" you for the rest of your life. And just because you're safe, doesn't mean your friends and closed ones share the same luck.

Links:

https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/marine-science/articles/10.3389/fmars.2019.00037/full

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiger_shark

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_white_shark

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spotted_hyena

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venus_flytrap

#you and him #you and him game #you and him theory

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hanaruri-tunes · 1 year ago

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Degrading Leviathan (Levi x reader)

I am BACK from my uni exams, and I’m pretty sure I passed them all so please applause this genius over here. (Or don’t. That’s fine too :')

Anyway, as promised this is supposed to be the part 2 to the humiliating Leviathan fic, but it is smut so I’m pretty sure you can also read it without any prior knowledge of the other one fuehdhd Plot is not really important here after all.

⚠️ Also, if this wasn’t already obvious -> MDNI please!

If you want to read it though, here’s the first part. (Hopefully the link works.)

If you want to jump right into this one, here’s a quick summary of part 1 (or a quick reminder for those who did read it): Basically our MC here is pretty sadistic, she found some of her "belongings" in Levi’s room and understood that he was obviously using it to touch himself, she acts like she’s disgusted and disappointed in him, then makes him do some "stuff" for her so she’ll forgive him. And all the while, she’s mocking him (Levi’s into that, of course.) It ends with her revealing that she was acting and Levi is reassured (but still turned on. Yep.)

This is the direct continuation of that! Here are the warnings: praise, degradation, two dicks, a bit of petplay (dog Levi), raw, bj, usage of tail, overstimulation (and if I forgot some stuff don’t hesitate to tell me!)

MC/ Y/N is cisfemale in this one like the first part!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Now that the charade was over, Levi kept hanging onto you as you two were making out. This might have lasted either 5 minutes or half an hour, you're not quite sure. Slowly regaining your senses, Leviathan had naturally calmed down and turned back into his usual form and casual attire… though his dicks were still hanging out of his pants. You laughed.

"Isn't it about time you put those things away?"

Leviathan chuckled nervously.

"Oh… But I-I thought we weren't done?"

…

Huh?

"Well uh, aren't you tired? You came quite a lot… Not to mention from both of them so…"

He looked into your eyes, a pitiful air hanging around him while still holding into his wish firmly.

"No… I can finally kiss you, and touch you freely and even…"

He looked down to your skirt, under which he knows how wet you had gotten after the make-out session you just had despite the fact that you had just climaxed earlier from his tongue.

"Anyway! What I'm trying to say is- I can still go on for way longer. Probably more than you think. If anything, once is quite literally nothing now that I have you. I've dreamed of this for so long♡"

You take a pause to ponder it. It’s not like you couldn’t take him but you still wondered how you should go about this since, well, he has two of them. Plus you wanted to keep things interesting and that box you had found earlier with his "filthy" belongings had some interesting costumes. You stood up, making Levi worried that you might leave only to see him cheer back up when he understood where you’re heading towards.

"You’ve got a lot of slutty outfits in there, huh?"

You take some dog ears and a tail out of it.

"Are they meant for me or for you?"

Leviathan grins at your pick, excited and eager. He reaches deeper into the box, knowing exactly the placement of each object. He could probably navigate in it even with a blindfold on. Not so shockingly, he pulls out a collar and a leash out of it.

"Whichever is fine ehe. I even got a leash to go with it so um, y'know. We can use it right away i-if you want."

Clearly, although he had said that whichever was fine, his eyes were telling another story. Anyone could’ve seen that what he truly wanted was to wear it and get ordered around by you. Not like it was hard for you to do so might as well. You gently put the ears on him.

"Try barking?"

"Woof!♡"

"Cute. You’re the dog then."

His smile widens, happy that you picked the role for him and chose the one he wanted. It takes barely a minute for him to take his clothes off, now he’s only left with the costume and his boxers that clearly outline his cocks. You take a hold of the leash, pulling him as you walk back towards the seat where both of you were making out earlier. He follows you on his hands and knees, already nailing the role. You sit while he stays on the floor.

"Sit."

He sits.

"Look down."

He looks down.

"Paw?"

He puts his hand on yours.

"Good boyyy! So smart."

You scratch him under the chin as if he’s really just a pet.

"W-woofff…♡"

He brings his face to your legs, lovingly rubbing his head and cheek against them. Both of his dicks are already hard and leaking for you, even through the boxers it’s so apparent, it’s almost embarrassing how turned on he got from being treated like an animal. Not like he minds, if that gets you to mock him he’ll take it. Actually, he’ll take anything from you, be it praise or insults.

