#apologies for the disgusting mental image

[fenixseraph]

So apparently Gollum is voiced by Wayne Forester in the new LOTR: Gollum game. Seems like Heropon Riki went from Nopon breeding to Orc breeding.

[aesthetic-bbyg]

(Smut) Loser!Luke…

who thinks your just another camper. Just another girl, normal, albeit very pretty, but normal. You prance around camp with a kind smile, wave at those you know, even at him sometimes. Nothing that makes you too special that would distract Luke from his duties.

You’re just another camper.

Or so he thought, completely unaware of the truth. The innocent, pretty girl that resided in the Hermes cabin, yet to be claimed, had a dirty secret. He discovered it purely on accident, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. When he pushed the cabin door open that morning, discovering that you were missing from the daily head count, his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

There you were, shirtless, a tight pair of low jeans stretched out as you bent over to collect the obnoxiously bright orange camp shirt that you’d discarded earlier in the night. The sound of the door being open made you immediately stand up straight, turning around as you gasped and covered your chest. Feigning a wide eyed look once you noticed who it was standing in the doorframe. Allowing a faux embarrassed look to paint your feature as he stuttered out an apology and shut the door.

Though he couldn’t get it out of his head, the sight of the black ink etched carefully on your lower back. A tramp stamp decorating your skin, half of it hidden under the jeans you wore, he wanted to slap himself for being so disgusting. The fact that it was the first thing he noticed because he was gawking at your bent over ass.

He had to collect himself. Who was he, the leader of the Hermes cabin, if he was over here, a flustering mess and potentially growing an uncomfortable bulge in his pants over what? A tattoo? He’s seen some of the campers his age with them, it’s not like it was a new thing. Perhaps it was the placement of the ink, the fact it was only visible to him through an intimate moment. He swallowed thickly, brushing a way the thoughts when he heard the door click open, slowly watching as you stepped out.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in on you like that—“ The boy mentally slapped himself for babbling like an idiot, he definitely knew that his cheeks were embarrassingly pink.

“It’s totally okay, Luke.” You giggled, a smirk playing on your lips as you patted his shoulder, letting it slide down his arm slowly. You’re voice so soft and gentle, yet antagonizing. You began walking towards the others of the Hermes cabin, your eyes staying connected to his until you were fully turned away.

He just watched your figure as you disappeared into the crowd, swallowing back once more as he felt his mouth dry up. You seemed so slick, unlike the image of you he’d built in his mind. You were a sweetie, a pitifully innocent new girl that was just barley getting the grip on this whole camp life within the first month of your arrival. And yet, that smirk, and the shirt? Did you purposefully cut it up so that it was more cropped.

When he’d finally found the strength to step forward, cautiously, almost like he was learning to walk again, he found you within the crowd. The bottom of the shirt looked to be messily torn up, some parts uneven, so you did cut it up. It did it’s job of revealing your midriff, just enough so he got a glance at a gleaming stone that pierced your belly button.

Gods.

You really weren’t like anything he’d imagined, but it only made his pants even more uncomfortable. Luke couldn’t hold it any longer. Desperately, he was covering himself shamefully as he scurried back to Hermes cabin like a deer running away at the sound of a twig snapping. He needed to relieve himself before he thought of presenting himself to the others.

It was humiliating , Luke thought to himself. Having to jerk off because you. The stupid image of you shirtless, bent over. What if he was standing behind you while you were in that same position? Bent over a bed, maybe? Him just pounding you from the back as he got full view of that tramp stamp that stained your skin. It made Luke moan like a pathetic loser, which he was was, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating.

It was all part of your devious planning. To get him this vulnerable, it only took one move and it was like dominos falling perfectly atop of each other. Just a singular sight you shirtless and it had the poor boy bucking into his fist. You would’ve loved to have an image to the noises you were hearing as you pressed your ear up against the cabin door. But of course, as you twisted the doorknob, the same creak that unveiled Luke’s presence earlier that morning, ultimately revealed you entering the cabin.

Luke immediately sat up, wide eyed and hurrying to cover himself with a blanket or pillow. It was a faint sense of deja vu, now the roles reversed. You shut the door, smirking softly as you approached the bed. The boy looked up at you like a innocent little thing that could do no wrong.

“Need a hand?”

[lightningbreath]

A little more information about the HH leaks + a rant about some things in these leaks.

SPOILER ALERT

WARNING: MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SA AND SUICIDAL ATTEMPTS

Rosie owns Alastor's soul and sings a song about how Alastor is her pet and how he is in her zoo.

Vox looks like they will try to perform a '''''correctional grape'''' on Alastor to prove that Alastor is not asexual. (PROVEN FAKE) .

Vox tries to use the media to damage the Hotel's reputation. At some point, he manages to place several sinners (including some members of the Hotel) under mental control.

Husk and Angel apparently kiss in episode 6.

Apparently Lucifer dies (AMEM) in episode 8. Lute probably kills him, but it's pure speculation, all I found was an image with Lucifer on the floor. If this is true, and Viv resurrects Lucifer, then the chances of Adam and the dead Exorcites returning become very likely. And this will further undermine the understanding of how death works in Hazbin Hotel.

ABOUT EP 2, SEASSON 2

Sir Pentious is simply insufferable. During Emily's song introducing him to Heaven, Pentious tries to create and link A SHITTING DEATH WEAPON WITH A SMILE ON HEAVEN'S FACE, but Emily, Abel and Peter stop him and destroy the weapon.

Sir Pentious's sin was not having reported Jack the Ripper. Although I would say that inaction in these cases does not constitute a valid reason to be sent to Hell for christianity, after seeing how some Mouthwashing fans treat Curly, then it's not crazy to think that there are people who believe that would be a reason to go. to Hell. But it's interesting to see how Viv didn't have the ability to take a real sinner and try to redeem him, it seems like she thinks the only way to empathize is by posing a '''sin''' that isn't a sin, without a challenge moral, without a conversation about what is good and evil, without something that makes people REALLY think about whether redemption should be for everyone or if it should be limited, etc.

Ah, but Hazbin Hotel is a bold series that criticizes religion and says that situations are nuanced, a series without ''good guys vs bad guys'', a series that is not moralistic..... Of course it is. 🙄

Lute nearly has a panic attack after the Tribunal, this is where she starts hallucinating Adam, he basically validates all her thoughts and encourages her to do what she has planned (similar to how she is talking to herself). Here it is interesting to see how Sera, Emily or the ''Voice of God'' don't even care about Lute's emotional instability. Emily and the Voice of God are described as ''good'' and ''compassionate'', but they only know how to look at Lute with disgust instead of, I don't know, TRYING TO LISTEN TO HER BEFORE SIMPLY DISCARDING HER. To have the slightest empathy because Lute's WHOLE world is crumbling and falling apart and the only person with whom she identified is DEAD. It's also funny how quickly Sera simply discards Adam, Lute and the Exorcisms now that she sees that she was ''''wrong'''', simply using them as scapegoats, without worrying about the consequences this left on the exorcisms. itself. Yes, the Exorcisms were Adam's idea, but it was SERA who allowed them for who knows how long, Sera doesn't seem to have tried to control the Exorcists' murderous impulses, she simply left everything in Adam's hands and only showed up to demand and complain when something went wrong.

Abel seems at least somewhat affected by Adam's death, despite appearing to be a pacifist type, he seems somewhat willing to go to Hell out of resentment for Adam's death. He admits that he is not the best person to say what to do about the situation in Hell, as he himself is kind of interested in getting revenge for Adam's death, so this bombshell is in Sera's hands.

Lute goes to Adam's office and Abel follows her, he tries to connect with her by talking about Adam and apologizing for the way he acted in Court, but Lute doesn't want to listen to him and throws him out.

Lute's song begins (BANGER SONG), where she swears revenge on Charlie.

St. Peter continues to be useless and from now on, I will consider that he is just a random person with that name and that he IS NOT the real St. Peter.

Emily is spoiling Sir Pentious, and when she sees him crying for his minions and his "friends", Emily creates new minions (basically the same as the ones he had in Hell, but these ones have wings). She continues to spoil Pentious, who continues to try to create weapons (but the environment in Heaven seems to not allow weapons like Sir Pentious's to work). Sir Pentious spends the entire episode crying saying that he wants to go back to Hell and see his "friends".

Sera decides to put all of Heaven under protection while she thinks about what to do. Emily opens a portal saying she will warn Charlie about recent events.

The Exorcists continue to be dehumanized to the extreme and treated as simple '''walking weapons'' and as scapegoats, with Lute being THE ONLY ONE who has, at least, a face.

Lilith is apparently in the Garden of Eden, she was sitting enjoying the breeze and eating fruit. Then she sees something on the phone, gets up and leaves.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Feitan Portor NSFW Profile

Yandere! Feitan Portor x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of non/dub-con, stalking, masturbation, kidnapping, spit, drool, lots and lots of cum, Feitan is gross and icky and comes in your conditioner I'm so sorry, seriously this one is pretty gross I apologize now, bondage, ropes, blood, period sex, consumption of period blood, Stockholm Syndrome, a few mentions of reader having pubic hair, mentions of premature ejaculation, Feitan has intimacy issues, a touch of sadomasochism, dry humping, blindfolds, begging, edging, overstimulation, there's a lot going on, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

WC: 12K (oh my god)

HABITS:

Even amongst the Troupe, Feitan is particularly emotionally stunted. 

Of course, he knows about relationships, about the intimacy that ensues - he’s never personally fucked anyone, but he knows how it goes, what it’s like (at least, in theory), how it’s supposed to feel. He’s just never wanted to - his libido is actually quite low, and although he’s spent nights tossing and turning in bed, cock throbbing and aching for attention, he’s never felt the urge to find some random woman for a fun, stress relieving night. 

Sure, he’s jerked off more times than he can count, and he’s been to more strip clubs with Phinks and Uvogin than he’d care to admit. He’s been around it his whole life, even from a young age as a child in Meteor City - so yes, he knows about sex. 

He’s just never been able to tolerate someone long enough to consider sleeping with them, much less actively wanting to sleep with them. And yet, once you step into his life, Feitan finds himself uncomfortably aroused by the idea of letting his hands wander your body, of seeing the way your pretty face would scrunch up in pleasure, of hearing your little moans and yelps when he kisses you and sinks his teeth in just a bit too hard. 

Once his obsession with you forms and he begins moving past some of those initial mental barriers, Feitan finds himself beginning to crave you intimately, physically, sexually. And, just as the rest of his feelings for you, he hates it at first. 

He hates how just a simple thought of you has his body growing hot, the collar of his jacket uncomfortably tight as he shifts his weight, trying to ignore the way blood is steadily rushing south. 

He hates how just a simple look from you, with your eyes all innocent yet sultry, makes him gulp a bit, his fingers twitching at his side. He doesn’t like how he can’t control his body’s reaction to you, but it’s not like he can help it - it’s instinctual, primal, carnal, as if his body is recognizing that you’re the chosen one for him to fornicate with, as if you’re the only one worthy of his sexual attention.

Feitan doesn’t like this change in developments much, but quickly he finds himself at a crossroads; he can spend nearly every night staring at the black of his ceiling, laying in bed and glancing down at the massive tent in the sheets centered around his crotch, or he can give in and get working, letting his hand run along the length of his cock all with you on his mind.

 He doesn’t feel guilty about masturbating to you, per se, but there is this weird sense of embarrassment that sits heavy in his chest as he exhales shakily and spreads the bead of precum along his shaft. There is this weird feeling like he’s doing something bad, something naughty, as if you’d be disgusted if you were to ever find out.

It makes him feel strange, but he almost likes it - it’s a thrill he gets, particularly to the knowledge that you’d probably be disgusted to know he wrings himself dry (often more than once at a time) nearly every night, all with the mental image of you naked, writhing and stuffing your fingers into that warm, wet, oh so fucking tight cunt of yours. 

He’d never admit, but he’d give anything to be your fingers, to feel the sensation of being inside you, even if it was only for a few moments. (That’d probably be enough to make come the first time he fucks you, anyways.)

Once he gives in to getting off with you in mind, Feitan finds himself fucking his fist frequently, frantically, his hips thrusting into his hand faster and rougher the longer he goes on, the longer the image of you crying his name and clenching down around his cock plays behind his eyelids.

He wraps his hand around his girth and immediately starts violently pumping his fist up and down, until he’s eventually stuttering your name and coming, sending spurts of cum flying up onto his chest, the white staining his pale chest. It feels good, or at least good enough to satisfy him for the moment, up until he ends up palming himself through his pants the next night. 

It’s a never ending cycle, and frankly it leaves Feitan frustrated – it’s just not enough. The thought of you is more than enough, really, to functionally get him shooting ropes of cum out of his swollen, needy tip, but there’s this part of him buried deep inside that needs more, something to make him feel like it’s really you he’s touching and fucking. 

It’s not enough to be the one touching himself, when he knows it would feel different if it was your soft hand, your warm lips, your tight walls. He needs something more, something more intimate and personal and you in order to really get himself off, to really feel connected to you in the way he craves. 

And so, Feitan makes a discovery one evening that changes everything; he has a penchant for sneaking into your room after you’ve fallen asleep, the dismal security of your apartment something he’s simultaneously grateful and irritated with you for. He likes to just watch you sleeping, those dark eyes taking in every detail about your unconscious form, all exposed for his viewing pleasure without you even knowing it. 

He always shuffles closer the longer he watches, his feet taking just a tiny step every once in a while, just because he can smell you better when he’s closer, see more detail in your skin and features, and it’s only after he’s crept his way right up to your side that he notices it. He should be disgusted, he thinks, when he sees the bit of drool slipping past your lips, your slumber deep enough that you haven’t noticed the wet pool of it against your pillow. 

He should be grimacing and scooting away, revolted by something so gross, but instead Feitan finds his eyes getting caught on the way your lips are just slightly parted, the wetness against your chin shining ever so slightly in the pale moonlight. 

He doesn’t really know why he does it, but soon his fingers are reaching out, lightly brushing against your lip, a sharp inhale audible as he feels the warm wetness of your saliva against his fingertips. He’ll retract his hand, staring with narrowed eyes, before slowly, carefully bringing his fingers to his own mouth, slipping them past his lips, letting his eyes flutter closed because he’s tasting you. 

It’s euphoric, your spit sweet and leaving the perfect tang on his tongue, and suddenly Feitan’s reaching into his jacket pockets, frantically searching for the vial he keeps on hand, just in case he needs a bit of blood from a victim or enemy. He gulps when he finally pulls it out, wiping at it to rid it of any remaining blood, before carefully bringing the glass up to your face, positioning it right below your chin so that the next bit of drool to drip out of your mouth lands in the vial rather than on your pillow. 

It’s a slow process, filling it up, but Feitan’s committed, spending every night sitting beside your bed, watching you sleep and seeing the glass slowly fill with your drool, collected all for him. And when he finally has enough? Well, it’s easy to transition from slowly dipping his fingers in the vial and letting his tongue glide over them to letting the spit cover other areas of his body, even if the mere idea makes him scoff while a blush settles over the bridge of his nose. 

It’s not until one night, though, that he finally takes the plunge, crossing a line he can never recover from. He’d been particularly pent up, his cock absolutely swollen, aching and desperate for release, and his fist was just not enough. Even as he pounded away, biting his lip and furrowing his thin brows, the pleasure just wouldn’t come. 

His eyes wander from his ceiling down to his dresser, zeroing in on the glass vial sitting so innocently, so provocatively, practically taunting him to come closer. He’s snatching up the glass before he can really think, sitting back down and tearing the top off, his fingers moving faster than he can process. 

Soon, he’s dipping them in, swirling them a bit to make sure they’re really covered, but instead of bringing them to his lips, his hands travel south - gripping onto his cock, the wet coolness making him hiss through his teeth. He brings his wrist up, your saliva slowly smearing along his shaft, leaving it wet and twitching in the cold air of his bedroom, visibly throbbing as he runs his thumb over his slit, making sure to absolutely drench himself with your spit. 

His eyes slide shut, head rolled back slightly as he moves his hand at a steady, painfully slow pace, trying to calm his heart rate because this is so very different from before. It’s different, if only because it’s you - your saliva is letting his hand move smoother, your saliva coating his skin, you helping him to get off. It makes him feel dizzy, the familiar coil in his stomach appearing embarrassingly quickly as he speeds up his fist, images of you playing behind his eyes. 

He can’t help but imagine you on your knees before him, staring up at him with those pretty eyes, all wide and glassy and yearning, with your hands tied behind your back and your lips parted, pink tongue lolled out and waiting for him to fill that tight throat of yours. He grunts, squeezing at his tip, digging his fingers back through the vial to refresh the supply of your drool, and in his mind he’s slowly tracing your lips with the head, smearing his precum along your skin as you clench your thighs together and hum, practically begging him to facefuck you. 

Feitan hunches forward slightly as his wrist moves even faster, hand flying up and down his shaft, wet noises accompanying every jerk all caused by the excessive wetness he’s coated himself with, the feeling of your spit exactly what he’d be feeling if he was actually stuffing your little mouth, dark hairs tickling your cheeks and nose as he pushes your head all the way down, so that his tip is nestled down your throat. 

He lets out a guttural groan at that, a strained noise that makes him grimace, but he can’t help it - his orgasm is approaching, and he can’t help but listen to the wet squelching noises and imagine your gags and sharp breaths accompanying them, his toes curling. It feels so good, a building warmth in his naval that only grows bigger, stronger, more insistent, and all too soon he’s imagining the way you’d present your face to him when he pulls out and strokes himself over your face, cum spurting from his tip and landing in rivulets all along your cheeks, lips, nose, even getting into your hair.

You’d look so good, all messy and out of breath and covered in him him him, just as he is you. 

He bares his teeth as he feels himself right on the edge, his fingers clutching onto the vial so tightly he nearly shatters it, his cock bobbing and throbbing, balls clenching as he curls in on himself, small chants of your name mumbled under breath and then he’s coming, cum spraying everywhere as he gasps, hips bucking involuntarily into the air, chasing after his fist with every pump, aching to be releasing inside you, where it belongs. 

He takes a moment to come down from his high, chest heaving and eyes wide, staring down at the vial in his shaking hand, the weight of his orgasm shocking him. He’d never come so hard, like every muscle in his body was spasming, the pleasure nearly overwhelming. His eyes flick over to the clock, and he splutters, seeing the time. 

3:08, meaning only three minutes had passed since he’d snatched up the vial, feeling your spit against his skin, feeling you against the sensitive skin of his cock. 

His eyes close, his breath finally evening out, before he’s carefully setting the vial aside, recapping it and laying onto his back, trying to process why the hell he’d come so fast with something as grotesque as your spit to help him. He’s not sure, but then the images return of you on your knees for him, face still covered in his release and telling him that you want more, please Feitan, will you give me more? 

He groans as he feels his softening cock suddenly begin growing once more, his hips twitching as he reaches down to lightly grope at his balls, swallowing and deciding whether to dip his fingers into the vial yet again - he only has a limited supply, after all, and he’d be needing it again tomorrow night when he inevitably lets his mind wander to thoughts of you tied up and begging for him. 

He grumbles, a strained sort of sound, before getting to work once more, spitting into his hand and letting a small, barely there smile grace his lips, the slight flush still high on his cheeks. He’d have to get some more, he decided, because this? 

Well, fucking you was surely better, but Feitan would be a food to not capitalize on this new discovery - and when he’s painting his chest with ribbons of cum again a few minutes later, he decides that he’ll never go back to not having something of yours to aid him while he gets off. 

It’s just more intimate this way, better, like you’re really there - like you’re really naked and ready to fulfill every need, desire and fantasy of his. 

Like you want him. 

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your face

In general, Feitan thinks you’re attractive. He’s hesitant to say beautiful or pretty or really anything of the sort, if only because the way he feels for you is a bit more complicated than that. 

You’re not just pretty; you’re alluring, someone that always seems to catch his eye no matter how hard he tries to stop it. 

You’re not beautiful; objectively, there’s nothing about you that he hasn’t seen in hundreds of other women, whether it be your hair, your lips, your figure, or anything else. (Except maybe your eyes, or maybe your smile - things that are just so unapologetically you, things that Feitan thinks he could recognize with his eyes closed.) 

You’re nothing particularly special, physically speaking, and yet there’s something about you that he just can’t shake, some involuntarily thing that motivates him to always have his eyes on you, his body unconsciously facing you, his senses just so very aware of you. And because Feitan spends so much time simply watching you, he’s become extremely well antiquated with your features, with your pretty face that always seems to pull him in, like a moth to a flame. 

He’s memorized the way your lips curve, the soft skin puckering and moving with every word you say, and he often finds his gaze flicking down to watch while you talk, eyes sitting there idly as he lets his mind wander to what else you can do with those lips, what other shapes they can make. 

He’s studied every slope of your nose, the shape seeming to fit your face perfectly, and he even finds himself turning his lip when he sees models or celebrities with the same nasal structure - it doesn’t look nearly as good on them as it does you. 

And of course, your eyes - he’s spent more hours than he can count looking into them, unwilling to break the eye contact as he stares, fascinated with the color, how they shine in the light, how sunlight seems to make them glow, making you glow. 

So while there’s not any particular thing Feitan can say makes you attractive, you just are - enough so that he’s found himself seeing flashing images of your face late at night, when he’s unable to sleep and polishing his weapons, letting his mind wander and inevitably stumble into thoughts of you. He’ll relive the way you look when you smile - your grin is wide, teeth exposed, the pretty skin of your lips all stretched to accommodate your joy. 

You look good like that, and all too soon his innocent thought process of you is slipping into something sinister, something dirty and risqué, because now he’s imagining the way you’d smile up at him when he’s got you underneath him, your pretty little pleas and desperate begs for him to touch you making his skin tingle and his throat feel stuffy. 

He’s imagining the way you’d lick your lips when he tells you to get on your knees, his cock mere inches from your face as he strokes  himself, the eagerness and hunger in your eyes making him rush forward and bury himself down your throat in one go.

He’s imagining the way you’d look when he’s got you creaming on his cock, face pressed against the mattress and a mixture of tears and drool slipping down your chin, the pleasure just too much, even while your hips grind back on him, wanting more more more. 

He just likes your face, finding it oddly pleasing, and when the two of you are intimate, he finds himself eagerly searching out your facial expressions as often as possible - it’s the way he knows what you like, if you’re enjoying what he’s doing to you, if he’s doing a good job. 

So really, exaggerate the expressions, make it clear exactly what you’re feeling, and Feitan will be over the fucking moon - pounding into you with a new vigor, a sudden resolve to get you coming at least twice before he’s done with you. You’re just too attractive for him to resist, and he’s only a man, after all. 

His hands 

In general, Feitan is a fan of showing his feelings rather than articulating them, and even then only to an extent. 

There’s only so far he’s willing to expose his vulnerability, and it just becomes easier and less scary to just show you, to let his actions speak louder. And despite it taking a very, very long time for him to grow comfortable enough to actually act on this philosophy, one of the first ways that he’ll settle into touching you is with his hands. 

They’re rough, the skin calloused and scarred, pale fingers just the slightest bit off in certain spots, evidence of the multitudes of times he’s broken them. His fingers are lithe, nimble, quick and dexterous, evidence of his abilities with swords and the various tools he uses for work. And so, once he turns his hands onto you, you’ll notice all these things. 

It starts small - a fleeting feeling of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, merely a ghost of a touch that leaves you wondering if you really felt anything at all. 

He’ll reach out to flick at your forehead if you do something dumb (something endearing, but dumb), glaring at you and telling you to stop it, though his fingers are tingling where they made contact with your skin. 

He’ll lightly lay his hand on your hip, or on your thigh, keeping it there for a few moments before snatching it back to his own side, his hand flexing and the muscles tightening up because god, did you like that? Did you like it when he touched you? 

He gets in his head way too much about how you react to his touch, but the truth is that Feitan is incredibly touch starved, particularly when it comes to any sort of positive or romantic touch. 

He’s a criminal and has grown up in horrible conditions, and he’s simply never cared. But now that you’re here, someone for him to live out all those cliche, stupid romantic tropes? Well, he can’t directly ask for your affection, but you’ll notice the way his hands lay on your body for just a beat too long, just enough to make you wonder whether that touch was really as innocent as he seems to think it was (it’s not, at least not as much as he wishes - every time his skin brushes yours, this spark of electricity dances up his spine, making him gulp and tense up, because while the feeling blooming in his chest is warm and good, it’s still foreign, still something he hasn’t quite gotten used to yet).

And even once he reaches the stage where he’s grown comfortable enough with the concept of being intimate with you to actually touch you, he still relies heavily on his hands. Particularly, Feitan grows an affinity for fingering you - he loves the way your cunt just seems to suck his fingers in, as if your body is begging for more and more of him, craving his touch and the pleasure only he can give you. 

He’ll experiment a lot with you at first, curling his fingers or scissoring them, dark eyes appraising your face and checking for any changes in expression that could hint at what rhythm or area you like. 

(You’ll wonder where he learned some of the motions he tries out on you - he’ll never admit to watching porn to learn some ideas, nor that he practiced them before trying them out on you, his hand sandwiched between two pillows as he diligently curled them, perfecting the ‘come hither’ motion or letting his thumb practice rubbing tight, firm circles against the cotton. No, he’d rather die than have you learn that - you can’t know how badly he wants to please you, after all.) 

He likes to watch his fingers dipping inside you, the way they emerge all wet and glistening, a ring of white sitting right above his knuckles and filling him with pride. 

(Often, he finds himself idly staring at his fingers after you’ve fallen asleep, your body sore and exhausted after the fucking he’d put you through. He’ll spread them, staring from all angles, remembering the feeling of your wet heat around them, how your walls clamped down on him, even how your lips and tongue flicked across them when he’d shoved them into your mouth earlier. He’ll bring them to his lips, idly sucking on them, trying in vain to get every last drop of you off of them, so that he can taste you for just a moment longer, just to satisfy himself for as long as he can.) 

He’s a late bloomer and it will take him a long while to reach the point of being willing to touch you sexually (though he wants to from pretty much the get-go, much to his embarrassment), but once he does, you’d better get used to the feeling of his hands against your skin - after all, he’s insistent, and you do not want to reject his touch. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just moan and sigh and tell him it feels good, because Feitan is just so much more agreeable when he’s happy - you’ll get to come that way, too.

DRIVE:

Generally speaking, Feitan’s libido has never been especially high. Sex has never been a priority for him, and even once his days as a Troupe member begin, this doesn’t change. He doesn’t see the attraction to sleeping around, to fucking random women just for a few minutes of fleeting pleasure. 

It’s just so much work to be around others, to have to communicate and hear their complaining when he doesn’t put effort into making them feel good – it’s just not fun, not something he wants to spend his time with. And so, while Feitan is certainly no saint, he doesn’t actively seek out sexual partners. And he especially doesn’t seek out touching another person, letting himself be touched, becoming vulnerable in any possible way.

So, once you step into his life, this self-inflicted celibacy doesn’t really change all that much. Of course, the idea of touching you is significantly more attractive than it would be to touch a random stranger, but Feitan is still not especially eager to fuck you once his obsession develops. 

He’s a bit of a late bloomer, taking a while to let his emotions warm up to you. In doing so, it takes a long, long time for his sexual urges towards you to appear, because Feitan prides himself on having good self control. But once he fully gives in to the fact that he wants you, in a way that’s entirely new and scary and foreign to him, the urges begin appearing. 

The idly thoughts wondering what you’re wearing, what you’re thinking about, if you’re in the mood… He’s still not as horny as some of his fellow Troupe members, but Feitan begins regularly imagining fucking you, the thoughts seemingly popping out of nowhere and completely unannounced. 