"Aww is baby all excited to play with me? You wanna feel good inside your owner?"

He nods against your thighs, helplessly craving your touch. Babying himself up to make you feel sorry for his poor state.

"...Alright. Stand up Levia-chan, I’ll suck you off and stroke you for a minute. If you manage to hold it in, I'll let both of them inside me."

He perks up. Had the ears and tail been real, his ears would have perked up as well and the tail would be wagging. He stands up, finally speaking like a human being. That is, if we ignore the drooling and the leash you’re still holding onto.

"N-No way?! Ha… ahhh… Sorry. I’ve gotta calm down. O-Okay. One minute. One minute, you can do this Leviathan."

He mutters to himself, psyching himself up while you’re pulling half down his boxers, taking his upper dick into your mouth and stroking the lower one through his boxers with your free hand, the one that’s not holding the leash.

He keeps his eyes tightly shut, probably realizing that if he opens them and sees your cute face sucking on his gross cock he’ll ejaculate immediately. He breathes heavily and repeats "IcandothisIcandothisoneminutejustoneminutegodplease". You retain your smile, but he’s just so cute. You count up to 60 in your head, it probably wasn’t super accurate but you’re proud of his restraint regardless.

Once you stop, he slowly calms himself down and starts breathing normally again.

"D-did I make it??"

"Yeah. Despite being such a slutty dog, good job hah."

He grins at your mocking tone, enjoying it. Then he opens his eyes, his gaze goes straight to your open legs. As soon as he had calmed down, he got excited again, seeing you ready to take him fully in. He comes closer, his hard cocks hovering over your slippery pussy and ass.

His eyes go a bit crazy for a second, as if he’s in a frenzy, or hypnotized.

"Ahh… Ahh… fuck. Fuck fuck. Really? I can put both of them in?"

You chuckle at how nervous and eager he is.

"Knock yourself out."

He starts to laugh softly, exhilarated.

"Hah. Haha… Oh my god. I’ve always dreamed of shoving my disgusting cocks into your cute and pretty pussy. I’m such a lucky fucking bastard."

He firmly grabs your waist, frankly you’ve never seen him being so sure of something. He slides them in slowly, both in each hole. You squirm and whimper under his unbreakable gaze on your whole being. Your holes gladly taking him in, your soft body, your cute facial expressions as you’re feeling better and better as he’s pushing himself in, he watches all of it so closely that it almost makes you shy.

"S-Stop staring so closely you dirty mutt."

"Y-Yeah. You’re right, I’m a dirty dog~ Please abuse me with your words some more…"

Geez, this guy has a problem… A problem that you find unbearably hot and cute.

He pounds into your holes, holding your legs up from the back of your knees, pushing them upwards, near your face. All the while you’re still holding onto the leash that is strapped on his collar.

"Come on. Please please please… I’m begging Y/N! Just a little bit."

He’s already enjoying himself so much inside you yet he wants even more, he sure is spoiled. But well, you want to see him go even crazier over you. So you do as he wants.

"You absolute gross fuck. You’re more of a pig than a dog you know? I’ve never seen anyone make such an elated face while fucking someone. You should just get over with it and serve me as a sextoy."

He submerges himself in your fake disgusted face, grinning as you’re completely disrespecting him as a human being, or, well, a demonic being. Then he happily glues his body against yours, his lips near your ears as he begs for more insulting words.

"More please, embarrass me more."

Your mind is already wandering off from getting fucked so good. It’s getting harder to think as both of his dicks are pleasuring your insides, making you pump out so much of your juices, more than you ever have. Yet you somehow manage to answer his needs.

"Y-You… You’re just a gross little fuck- A lame creepy otaku with two dicks who gets off on his crush’s insulting words. You s-sure are good at acting cute and pure while all you really are is a masochistic whore- Mmh!"

You can’t see his face but you can feel him smiling and drooling against your neck and shoulders. Suddenly, the air around him turns dark as he takes on his demon form. Completely lost in his lust and pleasure.

He sticks the tip of his scaly tail into your mouth, making you unable to degrade him any further and his pace quickens. He pounds into you harder and faster, his cocks getting ready to unload themselves into your pretty holes.