Frankly, it’s irritating; why is he imagining you without a shirt on when Phinks is telling him about the latest job Chrollo had paired them up for? (It’s a pain in the ass to hide the slowly growing tent in his trousers from the blond - he always just seems to know, and Feitan would rather die than be subjected to the never ended teasing.) 

Why is he imagining the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock when he’s slicing off that man’s head, the cut clean and clear yet the only thing he can think of being how your cheeks would hollow as you suck? 

It’s annoying, and although he tries to fight it at first, he eventually gives up. There’s only so much he can stop himself from imagining, and as his obsession grows deeper, the perverse fantasies he holds towards you only grow more numerous, more pronounced, more longed for. He finds himself actively wanting to be intimate with you, and while he won’t act on that desire for a very long time, it’s left to quality sit, festering and brewing inside him until one day it’s all just too much, a dam bursting that forces him to finally take that last step, to let himself rest a hand on you or brush his lips against your cheek or graze his finger along your nipple. 

He doesn’t move very fast, but Feitan’s in no rush - after all, you’re stuck with him for the rest of your life, and he’ll be the only other human you’ll ever interact with. By the time he’s ready to progress your relationship forward, you’ll likely have come around, desperate enough for human contact that you’ll want him to touch you, that you’ll want to touch him back. 

Just the thought makes him gulp and flex his fingers, excitement and anxiety settling into his stomach, his cock growing half hard even as his mind winces. 

However, because he has so many issues surrounding intimacy and vulnerability, Feitan will likely never actually force you into anything. 

Because you’re likely to come around and develop Stockholm Syndrome by the time he’s ready to touch you, you’ll be more than eager to let his hand rest on your waist, or to let him stand behind you so that your ass is pressed against his crotch, the tent in his pants more than apparent. You’ll be ready, but until he’s ready, he has to find alternatives. 

Because he’s still frequently experiencing sexual urges towards you way before he’s willing to act on them, Feitan finds himself quite sexually frustrated. He has all these dirty thoughts, all these possessive, insistent feelings urging him to just take you, to stake his claim on you by stuffing you full of his cock and cum, and he has to release them somehow. 

And so, he falls back on a method that he isn’t necessarily proud of, but does find some sick, twisted sense of pride and amusement from. That is, because he’s the one supplying literally everything to you once you’re trapped under his roof, it’s not so hard to tamper with some of the ingredients of your essentials. 

Your conditioner, for instance; he buys you the brand you love (something he tells you is coincidence but most certainly isn’t), and as he opens the cap and smells it one day while you’re asleep in the next room over, he can’t help but notice how creamy it is, how thick and how white it is.

It make shim gulp, and after quickly making sure to lock the bedroom door you’re trapped behind, Feitan shakily returns to the bathroom, exhaling deeply. It’s just a coincidence that the conditioner resembles something that he produces, right? 

It’s an amusing twist of fate that your favorite conditioner (with the scent he can only describe as you) looks almost exactly like his cum, right? 

Feitan thinks so, and as his mind wanders back to the little stunt you’d pulled earlier in the day, he finds himself settling onto the closed toilet lid, reaching into his pants and pulling out his cock, already drooling precum and sensitive to the touch. 

You’d been laying on your bed, blanket barely covering your body as you slept, the skimpy pajamas you’d fallen asleep in in disarray on your figure. Your shirt had bunched up, letting one pert, supple breast slip out, your nipple on display, not even the blanket managing to cover it up. 

(He’d froze when he noticed, slowly creeping closer, licking his lips and unable to stop staring.) 

And those damn sleeping shorts, always getting moved around and never quite sitting right on your hips when you wake up, were twisted a bit, the holes for your legs angled just right so that if he looked the right way, he could see the very edge of your cunt, one lip covered with pretty pubic hairs, looking soft and warm and so fuckable. 

You were asleep, and somewhere in Feitan’s mind he knows you weren’t doing it on purpose, but it’s hard not to blame you for being so indecent, for hoping to tempt Feitan into giving in. You’re such a fucking minx, all teasing and daring to show off your assets, and how was Feitan supposed to react to this? How was he not supposed to immediately grow aroused and flustered, unable to tare his gaze from your vulnerable body?  

Eventually he’d managed to, shutting the door behind him and taking a few uneven breaths, trying desperately to not replay the image of your breast over and over in his mind. It’s no use, however, and as he splashes his face with cold water in the bathroom, that’s when his eyes land on the conditioner bottle. 

His hand moves fast as he fucks his fist, hissing under his breath over and over as he steadily gets closer, driven forward by the idea of lewd it will be to have his cum in something as personal as you conditioner. 

He can’t stop thinking about how you’d have no idea, waltzing around with his cum soaked into your pretty hair, maybe even making you smell like him - He’s groaning, the thoughts pushing him closer and closer to the edge, his orgasm hurtling forward as he imagines the way you’d lather it in your hands, humming and making sure every square inch of your hair is covered in it, covered in him. 

He imagines the way you’d bring it up to your nose and deeply inhale, sighing because it’s your favorite scent, wondering why it smells a bit more musky than you remember, but not minding. Maybe you’d even like the new scent, and just the thought of that is enough to push him over the edge, a sharp growl slipping past his lips as he aims his cock right into the bottle, cum spraying all over the conditioner, the white colors matching perfectly. 

He’s breathing hard, a seemingly never ending series of spurts coming from his swollen tip, and once he thinks he’s done, he grasping his length and lightly shaking it, lodging any loose bits of cum out, coaxing them to join the pile. Once done, he’ll gulp, letting a small smirk slip onto his lips as he closes the bottle, shutting the lid tight and shake the bottle, making sure to thoroughly mix it. 

He won’t tell you about his little ‘gift’, of course not - but you’ll know something is up when he’s standing stiff as you exit the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body and wet hair having been marinating in the special mixture he made for you, and when he’s eagerly sniffing your head every chance he gets after that, you’ll have to realize something is amiss. 

When he’s asking you if your hair feels particularly soft, you’ll have to know he’s trying to get at something, some layer underneath the surface that he’s really speaking about. 

It’s enough to satisfy him for the time being, his possessiveness over you quelling ever so slightly because even though it’s not in your cunt, where it belongs, at least he’s got his cum somewhere on you - and until he’s ready to fuck you properly, that’ll have to do. It’ll become habit, and one day you may even stumble upon him midway through the process, your conditioner bottle an inch or so from his tip as he frantically tugs and pulls. 

(He’ll freeze, unable to process that he got caught, and frankly, he’ll just try to ignore that you ever saw it, not willing to broach the topic - and you won’t be either, because what the fuck?)He just really, really desires you, and Feitan is a resourceful man - so I hope you like the smell of musk and a bit of iron, because you’ll be smelling like it for weeks.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Orgasm Control

In general, Feitan has to be in control in the bedroom. It’s not that he’s particularly onto any dominant or submissive roles between the sheets, but more because he doesn’t like the feeling of vulnerability that accompanies letting other people pleasure him. Something about being at the mercy of someone else’s touch or whims makes him nervous, an unpleasant feeling blooming in his stomach that leaves him fidgety and jumpy. 

And so, every sexual interaction with you will see him starring as the dominant role, always calling the shots, and nothing exemplifies this sentiment quite like the way he treats your orgasms. Despite not having a huge amount of sexual experience prior to his infatuation with you, he’s very obviously aware that both partners are capable of orgasming in any given sexual interaction, that it should be expected and achieved regardless of methodology. 

With other women, Feitan wouldn’t care in the least – he’s selfish by nature, and if he were to ever have sex with anyone other than you, in no way, shape or form would he pay any mind to their pleasure, only chasing after his own release. 

But with you, this sentiment is a bit different; he wants to get you off, if only because seeing the way your body responds to him, shaking and shivering and moaning and clenching, gets him harder, his breath more ragged, his palms sweatier. There’s something incredibly pleasing about seeing the way your body is sensitive to his every touch that makes him giddy, an odd mixture of power, arousal and eagerness filling him. 

He wants to make you a mess, to get you gushing and creaming and whimpering as he fingers you, as he shoves his cock inside you, even as he tongues at your clit (eating you out isn’t something that happens often, but when it does, Feitan expects you to come from it). He likes the sight of you falling apart for him, and consequently, that desperation for power and control comes hurtling back – so that he is the one in control of your orgasms. 

He wants to be the one choosing when, how, and why you’re coming, every one of your movements a result of him. 

He tends to rely heavily on edging you, enjoying the way you squirm and beg for him to keep going. He’ll have two slender, nimble fingers buried inside of you, curling and scissoring, the stretch a bit painful but in a pleasure-tinged way, making your toes curl and your bottom lip catch between your teeth. 

His thumb will rub consistent, steady circles at your clit, the little nub sore and swollen, and he’ll keep his ministrations up until you’re breathing heavier, your stomach and thighs clenching, the telltale signs that you’re nearing your high. 

(He’s very, very good at reading your body when it comes to your sexual pleasure – he’s spent so long stalking you that he’s seen you touching yourself more times than he can count, and while watching the way your cunt takes the toy is very, very difficult to tear his eyes away from, he’d made sure to study every other part of your body, too. He’s watched the way your face morphs as you get closer, your brows shooting up and your lips parting a bit, your eyes fluttering and threatening to close as the pleasurable knot in your gut grows tighter and tighter and tighter. He’s watched the way your legs shake, the muscles in your thighs visibly twitching and clenching, trying desperately to close and clench together, prompting him to imagine how they’d feel around his head, around his waist, around his cock. He’s even noticed your breathing, how you sound, the way your voice gets higher and more breathy, your moans increasing in intensity until you let out this sudden, strained gasp that gets him swallowing harshly, a thick pearl of precum dripping from his tip from the mere sound.)

He’s constantly observing you even while he's intimate with you, those dark eyes never wavering from your form, and he’ll bring you right to the edge, noticing with a tightness in his throat that your legs are starting to tremble, that your voice is climbing up, that you’re starting to get all gaspy and your abdominal muscles are clenching, and god, you’re squeezing around his fingers so damn tight – 

The confused, desperate whine you let out when he suddenly pulls his fingers out of you makes him smirk a bit, the way your watery eyes blearily blink up at him, half clouded in lust and disappointment making him reach out to pinch at your pebbled nipple. Not yet, one more time. He’ll tell you, laughing a bit as you whine and gulp, chest heaving and your fingers twitching. He’ll make you wait, maybe even reaching down and jerking himself off a bit, making a show of hissing under his breath and making sure that you can see him, hearing the wet noises as he flicks his wrist and imagines it’s your sweet little pussy wrapped around him rather than his own fingers.

He’s embarrassingly sensitive when he does this, his own touch making him buck his hips as he stares down at you, spread before him, underneath him, where you belong. He’ll make sure to give enough time that you come down from your sensitivity, before resuming his ministrations, making you gasp and bite your lip. 

He’ll keep doing this over and over and over, denying you of your orgasm some five or so times before he finally, finally decides that you’ve behaved well enough, that you deserve to feel good. (Often, what finally gets him to cave in is the fact that he too is very close, and while it’s cliché and stupid and a bit pathetic, he really likes it when you both come at the same time, your orgasms matching up so he can feel like you’re doing it together.) 

He’ll work you through it, not stopping his motions, which brings up another aspect of how Feitan likes to tease you and assert his control over you – he doesn’t like overstimulation quite as much as denial, but he’s not shy about going faster, harder, his motions seeming almost frantic as you start whining and shaking, going on about how it’s too much, Feitan it’s too much I can’t! 

He’ll just growl and shut you down, slapping (not too hard) your clit and seeing you way you jerk, telling you to shut up and take it, you’ve done it before. He likes seeing your eyes get all teary, your body spasming and shaking even harder, the overstimulation making you cry out his name with a renewed fervor. 

(He’d never admit it, but that’s one of his favorite parts – he never pegged himself to be a fan of loud moans, but there’s something about the way that you do it, when it’s his name you’re moaning, that makes him throb, his cock twitching without any stimulation. You sound so destroyed, so wrecked and utterly desperate for him that it makes his head spin, his chest filling with pride and lust and satisfaction because you do need him, and your body is just proving that.) 

He’s cruel, often pulling three or four orgasms from you every time he touches you, those dark eyes staring unblinking down at you, almost studying you as you fall apart on his cock, on his fingers, on anything he chooses. It makes him feel good to know that he’s in full control, that he can choose when you come – it shows his place above you, helping him to justify the fact that he’s pleasuring you, that he’s taking the time and effort to make you feel good when he really doesn’t need to. 

He’s just being generous – you should be grateful he even cares about your pleasure at all. 

(Say thank you to him as you orgasm and he’s gone – cum is dripping down your skin or out of your pretty hole before you can process what’s even happening, the man above you gasping and heaving, trying desperately to make sure you don’t see the slight red staining his cheeks.) 

He wants you to follow his commands, so just let him do as he pleases – you’ll come eventually, most of the time.

Bondage

Tying into his preferences for holding control in the bedroom, Feitan has a certain affinity for seeing you restrained. 

There’s something about the way your body is presented to him when you’re all tied up that gets him feeling hot, his hands twitching and yearning to reach out and touch you. He’s not picky about what he uses to bind you – the tried and true rope is never displeasing, and the variety of pretty knots and positions he can force you into this way leave him nearly drooling at all the different sexual fantasies he can carry out with you. 

He’s particularly fond of tying you up in ways that are just the slightest bit humiliating, positions that make your neck and cheeks feel hot, embarrassment eating away at you because god, everything is exposed. 

He likes when your legs are spread, a bit of rope keeping your calves firmly pressed to your thighs while your pussy is exposed to open air, the perfect amount of space between your legs for him to slip into. He likes when your breasts are free, jiggling and bouncing with every thrust, the rope digging into your sternum or ribcage as you moan and writhe. 

(He also likes when the rope crisscrosses over your chest, digging into your nipple and making you whine in pain and pleasure, and when he undoes the ropes, he loves the way your nipples are so sore and swollen, a much darker color than they normally are and practically begging to be pinched at, to be twisted and pulled on until you’re a sniffly, moaning mess.) 