"A-And yet you’re so kind that you’re letting a lame, gross and disgusting fuck like me pump both of his dicks into you and you’re wholeheartedly sucking on his monstruous tail. Aaaaahh…~ You’re so nice Y/N, I’ll be your toy all you want! Iloveyousomuch.♡ Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou-"

Your mind completely goes blank thanks to all of your holes being filled by his dicks and tail, at this point, fucking him is like fucking 3 guys at the same time. And as you lose yourself, he does so as well. Emptying himself inside you, grinding on you over and over as he keeps cumming for a solid 20 to 30 seconds, you never even thought it was possible for someone to ejaculate for so long… Well he is a beast and a demon.

When he pulls out, his juices flow out of you for a while, maybe even longer than it took for him to cum since his loads have been mingled in with yours inside of you. He hurries over to his phone, taking pictures of you completely fucked out so he can use them later… Well, hopefully he won’t have to, since from now on you’ll always call for him when you need to use his dicks, right?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Done! As usual please don’t hesitate to leave comments or some tags (or messages in my askbox if you’re shy!) This is tumblr, I can assure you no one will make fun of you or judge you, we’re all chilling in our trash here 🫰

#obey me nightbringer #obey me!#obey me smut #om! leviathan #leviathan x reader #leviathan x y/n #leviathan x mc #leviathan smut #leviathan avatar of envy #hanaruri writes

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soapyghostie · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! i love reading you little stories about danny ‘jed olsen’ johnson!! I was hoping you could make a post about how he would look, like: many body scars, soft muscular body, or strong and tougher kind of body. Hope you understood what i was asking for, i tried to explain it the best i can! <3

You mean like general headcanons? I did a mixture of both his appearance and his personality if that’s okay. There is a link of a visual of what I think Danny looks like at the very bottom. Hope you enjoy!

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

This man has many scars all over his body from his victims trying to defend themselves, but failed. Where he has scars the most is definitely his legs and chest where victims have landed sharp objects deep past his suit, into his skin. I guess his leather suit can’t protect him all the time. He has a giant scar running right through his left eyebrow. Him being the cocky bastard he is, he loves to show it off to his coworkers and make up an insane story for it. The crazy thing is that they actually believe him.

His gaze can intimidate anyone. He has these stern yellow eyes that will make you shrink into your skin if he glares at you. However, when he gives someone puppy dog eyes, you can’t resist. There’s no way you can say no to those gorgeous yellow eyes. Additionally, I just wanted to say, his eyes make him look cat-like. 😂

Danny has a very lean body. He has to be strong so he can overpower his victims. However, he isn’t bulky because he also has to be fast and carrying a ton of muscle will slow him down. He definitely works out a lot. I’d say he runs 7-8 miles and hits the gym at least two hours everyday because, let me tell you, he is definitely shredded. (I’m sorry. This headcanon is definitely the runner coming out of me.)

Danny has short, but fluffy black hair. He makes sure to keep it silky soft so he can easily run his hands through it. Also, to wow the ladies; he knows women love a man with gorgeous, silky hair. Dingus.

Dude, this man is literally so silent. He can judge which floorboards creak, which doors squeal when opened, what shadows keep him hidden from sight. It’s insane. Literally a god.

I think we all have gotten a glimpse of how much of an asshole and narcissist he is. He’s extremely mischievous, confident, and thinks he’s the biggest lady-killer. Spoiler alert! He really isn’t no lady-killer: he can’t even get a lady for the life of him. His cheesy pick-up lines and flirting skills are full of crap. He better be glad he has his looks or he’d get himself slapped across the face.

Danny is a fantastic photographer. He makes sure that any photo he takes is on point. He’s a perfectionist. If he takes a photo, no matter if it’s for work or snapping photos of victims, it has to be perfect or he scratches it out of his camera roll.

He is a great writer as well. I don’t know why the Roseville Gazette would hire him if he wasn’t. 🤷‍♀️ Anyways, a fucking unit at punctuation. He uses semicolons way too much than he probably should, just like me, and he knows it too. Hey! If it looks good and sounds good then that is all that matters. He’s also a pretty fast typer and always proofreads his writing at least 4 times before turning it in for publishing. He tends to get all his work done before all his coworkers.

He keeps a journal where he writes important information about his victims: where they live, their daily routines, and stuff like that. He also sketches out what each and every one of his victims looks like next to his notes.

He’s pretty cold-hearted and has an obsession for fame and recognition. He wants everyone to know who he is and to fear him. He’s addicted to the fear frozen on his victims faces when he calls them and has dozens of pictures of his victims hidden in his nightstand drawer to use for his articles.