He’ll often tie your wrists together behind your back, rope connecting from your waist to the back of your knees, keeping your legs bent while he forces your ass into the air, mounting you from behind and absolutely destroying you. 

Rope is his favorite, if only because there’s something so familiar, so comforting in using it – of course, he never desires to fuck any of his victims, but he knows how to manipulate the material in order to get you bent the way he wants you to be. 

And while he has no desire to do anything to you that he would to those he tortures, there’s something oddly sexy and taboo about the fact that he’s using the same kind of rope on you as he did to the man the other day. It’s dirty, sinful, if only because this is as close as he can come to mixing two of the things he loves most – you, and his job. 

You’re safe this way, not liable to be cut or maimed or anything of the sort, but you’re still utterly at his hands, vulnerable to every whim or desire he wishes to enact on you. He likes how helpless you are when you’re tied up, unable to reach out or take control of your own pleasure, entirely reliant on him to do everything for you – something as big as stretching you out on his cock, or as small as pushing away a stray piece of hair in your face as he fucks your throat. 

The power trip is insane, and while he won’t hurt you, just the knowledge that he could makes him harder than he’s ever been. He’s a fan of other alternatives to rope, too – handcuffs are fine, a bit too mainstream for him to use regularly, but in a bind it’ll do. 

(Especially if he’s grown more comfortable with you, willing to show a more vulnerable side, because handcuffs give him less control and allow you to actively participate in your pleasure, letting you grind back against him or wrap your legs around his waist or any number of other things that can signal that you want him too.) 

Silk ties are fine, and on days where he’s feeling a bit more sentimental or emotional, he’ll prefer to use these because there’s less chance of you bruising or getting any burns or rashes. (Plus, there’s something so fitting about you being shrouded in silk – you, who’s so weak and soft and dainty, matching perfectly with the fabric. It makes him snort a bit, because you always look like such an angel when you’re all tied up for him in this way – like a beautiful, naïve little angel just begging to be destroyed and tainted by his hands, a feat he’s more eager and impatient to accomplish than he’d care to admit.) 

He’s even willing to use clothing to get you restricted – maybe the shirt you’d been wearing (his shirt, one he let you borrow, the one he finds adorable on you even if he’d never tell you) will get tied around your wrists, keeping them firmly above your chest as he sinks into you and squeezes his eyes shut, biting back the moan that threatens to tumble at his lips because you’re just so damn tight. 

He’ll use your panties as a gag, though he doesn’t do this often because he really does like hearing your sounds – especially when they’re any sort of praise or his name. 

(Often, after he’s stuffed the panties you’d been wearing past your lips, he’ll steal them back afterwards, sneakily storing them somewhere for later, for late at night when he’s standing over your sleeping form and breathing shakily, staring at you and rubbing the material – wet with both your spit and your slick – all over his cock.) 

His preference is always to have you restrained in some manner, and it’ll only be once he feels as comfortable as possible with you that he won’t tie you up. To have you free means letting himself be vulnerable to your touches, and even your rejection of his touch, and just the thought is enough to get him nervous, having to wipe his slightly sweaty hands onto his jacket. 

He’s had fantasies about fucking you without any restraints separating you before, but the moment it happens, you’ll notice that he’s oddly sensitive, his breath coming out harsher and more labored at touches that would normally leave him largely unaffected. It’s just so emotional for him, so scary and frightening, and he’ll stay inside you much longer than normal after he’s come, relishing in the warmth and wetness of you while your fingers maybe brush over his shoulders, maybe even running through his hair. It’s the sort of fantasy he’ll never, ever tell you about, though – and for now, he’ll stick with tying you up so that you’re easily accessible, provoking and arousing to stare at, and in no position to argue when he manhandles you into doing exactly what he wants.

Dry humping

While he has sexual, lewd thoughts about you from pretty much the moment he truly accepts his feelings for you, Feitan takes a very long time to begin acting on those feelings. 

Even more, it takes him a long time to get comfortable enough to be naked in front of you, much less actually fuck you. And so, while this hesitancy persists, he finds himself using other routes to sate his growing desire to be intimate with you – routes that are less invasive, less opportune for embarrassing accidents (like coming too fast, or facing your rejection). 

And while it still feels awfully pathetic, Feitan finds that the simple act of grinding on you is enough to satisfy his desires, at least for the time being – there’s just something oddly enticing about it, something arousing and the pleasure just dull enough to thwart him from coming within three or four minutes of touching you. 

He doesn’t like initiating it, though, finding it a bit too pathetic, even for him, even for the way he feels for you. Instead, he holds his breath, hoping that every time you brush against him (normally by accident, your whole body freezing up the moment you realize what you’ve done) that you’ll do it again, because even just a single bit of friction between your (fully clothed) bodies is enough to get his neck feeling warm, the ghost of an erection springing to life in his pants. 

He’s just so, so touch starved, and so as time goes on, he’ll start subtly trying to get into positions where you might accidentally grind on him, sometimes without you even realizing. He’ll make you pick something up off the ground, then choose the exact moment that you’re bent over and your ass is in the air to walk behind you, letting his hips just barely graze against you.

He’ll manage to hold back the little strained noise he makes, but at some point you’ll notice that it’s happening much too often to be a coincidence, and you’ll eventually realize that the strange hardness you feel when he does this is actually him. 

He won’t ever just grab you and rut into you, but god does he want to, especially when he sees your hips swaying, or when you’re sitting down, the fat of your thighs splayed out and your hips looking wide and full and perfect to grab onto. 

He’s embarrassed by his own thoughts, but eventually you’ll probably realize what it is that he wants – you’ve felt the way he tries to subtly make it happen, and while you were at first confused and shocked (you’d had no idea Feitan wanted anything sexual with you, as he’d never made a mention of it or acted in a way that would suggest it), you eventually start getting a bit brave, too. 

You don’t love Feitan, far from it, but you’ve been trapped with him for enough months to start craving any form of human contact, and so you’ll pounce – Feitan can’t help but sharply inhale when you grind back against him one day while you’re bent over, the feeling of your ass moving against his cock making him struggle to breath. 

He’s not sure what you’re trying to do, too pessimistic to let himself believe that you’re the one grinding on him, but one day you’ll find yourself sitting next to him on the raggedy old couch, the TV playing some mindless horror movie that Feitan had thrown on, and your hand will just sort of move on its own, slowly, carefully placing itself very lightly over his thigh. He’ll tense up at the sensation, dark eyes flicking between your hand and your face, your own gaze nervously set on the TV in front of you. 

It’s silent for a moment, but when he doesn’t move your hand, you’ll get braver, turning to look at him and asking in a soft, unsure voice if you can sit in his lap. Feitan doesn’t know how to respond, simply staring at you with narrowed eyes, wondering if this is some sort of trick – but eventually he’ll nod, telling you to be careful, don’t try anything. 

You’ll position yourself so that your ass is pressed against his crotch, his thighs on either side of your hips, but you don’t lean back, even when you hear Feitan inhale slightly, having leaned forward to smell your hair. It’s a good twenty or so minutes later when you begin moving your hips slowly, nervously, listening to hear for any displeased noises or harsh commands for you to stop your movements. 

Feitan is frozen behind you, staring at your hips and trying to understand what you’re doing – he likes it, but he doesn’t like the way his body is reacting, blood slowly starting to head south at the slight friction, at the way you’re so damn close to him, at the way he can smell you and can feel the heat radiating off your body. 

It’s all too much, and suddenly he’s telling you to get off me, before quickly storming out of the room and locking himself in his bedroom. 

His cock is in his hand within minutes, memories of how you’d felt against him, even with layers of clothes separating you still fresh in his mind. You’ll be left to believe he didn’t like it, that you’d totally misinterpreted his actions, ashamed and a bit afraid for how he’d respond moving forward. 

Except, there’s no grand punishment, no mocking you for your actions – instead, the next night he turns on a new movie (still horror, gory and full of screaming and killing) and looks over at you expectantly. 

His legs are spread this time, leaving a space between them, and for a moment you’re confused, unsure of what he wants. He just raises a brow at you, unwilling to articulate what he’s wanting, hoping you’ll understand it without him needing to say it. 

You’ll shuffle closer, still staring at him, but soon he’ll just grumble, a hand reaching out and pulling you down to sit between his legs before you can even realize what’s happening. You’re stiff and unsure, unwilling to relax, and Feitan doesn’t like this. He wants you to move like you did last night, and after a few minutes of you sitting stone still, he’ll hiss into your ear do it again. 

You’ll start slow, testing the waters, and you nearly jump when you feel Feitan’s hand ghost over your waist, setting his fingers against your shirt as if wanting to fully touch you, but not quite letting himself. He’ll occasionally tell you to go faster, the movie still playing in the background, the feeling of his cock digging into your tailbone making you a confusing mix of scared and aroused. 

Eventually, he’ll let out this strange, unusual little sound, something like a grunt but much higher and strained, and you’ll feel something warm and wet pressing against you. Don’t mention anything, because Feitan doesn’t want you to say a damn word, not wanting to admit that the feeling of you grinding on him for roughly seven minutes has him coming in his pants, cum covering his cock and getting him all sticky. 

He’s embarrassed, but it will become something of a ritual between the two of you – every time he turns on a movie, it’s your place to sit in his lap (eventually you actually will sit in his lap, fully on his lap, not just pressed against him, though this takes some time) and to gyrate your hips at that certain rhythm he likes, all up until you feel him tense up beneath you, seeing his fingers clutching at the couch cushions at your sides. 

It’s a slow buildup into any sort of sexual activity between the two of you, but Feitan likes this, something about the intimacy making him extra sensitive, the feeling of you actually touching him (even peripherally, with clothes separating the two of you) making him feel lightheaded and airy. He likes it, and this will be the jumping off point for him to begin getting bolder, to begin letting himself actually fuck you, to finally do what he’s been craving for months. 

And once you become aware that he likes it, please start imitating it – give him look and ask if you can um, sit in your lap? 

He’ll almost always say yes, even if he’s in the middle of doing something, even if there’s not even a chair or couch nearby – he'll rush (not running, but very, very nearly) to the nearest surface, swallowing hard and staring at you, growing impatient when you don’t move fast enough for him. 

Often, he’ll already be half hard, and while he prefers when your back is facing him, if you were to climb into his lap so that you were straddling him? Well, Feitan finds it much harder to look you in the eye, because now it’s your cunt grinding down on him rather than just your ass, and that’s much different, isn’t it? 

Even once he’s progressed to stage of actually being willing to touch you, of being willing to let you touch him, Feitan still enjoys when you hump at him. And he particularly enjoys humping you, though he’s only willing to do this in the dead of night, when you’re fast asleep, your body ripe and vulnerable for him to touch, to explore, to use. 

He doesn’t want you to be awake and see the way he crumbles when he drags his cock along the curve of your ass, if only because he doesn’t want you to see how pink his cheeks get, how he starts mumbling under his breath, how his every muscle is flexing and straining because he wants to go faster, needs to go faster, but he can’t risk waking you up. 

It’s his dirty little secret, so you’d better start working on your stamina for grinding onto him – sure, he doesn’t last long, but he expects it often, and you can’t exactly refuse him. 

Or else.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Begging

Feitan likes knowing that you want him. He feels so inferior and weak for having developed such strong, scarily dependent feelings for you, and it makes him feel good, satisfied, justified when you beg for him, all whiny and desperate for his touch, for his body, for his cock. 

While he’s not particularly vocal between the sheets, he likes when you are - your voice is sultry when it gets all airy and gaspy, your little praises and pleas for him to go faster or please don’t stop making him double down and go harder, his desperation to please you driving him forward. 

He won’t ever explicitly ask you to beg for anything, but you’ll be able to tell that he likes it. 

You’ll see the way his eyes widen just a hair, the way his dark bangs settle over his forehead as he dips his head down, the exertion of moving his hips or wrist faster making him squeeze his eyes shut. 

You’ll feel the way his thrusts get more insistent, hips slapping against yours while his balls clap against your ass, the sound lewd and only getting faster the more you beg. 

You’ll be able to hear it in the way his breathing starts getting ragged, no amount of stamina adequate for hearing you beg for him, for him to touch you and pleasure you. 

He wants to feel needed in the context of your sexual pleasure, as if you can’t get off without his help, as if you’re incapable of bringing yourself to orgasm when he so easily manages it. It’s unrealistic and he knows it, but he’s able to immerse himself in the fantasy of you wanting him when you’re begging him, able to delude himself into believing, if only for a bit, that you’re just as frantic for his love and affection as he is yours. 

If you really want to get him going, a surefire way to have his cock springing to life and his heart lurching into his throat is to praise him a bit, then following it up with a plea for him to keep going. Tell him that it’s s’good, you feel so good Feitan, please don’t stop, just like that, fuck! 

Tell him that you belong to him, that you’re his, that your cunt is his cunt, that you want him to come inside, that you need more more more. He might tell you that you’re greedy, grunting out something about you being a greedy slut, but the twitching of his cock inside you and the way his fingers tighten their hold on you will show you that he isn’t as unaffected by your words as he’d like to pretend. 

He really just likes knowing that sex affects you just as much as it affects him, so please, please beg him - he’ll almost always do exactly what you want, almost like it’s a reward.

(After all, just getting to touch you is reward enough for him.)

Sensory deprivation

Because it takes Feitan so long to grow comfortable with letting himself be truly vulnerable with you (especially in the context of sex), he finds ways to get around this mental roadblock, so that he can experience everything he wants to without giving up any of his control. 

And one of his favorite ways to do that is to limit your senses - specifically, Feitan loves to blindfold you. He doesn’t really want you to be looking at him during sex, too nervous and awkward and embarrassed, because once he gets inside you, his control over his facial expressions, his bodily responses, his everything is severely limited. 

It takes all his will power to stop himself from coming prematurely, especially towards the beginning of his sexual relationship with you, and he’ll be damned if he lets you see the way his face crumples when he slips inside your wet heat, his dark brows drawing together and lips parting, eyes squeezing shut while he wills himself to calm down, to take deep breaths and not let himself get carried away. 

He doesn’t want you to be able to look at him, but he wants to be able to see you - he wants full viewing pleasure of your body, and while this method does block seeing your eyes get all glassy and pleasured, it’s better this way. 

This way, he gets to stare at the way your tits bounce as he fucks you, the soft fat jiggling and practically begging to be groped and squeezed at. 

This way, he can stare at your ass he pounds into it, grabbing a handful of cheek in each hand and kneading the fat, spreading them apart and taking a peek at your pert, cute little asshole, seeing the curve and arch of your back. 

He can let himself relax more this way, allowing his face to present every emotions and sensation he’s feeling, and he can let himself indulge in some of his more embarrassing urges - like reaching out to cup your hips when your bodies are facing each other, his fingers never quite brushing your skin but awfully close. 

He’ll lean in close as if to kiss you, letting his breath fan over your lips but never actually closing the distance, just indulging in the smell of you and the idea of kissing you. He’s still very reserved, but this way he can do all the things he fantasizes about when he’s alone at night, his mind wandering to you and his body growing cold and lonely. 

Plus, Feitan gains a certain amount of control this way - he gets to choose what happens to you, and because you can’t see anything, you’ll have no idea what’s coming next. 

Will it be his hands, a vibrator, his cock? 

You won’t know, and Feitan likes it that way - he wants to keep you guessing, to leave you unsure and awaiting his next move with baited breath. 

He just likes how dependent you are when he’s got the black blindfold tied around your eyes, so you’d better get used to it - he’s not good at compromising, after all. 

BIGGEST FANTASY:

While Feitan doesn’t harbor any desire to hurt you, there’s a certain allure that blood holds for him. 

Of course, he doesn’t want to actually draw blood from you (the thought of you being in pain because of him makes any boner of his die immediately), but he discovers - by accident - that there’s a solution to mixing the two. 

There’s a way to combine the two things that turn him on most - you, of course, and the slightest bit of blood - in a way that is safe for you yet still arousing, still enough to get him panting and his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight. 

That is, Feitan discovers that he absolutely loves getting intimate with you while you’re on your period. It doesn’t matter if you get horrible cramps, mood swings, or are even totally unaffected - you’re sensitive, body needy and practically begging to be mounted and fucked, and who is Feitan to deny you?

Once he grows comfortable with intimacy, you’ll never be able to pull him away from you once the blood shows up in your panties. He’s obsessive, tracking your period for you, making sure that he knows the exact days that you’ll be starting and stopping. 

He likes the way you respond to his touch so easily, your pretty pussy all messy and red and puffy, even the slightest touch making you buck your hips and gasp his name. 

It��s euphoric, and when he slips inside you it becomes incredibly difficult to not immediately orgasm - you’re just so wet, so warm and wonderfully lubricated, and the sight of blood staining his cock when he pulls back to thrust back in makes his head spin. 

You’re perfect when you’re menstruating, and you’ll notice he’ll be in a much better mood once you shyly report that it started, could you pick up some more pads for me? (He toys with the idea of actually collecting your blood, investing in one of those menstrual cups that you can remove once it’s full, just because the concept of drinking it is enough to make him fidget, the thought taboo and dirty and so very enticing.) 

You can’t really say no to him normally, but you especially can’t deny him when it’s your time of the month - you will be getting fingered, fucked, even facefucked, if only because Feitan needs you, your pretty blood and pretty body making him go crazy in a way he didn’t think possible. 

You make him go crazy in ways he didn’t think possible.

“Feitan, I - we can’t, not tonight.” You tell him, averting your gaze away from his as his hands grab at the old t-shirt and short you’re wearing. Unconsciously, your hand travels to your stomach, laying idly and making Feitan’s eyes narrow. 

“Why not?” He asks, his voice clipped and suspicious. You didn’t often tell him no, and although there’s a bit of doubt swimming in his chest, he wants to know why you’re suddenly not welcoming his touch. You’ve reached the point of leaning into his cold, harsh hands, so why’re you suddenly being so standoffish? He doesn’t like it, and his hands stay idly resting on your shirt hem. 

You’re embarrassed, he can tell, but he doesn’t drop the issue. Instead, he lets the silence sit heavily over the two of you, waiting for you to fill in the space. 

“Well, um, you see…” You start, before squeezing your eyes shut and squeaking out, “My period started yesterday and it’s too messy.”

Feitan blinks at you, unsure what to say. Your period? You were bleeding?

“Okay, and?” 

Your eyes peel open, daring to sneak a glance at your captor, who only stares at you, unimpressed. “Well, I mean, it’s going to be messy and gross and it probably smells bad and -”

“Shut up, we’re doing it.” He cuts you off, hand yanking at your shirt to bring it over your head. You grimace, already nervous for him to take off your shorts, because although you’re sure he knows what a period is, you’re sure he’s never actually been around a woman menstruating. Or at least, not sexually. 

Actually, you’re pretty sure he’s never been with a woman sexually in any capacity. 

He’s yanking at your shorts next, pulling down the material even as you voice your protests, but one scowl from him has you shutting up, embarrassment pricking up your spine as he grabs your thighs and manually spreads them, the scratchy blanket covering the bed biting into your ass. 

He’s staring, dark eyes a bit wider than normal, and you feel yourself shrinking in on yourself, the embarrassment eating you alive. Why was he staring? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Feitan..?” You mumble, biting your lip and letting your arms cover your bloated stomach. He doesn’t respond, but you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, to the point where you think you might see bruises tomorrow. 

His eyes slowly, painstakingly, drag up from your exposed cunt to meet your face, and to your surprise you see the slightest dusting of a blush on his cheeks, as if he too was embarrassed. But before you can say anything, he’s rushing forward, lips pressing against yours in a messy, clumsy kiss, full of teeth knocking against teeth and too much spit. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him, but just as soon as he rushed in he’s pulling back, instead moving to bring his face level with your leaking hole. 

Feitan can’t stop staring - there’s blood everywhere, and while he’d normally be thrown into a state of panic at seeing so much of your own blood staining your skin, somehow this is different. Somehow the sight of it staining your pussy, the red color all along your inner thighs and part of your asscheek making his mouth water, his cock already painfully hard. It’s so pretty - red against your skin, your lips visibly swollen, your little clit engorged and peaking out. You look good, like something he wants to taste, and before he knows what’s happening he’s diving forward, tongue licking a long stripe up your slit. 

You taste like iron and musk and something oddly sweet, and immediately he’s diving in to taste more, tongue lapping at you like some dog in heat as he keeps his fingers firmly digging into your thighs. He can barely hear your sound of shock at his actions, too overwhelmed by your taste and your scent. 

“F-feitan, stop!” You manage to force out, eyes squeezed shut as your hips shake and stutter. “It’s too much, I’m too sensitive, I can’t!”

Feitan stops at that, pulling away from your body with blood smeared all over his lips, chin and nose, staring at you with a look in those wide, dark eyes that makes you shiver. He looks like an animal like this, something primal and carnal - and when your eyes peek down to see his cock - throbbing, bright red and stiff against his stomach - you can’t help but feel as if you’re some sort of prey caught in his jaws. 

“Not too much, you will survive.” Is all he says, before he’s resuming his actions, bringing a finger up to prod inside your walls while his tongue gets to work on your clit. His fingers curl and rub, but you’re so damn tight, your walls impossibly clenched, and it makes Feitan grunt against you. You’re even wetter inside than normal, the blood practically running down his hands in copious amounts, making it remarkably easy to slide his fingers in and out. Almost too easy, it would seem. 

You’re blabbering his name, the stimulation hurtling you towards your orgasm much quicker than normal, your heightened sensitivity and emotions turning you into a moaning, whimpering mess. And Feitan loves it - those dark eyes are peering up at you from over the crest of your pelvic bone, blood tinging his cheeks and visible to you. 

When he angles his fingers to press against the spongey, sensitive spot he knows you love, you suddenly gasp, a hand flying to tangle into his hair, the other gently pinching and rolling at your nipple. 

“Feitan, oh fuck Feitan ‘m gonna, I’m gonna come-!” You’re squealing, something that makes Feitan cock a brow, the pure desperation in your body as you squirm under his touch making him feral, his hips beginning to rut against the bed before he can even think about it. You just look so sexy like this, with your nipples swollen and sensitive, your cunt all warm and wet and sweet, and he’ll watch with wide eyes as you orgasm around him, your walls clenching down so hard that they force his fingers out, his tongue and the circles he’s drawing on your clit the only thing grounding you. Your back arches fully up off the bed, tits thrust out into the air, and Feitan bites back a groan as his own pleasure hits a peak, the blanket ruined as cum oozes from his tip and seeps into the fabric. 

You’re shaking, literally fucking shaking, and Feitan finds himself trembling too, his hands not as steady against your skin. If he’d known you would taste like this, how sensitive you’d be, how easy it is to get you orgasming while on your period, he would’ve done this long ago. 

You’re out of it, blinking up at the ceiling and heaving uneven breaths, but even as sensitive as he is from his last orgasm, Feitan is quickly shuffling to his knees, grabbing the base of his cock and sinking into you, face contorting into something between a grimace and a gasp. You’re so damn warm, and he groans lowly as he sees the way his cock has pink slick all over it when he pulls back, a mix of your blood, your slick and his cum decorating his length. 

Fucking you is heaven, the way you clutch at him and writhe, nearly screaming his name as you come on his cock, and Feitan can only grit his teeth and go harder, spurred on by the way your walls are caressing his length, massaging and gripping like a fucking vice. 

It feels good, and by the time he’s emptied himself inside you, he’s already made a mental note to mark down when your next period will be - just so he can get ready, so that he can get prepared. So that he can prepare you, too, because you won’t simply be allowed rest after the first night. 

God no, not if you’re like this the whole time.

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐎𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞… 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: maid!Blade??? x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex, spanking, cokworming, delaying orgasm.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

It just so happened that today is my birthday, so I decided to please both you and myself with a little yummy. I may have been on Tumblr not so long ago, but in fact I have been writing for quite a long time and it will never cease to bring me pleasure, so I'm incredibly happy that I can now share my creativity with others. This is the best gift I can imagine ( 〃▽〃) I hope my texts in english are at least a little closer to what I write in the original, and you don't experience discomfort while reading. Bon appetit!<3

— Everything is absolutely honest! We had an argument, or have you already forgotten? — you smile slyly, poking Blade's nose into his sad and bitter defeat.

He clears his throat, seemingly confused, looking at the menacingly red inscription «Defeat» on the screen of his smartphone.

— When did you learn to play so well?

— Ahem! — you're pouting. — How dare you, I always beat you. Well, almost…

— Did you play with the Silver Wolf?

Your lips open before you find something to say. His insight is so annoying sometimes.

— I-it doesn't matter! The main thing is that now you can start fulfilling my wish, as we agreed.

Blade sighs resignedly, throwing the phone on the table and crossing his arms over his chest.

— Just don't be silly.

— Hey! There was no such condition, I can wish anything I want.

Blade's lips pursed, his eyes closed, as he mentally cursed the minute he signed up for this stupid argument.

— Just don't even think about shirking your obligations anymore, justifying yourself by saying that your wounds haven't healed yet. I fell for it once, but it won't work twice! — you pout your lips and put your fists on your sides, giving your offended expression on your face a bit of severity. — So, I want to…

✧ ✧ ✧

— Where did you even get… this?

Blade discontentedly lifts up the hem of a long black dress along with a white apron, looking with disgust at the mesh tights hugging his legs while you are messing around from behind, helping him tighten the black satin bow on his back. You could have chosen anything as punishment, but he couldn't even think that you could ask for something so humiliating as to make him wear that ugly maid dress and tights that make him feel like a whore on call.

— I used to have to work part-time in a maid cafe, — your voice seems to darken from unpleasant memories. — I wanted to throw away this form, but I think I found a better use for it! — only Blade wanted to give you an understanding silence, but instead he lets out another exasperated sigh when you are overflowing with enthusiasm again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice how Blade lets go of the hem of the dress with displeasure, again hiding his legs from your field of view. In fact, all this time your gaze was riveted to the muscular calves covered with mesh fabric. It seemed to you that… Sexy?

— And now what? — Blade turns around, angrily crossing his arms over his chest and seemingly looking away in embarrassment. If someone else were in your place, this person could have lost his head the second he voiced this humiliating request. But it was you. In fact, he is too greedy for your puppy dog eyes, constantly begging him to commit absolutely senseless follies, to which for some reason he continues to agree.

— Hm-m, actually, I wanted to arrange a real photo shoot for you, so that after sharing this treasure with Kafka and the Wolf! — you're really testing his patience. — But…

You stumble over the words when the image of his sexy legs, perfectly covered with vulgar tights, pops up in your mind again. It's ridiculous even for you. Initially, your request was just a way to tease your amazingly patient lover once again, but now you are desperately trying to fight the heat that treacherously spreads through your body every time you look down, unconsciously continuing to touch his back even when the satin bow has long been tightly tightened, elegantly emphasizing the curve of Blade's waist in an already tight dress. You glance cautiously over his shoulder, noticing how the black fabric hugs his chest, threatening to tear to shreds as soon as he takes a deep breath. However, you've always wondered how his own raincoat holds that muscular chest with the help of two pathetic buttons trembling with tension, but you weren't completely sure if your old uniform could withstand such pressure.

— But? — a low velvety voice, permeated with impatience, pulls you out of your thoughts and seems to bring you out of a deep trance when you notice how your fingers are gently pressed into the fabric of a tight dress.

— Damn, — you sigh softly, sitting down fatally and clinging to the hem of a lush black skirt.

Blade warily turns his head in your direction, watching you straighten up again, pulling the black fabric up to his waist and exposing a humiliating picture hidden under a skirt that he would like to never see again.

— What are you doing? — he wants to turn around and finally put you in your place, hoping that this will accelerate the approach of the long-awaited moment when this stupid outfit will leave his body forever.

But he remains motionless.