Even though he’s a phenomenal journalist, he doesn’t get paid that much so this man literally lives off of ramen. However, he loves himself a nice home cooked meal: anything that takes a long time to cook to be honest. He would cook if he wasn’t so bad at it.

He loves himself a good bargain; he loves the power they hold over someone. The moment someone breaks their side of the deal, he can break his and they’re over and done with if you know what I mean. 👀

He loves drama. He’ll listen to all the tea and no one will know he’s listening in either. He’ll start spreading it around to all the other coworkers. Now everyone knows the business. That’s why you never whisper shit while Danny is around because he’ll get a hold of that gossip one way or another.

Danny Johnson visual

Hey you guys! Just a quick note that I’ll get to your requests on Saturday. This was the easiest request in my inbox so I didn’t have to think about what I wanted to write as much as I have to with other requests. I’m just so exhausted from camp, but I wanted to post something new for you guys to read. I hope you enjoyed it.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #horror #dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #dbd killer #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader #danny jed olsen johnson #slasher #sophi ghostie writes #ghostface #the ghostface #ghostface x reader #dbd ghostface

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atopvisenyashill · 6 months ago

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I read through your Jonsa meta linked in your bio and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really love Jonsa but the part where you say J*nerys evidence is weak sauce like I do like the ship but I only want it if it doesn’t go like the show and it also isn’t just some boring king and queen of the seven kingdoms crap but do think what people call foreshadowing for the ship is no stronger than Jonsa foreshadowing but I get dog piled by other J*nerys shippers for admitting this. I do think some common evidence for Jonsa is questionable. Like that GRRM was originally going to have Janos be hung until someone ELSE pointed out that Jon would probably do it the northern way and behead him, or that lady Ashford didn’t end up with the Targaryen suitor. But even still I don’t think that the evidence for J*nerys is strong. Like sorry I don’t think Dany being called bride of fire implies she’ll marry Jon I think she already is the bride of fire. I used to hate Jonsa but I realized that I feel very neutral to it. What I hate is the thought of a love triangle with Jon, Dany, and Sansa. The idea of Dany going mad because she loves Jon but Jon loves Sansa is just so tired and boring and sexist. I understand that a lot of the spite towards J*nerys fans is earned because they can be just as spiteful but my first introductions to Jonsa were in the context of this love triangle and the attitude was so spiteful that it put a bad taste in my mouth for years. But even when I did hate it I felt like other J*nerys fans were being hypocritical when they made of Jonsas for their theories. And I got shat on and accused of being a Jonsa myself for saying so. Like it’s eyebrow raising that George revised his Stark family tree to include a marriage between a Jonnel and a Sansa. Regardless of what George originally wrote, Jon beheading Janos is compelling. I do see the vision even it’s not for me. Jon and Dany don’t know each other exist. I think the only thing that really gives J*nerys leverage is that they loved each other in the show and I’ve always had a hard time believing that George actually gave D&D like two plot points and turned them loose to do literally whatever they could come up with. If the show didn’t exist, you’d be hard pressed to convince me there was a viable chance J*nerys would happen and I really just hate the animosity between Jonsa and J*nerys shippers

I’m gonna take this point by point bc it’s kind of a lot and I want to address it all!!

do think what people call foreshadowing for the ship is no stronger than Jonsa foreshadowing but I get dog piled by other J*nerys shippers for admitting this.

LISTEN i’m glad you agree lmaoooo because my number one bitter hater issue re: the ship war IS that imo the “evidence” for both is kinda opaque, but only one is treated as being legitimate fan analysis. like, people will call sansa’s ghost wolf a reach but dany hearing the lonely wolf is full proof even tho this is the exact same thing. or the entire hullabaloo around how when you use the ashford tourney theory to be about Not Jonsa it's valid analysis but when it is about Jonsa then that's just pushing your ship. it’s the silliness of the argument that drives me crazy, that one take is considered “just starting a ship war” and one is the “proper” reading of the text. we don't know who is properly reading the text because we don't have the entire text yet!!!

I do think some common evidence for Jonsa is questionable. Like that GRRM was originally going to have Janos be hung until someone ELSE pointed out that Jon would probably do it the northern way and behead him, or that lady Ashford didn’t end up with the Targaryen suitor.