As if paralyzed, he sharply exhales air from his lungs when he feels your palms slide up from his shins, lingering on his muscular thighs. Tiny fingers press into tense muscles and Blade feels even more confused and annoyed. You're groping his body so brazenly, making him feel vulnerable, as if he's being blatantly harassed right now.

— I never would have thought that this dress would suit you so well… I'm sorry, I can't help myself, — you say breathlessly, while your fingers continue to possessively squeeze, massage and stroke his thighs through the stretched threads of tights. The tips of your fingers playfully slip under the thin mesh to feel the warmth of his body even more and explore every soft scar covering his legs.

Blade is distraught. Although you have always been the one who clearly dominates him morally in your relationship, physically he has always taken over, controlling everything that happens within your bedroom, and sometimes outside it. And now you've made him numb from the symphony of opposites raging in his chest. He wanted to grab your cheeky wrists and turn around, pressing your body into the wall behind, he wanted to dig into your lips with a rough kiss and remind you that it's his hands that should master every curve of your body, but he also wanted you not to stop.

Blade's chest heaves, threatening to tear the fabric stretched to the limit, as a heavy sigh escapes from his throat. One of your palms abruptly switches to his groin, groping for a surprisingly firm erection. His cock twitches in your palm, and your lips stretch in a smug grin. Blade remains silent, but if you could see his face now, you would be able to capture in your memory the most delightful aggressively embarrassed expression. He is literally shaking from the fact that his body reacts so treacherously to what is happening.

— I feel that you had to like it, but it should have been a punishment, — you rise on your toes to reach his neck, pressing your lips into the throbbing curve, leaving a wet kiss on the skin heated with embarrassment before pulling away.

Blade was almost ready to whine at the way the warmth of your hand left his hard organ, but instead his jaws close and he growls, turning around to you just in time for you to kneel down, climbing under the hem of a full skirt and pulling tights over his legs. He would have almost staggered back if it weren't for the grip of your hands, now pressing into his tight thighs again. Blade's lips open, threatening to pour out on you all the discontent swirling on the tip of his tongue, but he immediately swallows any curse that pops up in his thoughts when the warmth of your mouth envelops his needy cock. You dig into him so greedily, squeezing the throbbing flesh with soft lips, swallowing him deeper and deeper with each new movement of your head, ignoring any vomiting. For some reason, right now, seeing Blade like this, a passionate desire has awakened in you to make him moan sweetly to the wet sounds of your lips sliding over his hard erection.

It's so hard for him to breathe. The thick fabric tightens his chest tightly whenever he holds back another velvet growl escaping from his throat. He's so damn mad at you for making him feel so insecure and pathetic, but your narrow throat squeezes so deliciously around his girth while you recklessly take him whole, desperate to please him, that your persistence even amuses Blade. Right now he just wanted to see your face under that irritatingly long skirt, blocking him from any view of what was happening under it.

— Damn… remember that you brought it to this.

The muscles of his chest are straining to the limit, tearing the fabric that was desperately held to the last, finally allowing him to breathe and move normally. Blade pulls down the hem of your skirt, grabbing you by the hair and forcing you to your feet. His eyes meet yours, blinking in discouragement in response to his fierce gaze, as if you are a little guilty kitten who was picked up by the scruff of the neck.

— It seems to me that this stupid outfit has misled you that you can have any control over me.

— Ho-oh, wasn't it like that when you got turned on just because I squeezed your thighs? — you finally regain your former confidence by fearlessly mocking him. — By the way, although I have never worn these clothes, it was not necessary to tear them! – you look with sadness at the fabric that has parted on his chest, sadly realizing the fact that next time you will not be able to get him to wear this dress again. But your disappointment did not settle in your heart for too long when your gaze fell on the heaving voluminous chest, strewn with scars, which did not cease to cause this sweet heat in the bottom of your stomach, no matter how many times you had not seen it before.

— Shut up. You're going to pay for the fact that I had to wear these disgusting things at all, — Blade literally spits out these words before turning you around to face the wall, still painfully winding your hair around his fist. The air is knocked out of your lungs as soon as your chest and cheek meet a hard surface, and you gasp at the unexpected change of roles.

Your underwear instantly descends to your ankles, and the miniature skirt lifts up, revealing to Blade a view of your ass, the flesh of which instantly turns red from the lashing blow of his heavy palm. You flinch, and a cry of pain bursts from your throat when his blows are repeated over and over again, while his other hand releases your hair just to tinker with the fluffy skirt of a ridiculous suit. You can only hear the rustling of the fabric and the light ringing sound from his earring, swaying with each new blow. Burning with irritation and animal excitement, scarlet eyes notice the shiny moisture flowing down your trembling thighs. You've always been so greedy for any manifestation of his absolute dominance over your body that it's even touching.

The unnerving fabric rolls down on his belt and his hips immediately move forward, forcing you to press into the wall even harder from the delicious feeling of stretching and fullness when his hard cock easily plunges into your insides. Any hint of disobedience leaves your thoughts as soon as his hips begin to whiplash against your ass, forcing you to jump from each painful blow of his penis entering you all the way.

— Next time you'll think twice before forcing me to do something equally humiliating, — hoarse moans come out of Blade's chest as his strong fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, holding you in place, tightly pressed against the wall.

You feel the knot at the bottom of your stomach trembling and tightening, bringing you closer to the edge of your pleasure. His cock tirelessly stretches your walls that are contracting around his girth, ruthlessly cutting into the cervix every time his hips move forward, making you feel a hellish mixture of pain and pleasure that drives you crazy. You can almost see the bright light blurring your eyes when his movements suddenly stop with the last deep thrust, leaving his throbbing cock in the depths of your walls spasming in the coming orgasm. The blood is wildly accelerating through the veins that wrap around this divine member, which cruelly stopped all movements, forcing you to feel pleasant pulsations that keep you on the edge of the abyss, but not allowing you to step forward.

— B-Blade, please!.. — you whine, sobbing softly and making pathetic attempts to move your hips, which are immediately stopped by his stone grip on your buttocks.

— What is it? — Blade's voice is laced with annoying complacency. — Are you uncomfortable? Do you want me to continue?

— Yes!

— Then I guess you'll have to ask properly.

His chest rises and falls with each heavy sigh. He can see tears of despair welling up in your eyes as you squirm and squirm in his grip, trying to regain at least a little stimulation.

— P-please…

— What? I didn't hear you.

His heavy palm meets your ass again, pulling a pitiful cry out of your throat. You sob, transparent beads of tears roll down your cheeks.

— What is it? Are you speechless already?

One more blow and then his free palm wraps around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze as Blade looms over you, gazing intently at the mixture of despair and pain painted on your face.

— Please, Blade, please! I want so much… I want to cum, please…

The moment of his silence, while he reveled in the way your voice cracked, breaking into sobs, lasted like an eternity.

— Good girl.

You didn't have time to realize that, it seems, Blade finally heard what he wanted, as his hips again set the same ruthless pace, crashing into you at breakneck speed. His earring swayed with a soft tinkle from each sharp push, merging with the sounds of his hoarse growl and your stifled moans of pleasure. Blade could feel your walls squeezing his cock tight again, resisting every violent movement tearing your insides apart. His movements became careless, the rhythm lost, turning into a blind pursuit of his own pleasure.

This sweet feeling overwhelms your body again and your nails are pressed into a hard wall in despair. You could feel his cock swell and shudder inside, and the hoarse growl breaks into quiet moans. With the last careless but hard and rough thrusts, Blade tightens his grip on your buttocks, immediately leaving bruises on your skin under the pads of his fingers before bursting out of your insides, leaving you to spasm around emptiness as an intense orgasm covers you. Your ass, red from blows, as well as the hem of the skirt crumpled on Blade's belt, are splashed with sticky hot streams of sperm. You go limp, kneeling on the floor, when he finally lets go of your throat and hips, catching his breath after his climax.

Both of you are breathing heavily, trying to come to your senses again. You lazily rest your palms against the wall, trying to get to your feet, and finally turn around to Blade. When you came up with such a humiliating punishment for him, you could not even think that you would ever see something as beautiful as what now appeared before your eyes. The sweat-damp strands of Blade's long bangs stuck to his forehead, misty fiery eyes stare at you from under heavy half-closed eyelids, his chest rises and falls in time with his ragged breathing, peeking out of a torn black fabric and a crumpled white apron that has slipped off one of his shoulders, and the skirt is still pulled up at the waist decorated with white spots, exposing to you a view of his semi-hard penis, slightly trembling in his palm, trembling legs and stretched mesh tights, concertina gathered at the level of his ankles. Now you are literally speechless, finding this sight so beautiful that it will forever be imprinted in the subcortex of your memory.

Blade sighs heavily before lazily sinking onto the sofa behind him.

— Now this disgusting costume is finally ruined, what a pity, — his lips slightly stretch in a barely noticeable smile.

His words seem to bring you out of deep hypnosis, bringing you to your senses again. You straighten up, shifting your gaze from his hips to his smug expression on his face.

— It's okay, I'll buy a new one for next time, especially for you!

Someday he'll just strangle you while you're sleeping soundly.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I'm sorry for the way I acted and spoke.

No ifs, and, or buts about it. Not gonna try to justify the way I acted.

I was aggressive and uncouth, and I know I definitely hurt people, if nothing else, by being aggressive.

I didn't mean to start a "witch hunt" on any of the blogs involved in the screenshot post, including @soapskneebrace , @groguspicklejar and @glossysoap .

But I know that I *am* guilty of causing a commotion and causing people to view those blogs in a bad light.

I deeply regret the fact I was aggressive, that I caused a commotion/"witch hunt" and that I basically "broadcasted" a bad image of these blogs to my followers (and anyone else who saw my account/posts on the dashboard).

That was wrong of me and I won't try to justify it for any reason. I was blinded by my hurt, but that doesn't make what I did any better, nor does it suddenly make me innocent.

This makes me a gigantic hypocrite, because I did not realize, in my anger/revolt, that I was guilty of doing to these blogs the same thing I was accusing them of doing to Myka.

I apologize if my actions caused anyone to go harass any of the three of you and, especially, the ones that have had to turn off their anon asks, because I assume you got some hate as well. I didn't intend to encourage anyone to speak to you in a disrespectful way, if that was the case.

I don't think any of the blogs involved are bad people. I don't think they're evil. I only wanted them to recognize a bad behavior. Their behavior doesn't suddenly make them bad people. They made a mistake. And I don't want any one of them to think I believe they're a bad person.

My actions came from a place of hurt, worry, and, especially, frustration, at the belief that someone (Myka) who was already not doing well mentally was shown so much disgust and hatred that they were driven to a point of harming themselves for it.

Not just that, but it also frightened me, very much so, to see people be so callous about someone taking their life. I felt like those blogs should take accountability because realistically their actions still hurt another human being. But that doesn't mean they/you deserve harassment or to be treated poorly.

I would also like to add that Gaz erasure *is* a real thing and I whole-heartedly agree that there are plenty of situations of that in the fandom. Have seen them myself and even Activision often excludes Gaz from their own materials. I don't support Gaz erasure in any way.

My hashtag was in poor taste and I know it can and likely will be taken out of context. I enjoy Gaz as a character, love him, and did not intend to ever make it seem like I ever believed Gaz erasure didn't exist. My hashtag, however, spreads a harmful narrative and viewpoint that I don't believe. That is not what I meant when I used it but it is what ended up happening, and for that I'm deeply ashamed.

All I was trying to do with the hashtag was call attention to the misinterpretation of the original post, because it was never meant to exclude Gaz in the first place. The hashtag wasn't meant to say Gaz erasure doesn't exist.

I understand how disgusting that tag is and how easily it can/will be misconstrued, as well as the fact it will give way for bad people to say bad/toxic things about Gaz as a character. I will be deleting the hashtag off all my posts and I appreciate wholeheartedly that you all called me out on my use of that hashtag. You were all correct, and my behavior was wrong.

That being said, I try to be an honest person. I'm not gonna delete any of the posts I made, nor any of the asks I've answered, much less the first post I made explaining my actions. I don't think it would be fair or right of me to delete them and wash my hands of them or act like it didn't happen. I want to be held accountable for this. It happened, I'm sorry, and I'm not going to delete them and hide.

Finally, you're free to call me gullible for believing sheheal when it comes to Myka's death, and I will embrace that, because I'd rather have stood by them and have it be proven to not be true/be a hoax, versus not have stood by them and have it be proven true and feel like I was complicit in it. I know it's selfish of me to want to ease my conscious or feel less guilt, but I don't want to be a cynic about someone's death or pain.

I hope you're all okay, this was not an easy situation to deal with, for anyone involved and I hope you all have support systems in place and ways of clearing your heads. I hope you're all healthy and safe.

All of you are welcome to reach out to me if you need to. We can discuss it more because none of us acted alone and I don't want any of you to feel alone.

[plethoraworldatlas]

Anthony Po's video is worse than you thought

This video actually looks at and breaks down Anthony Po's infamous video in deep detail and wow is it worse than JUST recording sexual activities without consent.

Starts with revealing that Anthony made a fake "furry identity" where his idea of what a furry is was a raging classist, sexist, ableist fatophobe who was very much a "annoying autistic" caricature from 2000s "humor".

He also decided it was a funny joke to make said fake furry influencer a registered sex offender and zoophile ("joking" about how he wasn't allowed near schools and making a whole TikTok where the "joke" was him stalking a man because he wanted to assault his dog)

Probably Used AI generated images for the "art" he had of his fake character

Bought an incredibly affordable for what it was pre-made fursuit and just spent the whole video talking trash on it and the maker and artist of it

Talked zero about any art or artists he "used". In fact, he didn't speak about the art side of furry Fandom AT ALL

The whole video is filled with 2000s Homophobia and not once does he mention the amount of LGBT+ furries or even says the word gay at all, despite the fact the entire goal of the video is violating the privacy of LGBT people and recording their sex acts for sensationalism.