WAIT OKAY i'm not trying to convert you here lmao, merely explaining my reasoning for those because I know I talk about the Jason/Ashford thing a lot specifically so - the janos slynt thing for me is less the specificity that jon cuts his head off and more that sansa wishes for someone to kill janos for his hand in ned’s death and jon, without any knowledge of what janos did or how it affected sansa, sees straight to the sort of person janos is and executes him. more so about the idea that sansa is praying for a hero only for the hero to be the bastard brother she had dismissed, the only brother left to her now (or so she thinks). it's about the little ~invisible thread~ tying them together even when they're unaware of it.

as for the ashford tourney theory, i actually do agree that people put a little too much stock in the last targaryen suitor aspect of it BUT. EYE personally have been on that "it's hinting towards brienne" train literally since I heard it, and you can see that in the posts I've made about it, that I think it's about dunk/brienne interrupting the tourney to save sansa - it's just that part of saving sansa includes bringing her to her dark haired targaryen brother-cousin. especially bc imo valarr does feature heavily enough in the original dunk adventure, with his short scene after Baelor is killed, and how both valarr and jon have a lot of issues surrounding not measuring up to The Perfect Heir (baelor/robb), and being known for being kinda prickly, and the whole Doomed By The Narrative aspect of their characters, and this isn't something that valarr parallels with the other targaryen boy, aegon/young griff. BUT also I just think the whole convo surrounding this theory is annoying tbh alsdjf I think there are three concrete avenues it could go down (jon, aegon, or brienne, or some combo of the three even) and I find it. frustrating that this theory started out as a {redacted} theory that is clearly meant to push A Specific Ship And Reading Of The Text but if you apply the theory to literally anyone else, you get accused of doing just that. like are we not all just pushing A Specific Reading (aka OUR OWN READING) Of The Text here??

But even still I don’t think that the evidence for J*nerys is strong. Like sorry I don’t think Dany being called bride of fire implies she’ll marry Jon I think she already is the bride of fire. I used to hate Jonsa but I realized that I feel very neutral to it. What I hate is the thought of a love triangle with Jon, Dany, and Sansa. The idea of Dany going mad because she loves Jon but Jon loves Sansa is just so tired and boring and sexist.

NO YEAH. it's the same with the "blue rose" thing like.....the blue rose/bael the bard story isn't a happy one? "sweet smelling" is often used in this series as a mask for a deadly, poisonous center. I think "bride of fire" is a callback to catelyn's "wedded to his war" more than anything, that like you say, dany is already the bride of fire, she chose the fire when she burned mmd and walked into the pyre, and i kind of bristle at the idea that her being the bride of fire is tied to whatever man she's fucking. the point is that she is foregoing being the bride of a man for being the bride of fire to me!! and also VALID i don't like the love triangle angle, i don't like love triangles because i think they're usually so lopsided where you're clearly supposed to pick a specific leg of the triangle, and i just HATE the idea that either dany or sansa or jon's stories are heading to a love triangle because it's not particularly compelling to me that they're fighting over the same stupid boy (i can call him stupid, he's my son). especially as you say, the idea that dany might turn on jon because she wants his love and he won't give it - bleh. annoying, tired, been done a million times. this is why i'm also not overly fond of the idea of him being the one to kill her (but i like the idea of him taking the fall for it regardless).

I understand that a lot of the spite towards J*nerys fans is earned because they can be just as spiteful but my first introductions to Jonsa were in the context of this love triangle and the attitude was so spiteful that it put a bad taste in my mouth for years. But even when I did hate it I felt like other J*nerys fans were being hypocritical when they made of Jonsas for their theories. And I got shat on and accused of being a Jonsa myself for saying so. Like it’s eyebrow raising that George revised his Stark family tree to include a marriage between a Jonnel and a Sansa. Regardless of what George originally wrote, Jon beheading Janos is compelling. I do see the vision even it’s not for me. Jon and Dany don’t know each other exist.

i bolded that one line because YES EXACTLY it is very eyebrow raising that he revised the family tree to include that. like WHY. WHAT? imo, if there was a like a Jonos Targaryen who married a Daenerys Targaryen in the targ family tree, EVERYONE would be insisting that's Jonerys proof so I think it's funny when people brush over it. Or like, the fact that it's Jon and Sansa that dream of having children. The fact that it's only Jon and Sansa who are referred to as the blood of Winterfell. There's something here that's being hinted at, and it's compelling! I think I definitely do get being initially turned off because of the ship war - part of my initial, idk, aggressiveness towards dany on the reread was the DEADLY combo of YEARS of watching The ASOIAF{redacted but if you know u know] People dogpile jonsas and sansa stans constantly for literally just writing meta, making theories, like every other goddamn person + growing to just completely hate show!dany and emilia's acting specifically. then as i was rereading i was like oh actually book dany is not only vastly more interesting as a character than show dany's writing or acting could ever be, i also just don't have to let all the targ nation stans completely ruin a character i actually really like.