He mentions once how a large part of the Fandom is neurodivergent, but in a way that sounds like "haha, the reason they're all cringe weirdos is because they're mental". Also dips into Homophobia and infantilizing neurodivergent LGBT people

He pretends to join a famous furry news site to get a con press pass, ghosts the news team after one email, uses their badge to get people to let him interview them, takes credit for a feelgood article he didn't write, generally disrespects the new site he took advantage of for their reputation

Speaking of, he interviewed people (again posing as a trusted journalist) but cut out nearly all the interviews about the Fandom because people weren't giving him what he wanted (he wanted to play a scare cord when someone said something sexual but no one did because obviously) so he skips by all of it except the parts he makes fun of for being neurodivergent people

He tries out for the dance competition, solely because he needs a B plot for his video and he thinks it will get him invited to "sex parties", doesn't practice at all, is shocked he doesn't make it, then crashes the competition anyway to utter silence of the crowd and doesn't even watch other dancers and just leaves the con after

Another thing is him constantly conflating "room parties" the sexual thing he treats like a big secret and is looking to film, and any kind of furry event or party whatsoever. So he treats all furry events like they're sex events in editing. Trying to make it seem like there's no divide between sfw and NSFW events

He flat out LIES about Con dealers den policy to make it seem like Kids are gonna see porn because THINK OF THE CHILDREN (LITERALLY AN UNIRONICALLY). Literally lies and says "8 year Olds can just go to the dealers den and buy porn" when in reality you need ID and a badge (which also requires ID) to get into, the dealer who's product they show off having obvious +18 markers on everything

Homophobia looking at obviously gay porn magazines

Passes out tacky "invite me to sex party" business cards, at the end of the video announces he's selling them (at ridiculous prices). Said sales of leftover cards would more than surpass the amount of money he donated to the Trevor project as an "apology". He also made the video a charity video to deflect blame, even though it has generated zero donations other than what he donated and not addressing the actual issues with the video

Asks to be part of Gay group chats planning the parties he is after and is Homophobic and surprised they are gay and talk about sex. Mock people's bodies and nudes and is disgusted by gay sexuality as a joke.

Jokes about how he's gonna be molested/forced by "older predators" when he actually goes to the parties for consensual sex. "Gays are predators/groomers and rapists" Homophobia abound

recording a room party without consent, using the footage to have an animated verison created for his video

Recording a room party with consent for personal private viewing, BUT NOT CONSENT TO BE USED IN A PUBLIC YOUTUBE VIDEO. This is the video he shows in the original video

Pretending to wrap the video up with a feel good message, despite literally everything he did being shit

[skrunklyskykid]

done with this fandom. probably going to delete my tumblr too. while i'm at it, the way you've treated arayla isnt right at ALL.

she is 12 for god's sake. give her the benefit of the fucking doubt man. she literally has autism??? she is getting shit on for her age (something she cannot control) and what, some bullshit allegations about transphobia? Give it a rest, guys. She ain't transphobic. I have known her for YEARS. this is turning into a psa so dont harass anyone yadayada

this is the 'transphobic comment' in question.

here's some actual context to the image:

one even agreed.

not to mention how byte/lyte literally made a 'joke' about FUCKING HER. Are you braindead??

THIS MF IS 17. GET OUT not to mention how shitty the mods were to her. she joined back to let people know she got hacked.

@/jayflys00 (also the one who has just sent the dm) had a lovely conversation with @/blveblvrr.

I want to make it clear however that Jay was only the middle man in THIS situation. He wasn't given full information on this either. This fandom sure loves to gatekeep shit! oh! and a lovely comment from byte/lyte on a deleted psa from @/shedemonandrea666

so heres some proof that arayla isnt lying about that. disgusting. the announcement on her went a little something like this:

@/unknown-role did not want to make this public whatsoever, but due to this individual spreading out to other members i want to make this for the sake of other's safety and boundaries if this may have made anyone uncomfortable. that is not the purpose of this server.

i apologize in behalf of anyone who may have received any message from the user **@ goofy_mcgee69420 / araylark69 **as she were kicked due to being underage of discord's TOS and transphobic comments screenshots i've received that i do not take likely whatsoever. **this is a safe space for trans and the queer community, any sort of discrimination or taken light of misgendering / deadnaming people is not acceptable. **

please for anyone who may have received a message to not harass or threaten her whatsoever. i do not tolerate that type of behavior despite how immature she may be from this unfortunate situation. please take care of yourself everyone and please if you are underage, leave and return when you are of age. if you do not like anything queer / LGBTQIA+ relations this is not the space for you. thank you. :tsb: 🍔 how on the fucking earth is she DANGEROUS???? brother what the fuck also lookie here:

he didnt even appear. shes not a liar. this guy is 21 fyi T-T and of course, to add to the shittiness of the fandom, he ofc had to send her this lovely message too

how delightful. and, obviously, they just HAD to have a convo with someone else behind the scenes about her.

so thanks very much @/bluesbox, she really LOVED reading this :D oh, and btw? this is the 'annc' that theyre on about.

https://www.tumblr.com/blveblvrr/757724130134097920/hey-yall-its-ur-favorite-yapper-jeremy-here?source=share and then here's her convo with jeremy.

so, can we please stop throwing this at her too? her and jeremy are really good friends now. character development is real. https://www.tumblr.com/blveblvrr/759827128268341248/update-on-the-arayla-thing?source=share plus this shit is nearly 3 months OLD MANNNN LET GOOOO ;-; yall are ridiculous. can people please, please PLEASE leave her alone. this is beyond a fucking joke now. this entire fandom is absolutely ridiculous, and needs to grow the fuck up. i am sick of seeing my friend being torn apart mentally by you morons. she has so much going on and none of you have ANY IDEA. leave her alone. leave ME alone. and last but not least sort out your cesspit of a fandom. there are literal minors with nsfw roles in las gayass as well as an anti british cult. disgusting shit. What's more ironic is that they have other 12 year olds in the server, like @/weeatcement and 'RAMEN AIRFRESHNER'. Hypocrites, am i right? get your asses in gear. this young, and very much talented girl is LITERALLY SHOWING HER INSTABILITY and you are CALLING HER OUT FOR IT???? ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND????? YOU FUCKERS COULD DRIVE HER TO SUICIDE. i'm not talking to everyone here. but a few of you really REALLY need to open your fucking eyes. to those who see how fucked up these people are, please reblog and spread the word. this is an absolute joke.

[thechibilitwick]

going on a tangent about stupid little milgram details that are probably unimportant or wrong yippee

one detail i like is how side character lack features or are different from the focus character, and what it actually means in each MV. The reasoning can vary from character to character, but the general idea is that it's supposed to emphasize their role in the character's eyes and also changes the level of humanness(?) they have. (idk it's hard to phrase)

two really good examples of this are muu and kazui's MVs.

in After Pain, the only other character besides muu who has a full set of facial features is her classmate rei. Every other character is seen without eyes, which let's the audience understand how muu believed her actions were perceived without actually making the background characters feel 'human' or 'real'. Rei having no alterations also implies the importance of her to muu, and also might be muu trying to tell the audience "hey look, with the way she looked and was acting, i had no other choice right?" (muu enjoyers apologies if i'm reading into this wrong i'm not too invested into her character i just really like after pain)

then we move on to INMF, where her previously eyeless classmates have now turned into bug people, while rei remains unchanged. Her classmates being subordinate bugs while she's the queen represent how she views them as 'below' her. Her classmates also do appear as they looked in AP, but here their appearance seems more to represent how their importance to muu kinda boils down to social image and validation (or smth like that). Rei is still rei, and we see her looking on at muu and her group with disgust, we see her dead again, and then at the end we see her decided to fight back. I need to get more into muu, cuz damn her relationship with rei really is interesting considering the fact that her appearance doesn't alter at all whatsoever. Like damn what was their relationship actually like?

in Half, there are only three side characters shown: hinako, the bartender, and the lady from the bar. And oddly enough, the only one with an actual face is the lady. Both hinako and the bartender lack facial features (mainly their eyes). Considering that half is more or less kazui lamenting on his mistakes that led to hinako's death, it'd make sense he'd want to kinda 'block out' anything related to the incident. Which if that's the case, it implies the bartender had enough significance for kazui to want to 'block out' (haha gay) while the lady didn't and thus she's just as is. (so it's kinda like the opposite of muu in a way?)

moving on to Cat, hinako has a face now! (and she's really cute!!) No one else does, though. This is most likely to emphasize how kazui's focus has now shifted from the sadness and grief of the entire ordeal to why and how everything came to be. Hinako herself is basically in the center of it all, being the victim to kazui's deceit, so it'd make sense that we'd get to see her emotions (tho it's from kazui's perspective). Hinako being happy throughout kazui's lying and only turning to shock and distress when kazui is honest is most likely just kazui trying to tell the audience that lying is the only way for him to live life without troubling others. Also mr. bartender makes an appearance again and still has no eyes, which probably implies that he's related to something that kazui still hasn't come to terms with yet (cough homosexuality cough cough)

but yeah that's my little rant, it'd be cool to go into a little more detail for this feature for everyone but idk if i have the mental capacity to at the moment lol

[ferahntics]

Hey guys, it's me my new account,

Today I will would like to apologize for mistake and hateful anything okay, here some story about Why send of Death Threat for not drawing dragon fire Kirby sleeping and not taking request,

Here some story

On June 2, 2023. I sent the Request dragon fire Kirby sleeping at inbox as anon to ferahntics.

Moment Hours later, Ferahntics didn't draw dragon fire Kirby sleeping and not taking request. Ferahntics said "I'm sorry anon, I will not taking request, if I do I will post on future"

Five Months Later On Nov 30, 2023. He was so angry for not drawing dragon fire Kirby and not taking request since five months ago, I used on phone and sent to death threat as anon,

Moments Later. Ferahntics is saw the death threat and hateful message for not drawing dragon fire Kirby sleeping and not taking request, and then ferahntics is posted said "What is Happening"

2 hours later. Ferahntics is Blocked me for sending death threat and Hateful Message.

And Later, I used on another account on Computer, I using Website and Pixlr E, then I Edit on profile picture, these are Photos like Michael de Santa from GTA V, and Unknown Hanging image, and I send to inbox and hateful message as anon,

And moment later Ferahntics is posted and said "To anons sending me death threats, and gore images and wishing I get killed or s'xually assaulted"

7 Hours Later Ferahntics are Posted and repost two times and then Hundreds of User are Blocking Me,

8 Hours Later on Dec 1, 2023.

I Tried to Apologize like a childish or Logan Paul like saint, or something? And I posted and tried to apologize three times,

5 hours later, Ferahntics has reposted said "I'd love to leave this post alone, but they had the guts to make another account and send me the most insincere, most childish, most ridiculous '''apologies''' that make Logan Paul look like a saint. New account is sleepinglovers293return so block that for ya'll safety too."

And then Hundred of User are Blocking me Again,

That's all of story.

Ferahntics must be proud and support

Thanks to all of support and I'm appreciated for Blocked by Hundred of User.

And I'm sorry for sending hateful message and death threat and g*re image.

I Promise I will not sending death threat, g*re image, and Hateful Message,

Hope you like some story

So I was gonna ignore this but this just pisses me off an unbelievable amount, so a lot of swearing incoming.

You sent me endless messages wishing I die, how you'll kill me, how you'll SA me, how you'll torture me all because I didn't want to draw your request because my requests were closed.

And you know what? If my requests would've been open, I PROBABLY would've done it! Cause I didn't think anything of it, I didn't know it was a fetish thing, I learned that later. And after all of this, absolutely won't do it.

And now you have the fucking audacity to spam me once again with the worst apologies with fucking gifs of Homer from Simpsons begging, still use the false identities as to apologize - as if that somehow undoes anything??

Do you think I'm just gonna ignore this and pretend like nothing happened and let bygones be bygones? After all of these disgusting messages about actual things that can impact people VERY badly and cause them spiral? Or go through a traumatic episode just because you got a little bit mad cause I didn't indulge in your fetish which I didn't even know about?

You wanna know what would be the best thing for you to do right now? Stop making new accounts, quit spamming me and anyone else, and take a long-ass pause and reevaluate yourself and how you go about it, because none of this should be thrown around so freely. I don't care 'its the internet, who cares' - because no matter how many times you say that, there will always be people who will get scarred very badly just because you can't handle your hissy fits.

And if there is anything I can do about it, I WILL make this shit known, because I'm lucky enough to not be mentally affected by your nonsense. Someone else, however, might take it extremely badly. That being said, I WILL mention all of your account names, because I REFUSE to let someone else have this shit spammed.

Until you can prove you've changed and matured, I will not accept any apologies - I don't owe it to you - and I WILL keep updating with your account names.

Sincerely, get the fuck off of my page.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Something to remember about Meghan is that she’s big into projecting and deflecting. A lot of the rumors we’ve heard about William, particularly regarding his temper and hotheadedness, don’t fully match up to what we see of him/his character in public…but does match up to what we know of Harry:,,,

Spot on, Rumortracking Anon, and I’ll go a step further, where you have not on your list (although I’m sure that you, as rumortracker extraordinaire, are already aware), and add some of the most egregious rumors floating around for years about Harry’s (not William’s) “red mist” anger, all ALLEGEDLY of course:

- that in the UK, H physically assaulted/beat up women to the point of bodily injury…one even allegedly to the point of permanent disability and to whom the BRF gave a massive $$$$ settlement

- that in Afghanistan, during his total 10 weeks of deployment playing video games and being protected by ghurkas (sp?), H again physically assaulted/beat up sex workers to the point of bodily injury, and that the military/BRF covered it up. (Maybe they “didn’t let him do anything” like Madame Soho House does, allegedly?)

- that in the US (both in Vegas and in San Francisco), H yet again physically assaulted/beat up women to the point of bodily injury and that, too, has been covered up.