like this theory specifically by stumpy (which is another post that got dogpiled massively for no goddamn good reason by the asoiaf{redacted} people) about aegon being the sun's son and jon being the mummer's dragon set my brain on fire and made me realize so much of what i hated about dany's character was actually just the wank surrounding her. i'd completely resigned myself to the idea that jonerys was gonna happen for so long and i was so depressed ver it because i thought it was a stupid, shitty ending and i was just going to hate a large part of the ending forever and then i read that and i was like "oh actually maybe there's another option??" like who gives a shit, we're never getting the next books anyway alksjdfl. also FOR THE RECORD i also HATE the idea of a love triangle between those three, and i think i kinda break from a lot of jonsas (tho not all) in that i also don't like the idea of jon killing dany (again, i want it to be arya and for jon to take the fall. if jon is killing anyone, i like the idea of it being drogon much more than dany). like, i don't want any hetero targ fucking here. i think there could be something here in that both dany and jon feel they have to be attracted to each other but in reality are just Not Interested (for a variety of reasons) but i don't actually want them to do the deed at all and I've been firm on that since I was like, 16 lajsflkfd.

I think the only thing that really gives Jnerys leverage is that they loved each other in the show and I’ve always had a hard time believing that George actually gave D&D like two plot points and turned them loose to do literally whatever they could come up with. If the show didn’t exist, you’d be hard pressed to convince me there was a viable chance Jnerys would happen and I really just hate the animosity between Jonsa and J*nerys shippers

WAIT WAIT WAIT THIS IS WHERE SNOWSPEAR COMES IN. I can write more on that, I know i've mentioned it before, but I think that show!Dany got a lot, perhaps even most of Aegon's storyline in the books and that includes a relationship with Jon. I'm not saying they'll straight up fuck on page (george is alas too heterosexual for that) but I do think the vast majority of their story arc in season 7 where Jon is going back and forth with Dany and growing close to her while being wary of her is actually a relationship he'll have with Aegon. I think that makes much more sense thematically and also it doesn't piss me off lmao.

I think in general, they took his plot points and just kinda peppered it throughout the character's actions with no regard for whether it makes sense for that character. Or are just being straight up misleading about what it is they got from him - like their insistence that "hold the door" is from him, for example, I think in actuality here George told them that Hodor will be killed while Bran is warging him and purposefully leaving him behind, and they came up with that dumb ass hold the door -> hodor thing on their own. same for arya killing the night king - EYE think arya tries something against dany, but they gave it jon because they thought it would be more romantic (and they already combined dany and aegon) and went "well arya killing the night king would be sick as fuck, that's basically the same right?" like, i think there's something of what george wrote in there, i just think it's both confusingly folded in and also spread around a lot.

i think i even explained that to my sibling once (who doesn't read the series but does like some of the characters) that I think because they combined so many characters, that they wanted this friction between tyrion and jon, between sansa and dany, but had cut so many story lines and disregarded so many characters, that they just changed up the romance a bit (which we KNOW they do because look what they did to Jeyne W. and the entire Dornish plot).

anyways, yeah the tldr is that ship wars are stupid as shit and it's really hard to not become a hater when a large part of the fandom is constantly discounting your opinion because you ship a thing they don't like, and then claiming YOU are the one egging on the ship war when you are just existing in your goddamn corner. like i don't even use the vs tag half the time specifically because of that shit ya know. i'm not arguing whether my opinion is "right" or not with someone who thinks they're superior and smarter than me just because they think THEIR incest ship is valid but MY incest ship is gross and self projection.

#like first of all if i'm projecting onto a character it's clearly bran. no i don't want to fuck jon snow he's a baby child.#'but he's sixt-' HE'S A BABY CHILD. THAT'S AN INFANT. A LITTLE BOY.#asks #fandom wank #asoiaf wank #anons #ummmmmmmm #anti daenerys stans #idk man idk what everyone filters from me aljdsfks

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