Just an observation, but if any of this is even remotely true, H suffers from a poisonous Oedipal brew of Mummy love/Mummy hate that even Freud or Jung couldn’t disentangle, much less successfully treat. (First Mummy loved Willy best because he was her soulmate, and he looks like her, and then she had the nerve to die and leave H mummyless, thus making H sexually fantasize about her while applying her favorite Elizabeth Arden cream to his frozen (useless) todger, and then Meg came along smelling like Mummy’s fave perfume, and Meg let lil Harry “do anything he wants,” and then Mummy started speaking to Meg, and then Meg left a positive pregnancy test on the box of Mummy’s hair that sits enshrined next to the conjugal bed…). The alleged pathology boggles the mind.

(I don’t know if you want to post this…it’s raw…and all ALLEGEDLY, but if we’re going to discuss rumors about William’s alleged temper/anger, it’s only fair that the much worse Harry rumors be noted as well.)

************

It’s a bit funny -- I did originally have those Harry rumors in that post. I spent a good 20 minutes letting that write-up sit in my drafts because I was unsure about keeping those rumors in. Ultimately I decided to take them out because I wanted to focus the comparison specifically on the allegations and displays of anger because It’s not actually clear whether the rumors of Harry’s treatment of sex workers are based in anger or if it’s a sadistic fetish. (Apologies for the mental image.)

Honestly, it makes that one engagement with the charity that supports street sex workers (the visit of inspirational banana messaging) incredibly disgusting.

There is a fourth rumor about Harry on this matter - allegedly, when Meghan was in New York for the baby shower, Harry took company with some sex workers that scratched him...in flagrante delicto. Meghan got home, saw the scratches, asked Harry what happened, and he made up the fight with William and the dog bowl and his broken necklace so she wouldn’t find out about the cheating. 

That version is more plausible to me than 38-year-old William and 36-year-old Harry wrestling on the floor in the kitchen over a girl.

[saltyskeletonkidpasta]

agree with everything you said in your post. i also didn't like how season 7 erased how horrible beckett and ross/sullivan and to some extent all of 19 were to maya. they really wanted us to believe that maya (and carina) became friends with the workplace bullies that almost inadvertently killed her? good enough friends to attend ross & sullivans wedding/wedding party? make it make sense.

I agree it was weird. Maybe if the show hadn't been cancelled they might've continued the drama but they wanted to end things on a good note and I understand remaining professional especially maya as I'm sure she wanted no more drama but I remember repeatedly saying throughout s7 and even seasons before that that I would not stay at 19 if I was maya I really dont think there is any reason she should trust them to keep her safe. Like these people literally just watched her suffer for MONTHS and did nothing. She has been there for pretty much all of them and only andy was there for her when she lost her job AND when she ended up in hospital. The fact that maya was the one to apologise to beckett in 7x05 really pissed me off like yes she probably should apologise, although she already took full responsibility in s6, but there is absolutely no reason why beckett shouldnt apologise to her aswell. He literally bullied her to the point of mental collapse she only gave him alcohol in retaliation to months of abuse. Same with ross there is no reason she shouldnt have apologised either and when maya apologised in 6x16(?) She only said "some taken" so she didnt even fully accept her apology when maya wasnt the only one who owed one.

But these writers refuse to make certain characters look bad. They seemed to love Sullivan and ross and gave them sm screentime and excused all their actions. If they made them apologise then theyd actually have to acknowledge their disgusting behaviour which would get in the way of becketts redemption arc and ruin their perfect image of sully and ross.

[giggly-squiggily]

Caterpillar Rave (Moriarty The Patriot)

~I wrote this at 3 am.~

CW: Bugs, swearing

Summary: A caterpillar shows up in William's study and he's not having it. Sherly finds the whole thing incredibly amusing.

~~~

“Liam..”

“Don’t.” The blonde cut him off, not at all liking how amused Sherlock Holmes sounded in this moment. “Please, just…remove it.”

“But Liam, it’s only a ‘Pilly!” Sherlock nodded to the bright green caterpillar sitting on the window seal, struggling along towards one of William’s potted plants. “Don’t you know these little guys turn into some of the prettiest butterflies?”

“I don’t care. Remove it, please.” William glared, not budging from his spot towards the back of the room, his face grim. He had come to his study this morning to find none other than this intruder lingering about. “Ideally before it makes a meal out of my roses.”

“But of course.” Sherlock grinned, walking over and gathering the small critter in hand, giggling as it marched across his fingers. “Tickly little thing, aren’t ya? Alright- where’d you want this little guy, Liam?”

“Outside preferably- don’t come over here with it!” William stepped back when the detective approached, cupping his hands. “Just- dispose of it out the window or something!”

“Come now, Liam. You and I both know ‘Pilly’s don’t hurt humans.” Sherlock laughed as he turned back to the window, opening it up and letting the little guy go among some nearby ivy. “They’re good for the Ecosystem! Eat all the invasive plants and whatnot.”

“That’s lovely, and I’ll gladly let them do that outside. Not here.” William seemed to relax some upon the caterpillar’s exit, turning to his desk. “They’re welcome to the weeds amongst the garden; though I suspect Fred will pitch a fit if they find their way to his tomatoes..”

“Poor kid would disguise himself as one just to take them down.” Sherlock snickered at the mental image, walking up to William with his hands still in fists. “I hadn’t known you were afraid of Pillys, Liam.”

“I’m not afraid of them. I just find them disgust-EEH!” William archered when he felt something ticklish at the back of his neck, his collar being pulled. Slapping a hand there, the other reaching around to feel his back, it was only then he realized nothing had been dropped down his clothes. Turning around, he cut a scary look at Sherlock, face red. “You are a scoundrel, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock howled in mirth, head thrown back as he held his belly. “Oohohohoho my god! What a sqheheheal that was, Liam! Oohohohoho, god! *Snort* Yohohohohur fahahahce!”

William only continued to glare, arms crossed and scowl permanent as Sherlock doubled over, slapping his knees as he cackled. “Are you done? If not, you can continue your laughing fits back at Baker Street.”

“Wahhait! Wait, Liam, I’m-pffft! Ehehehe! I’m sorry!” Sherlock shuffled over to the glaring blonde, holding up his hands in apology. “You’d know I’d never actually do that to you! I just wahahanted to spohohook you, thahahat’s all!”

William only turned away, silent as stone. Sherlock sobered, wondering if he’d genuinely hurt the other man with his prank.

“Liam, I truly am sorry-”

What happened next was a blur. Sherlock had gone to apologize properly, a flash of red gleamed, and the next thing he knew he was on his back, arching with a shout of laughter as William’s fingers attacked his ribs. “AH! AHhahhehahhahahaha! L-LIihihihihiham, pleahahhahahahse!”

“My, how quickly you’ve gone to begging. After how much laughing you’ve done at me just now, I’d figure you’d want to keep going.” William teased, something devilish in his voice as he wormed his fingers up and down Sherlock’s ribs. “Don’t stop on my account, now.”

“Ahehahahhhahahahaha! Lihihihiihihiam! Lihihihihiam, pleehahahhhahahse, nohohohohot the rihihihiihihihbs!” The detective thrashed and squealed, torn between curling into a ball and fighting the hands working their way up slowly towards his upper ribs. “Coohohohohome ohohoohoh, I’m shahahhhahahrry!”

“I don’t believe you.” William spoke without malice. “This isn’t nearly as hard as the way you laughed after your little prank. I think it’s only fair we reach that same level before I let you go.” His thumbs drew circles against the brunette’s upper ribs, the rest of his fingers tapping along his armpits. “My, is this a bad spot?”

“EEEE! Lihihiihhiihhiam, dohoohohoohon’t!” Sherlock arched, nearly sending them both flying as those dastardly fingers dug into his upper torso. Reaching out, he gently squeezed the blonde’s sides, making him yelp and pull his hands back. “Gohohohohotcha nohohohohow!”

“Ihihi’m suhuhuhre you thohohohught!” William giggled out as he pushed the hands away, reaching back and squeezing Sherlock’s knee. The detective all but spasmed, a squeaky guffaw breaking out his lips. “Now, If I recall correctly, you have a rather good tickle spot right along…”

“Nohohohoho! Nohohoohho, Liahahhaam plehehehahse! Not the fehehhet! Not the FEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHT!” Sherlock shrieked when his feet were attacked, William’s nails dancing against his socked soles. Flopping like a fish, Sherlock’s next few rounds of noise were a combination of swears, jumbled threats, and pleads for mercy. “LIHIHIIIHIAM, PLEHAHHAHAHSE!”

“Done laughing at me? Are you going to pull any more tricks like that?” William asked.

“YHEHEHEHEHEHS! I MEAHHAHAN NOOHOOHOHO! BOHOHOHOOTH?”

“Both? Now which one are you referring to, Sherly?” William released his feet, moving back up to squeeze the detective’s legs, making him kick and giggle. “Are you intending to prank me again with those awful things?”

“Nohohoohhoohoho! *Snort* Nehehhehehehver!” Sherlock wheezed, cheeks rosy and lightly glistening.

“Are you done laughing at me?” 

“Mahahhahaybe? Ah! Ohoohohokay ohohohokay!” Sherlock squeaked when a hand went back to his knee briefly. “Ihihihihiihm done, I swhehheahhahar!”

“Hm…very well.” William released the other, watching as Sherlock collapsed against the wooden floors with a gasp. “You’re forgiven. Do that again and I’ll have your head.”

“Whihiihch one?” Sherlock asked, giggling through a yelp when William pinched his arm, shaking his head.

“You’re terrible.”

“You lohohove me.”

“You’re just fortunate I do.” William turned to get up, only to find Sherlock’s arms locking him in place. “Sherly, I do need to get some work done.”

“You tickle me to tears and think that’s the end? I think not!” Sherlock declared, pressing his face into the blonde’s neck, nuzzling it gently. “Besides, you work all the time. Come spend the day with me. We’ll go to that hotspring again- get something good to eat along the way. Besides.” Sherlock’s tone turned conspiratorial as he eyed the window. “What if that Pilly comes back and brings friends? They’d ambush you!”

“I’ll be sure to sacrifice you to them.” William elbowed him gently in the belly, earning a huff of laughter against his neck. “I’m sure they’d find someone like you to their taste; even if it’d be a light meal when they reach your brain.”

“Light meal!? Oh, you’re asking for it now, Liam! Come here!” The tickles resumed, this time William’s laughter filling the room alongside Sherlocks.

~~~

Down below, Fred stared incredulously at the small patch of Caterpillars munching at his Tomato plant.

“This.” He pointed, already making plans on his newest disguise. “Means WAR!”

Thanks for reading!

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Warnings: overhaul x reader drabble, involves heavy topics like suicide, death, vomit, self loathing, character asking to be killed and among other mental health issues since this is Chisaki, so be aware of this before you read it. Not recommended to minors to be honest.

"So many years wasted... throw inside a trashcan...." he murmured to himself as he stared at the image that appeared on the mirror in front of him.

He shouldn't be felling sorry for himself.... after all he has done. After all he did to the boss... he didn't deserve it. The pain on his chest and soul wouldn't go away. Ever. Not even if he was allowed to apology to the man in coma and begrudgingly to the little girl he had taken advantage of.

None of this would have happened if he just listened to the old man. None of this would have happen if he had put his pride aside... None of this would be real if he wasn't welcome in inside the yakuza.

"Such... a waste... of human garbage." he hissed the last words in disgust as he dropped his head... if he still had his hands, probably they would be gripping the sides of his hair by now.

Oh, right. He would still have fucking arms and hands if he wasn't such a idiotic asshole.

He couldn't even bring back the man he had as a father figure. What the hell was he even worth for now? The shie hassaikai was ruined, because of him. He had.... nothing.

"Hey.." he widened his eyes at the sound before slowly lifting his head to see your figurine leaning on the doorway, a small and tired smile plastered on your face... as usual. "I was thinking of maybe karekatsu for dinner, what do you think?"

... another thing he wasn't worth for...

You.

"... do whatever you want." He whispered harshly and tried to ignore the pain in his chest at hearing your sigh.... which he couldn't tell if it was from annoyance or just plenty up tired with his bullshit.

Despite everything he made you go through, you had somehow manage to convince the heroes that his condition in tartarus was impossible to live. Convincing the authorities that despite being his fiance, you would keep him at house arrest all of the time until his sentence was done.

He had this metal black thing on his right ankle that was a painfull reminder on the day you finally saw him out of tartarus...

You had those... eyes. Disappointed yet worried ones. He does know how much you loved children, so hearing of his abouts must be horrific for you.

Yet you were still there... still with him...

How...? But mostly important... why?

He let himself fall on his back on the bed he was sitting on previously... staring at the ceiling in numbness as his ears capted the backroom noise.

After a few minutes or so, he could hear you approaching and then softly knocking on the door frame.

"Is done. Do you want to eat here or..?"

"... to be honest, I am not hungry." He spoke nonchantly while he could tell by his peripheral vision that you had crossed your arms over your chest.

"You're not hungry or you don't want to be fed?"

Shit. You knew him well.

Being spoon feed made him feel like a newborn... made him feel worthless and vulnerable... he didn't liked one bit.

"... perhaps... both."

"Kai, you need to eat something... I don't want you to become skin and bones only..." You pleaded and he finally had the courage to turn his head in your direction.

"....wouldn't it be easier...? Wouldn't be easier if you let me die...? Or if that shigaraki had killed me instead of-"

"Stop." He closed his mouth at your sharp tone "Stop depreciating yourself. You're alive and will be alive for a long time." You stormed out and he inhaled sharply before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

Being alive sounded more like a punishment nowadays....

He almost flinched when the bed suddenly stopped a bit with your weight as he stared up at you with wide eyes.

Despite wanting to end it all, he still flinched at sudden movements or even the smallest brushes of skin to skin contact... he had fallen so hard... from a powerfull and fearfull yazuka to a mere quirkless, disable, worthless and a scared cat man...

Such a shame...

"Sit up." You ordered gently and he couldn't help to just follow your orders for once... in the past it would be a bit of resistance, but who was he now to decline a order if he couldn't do absolute nothing for himself?

With your help, as always, he managed to sit up with his back resting on the mattress of the bed as he eyed the bowl of karekatsu you had brought.

"You-"

"I did cut it so you wouldn't choke. Yeah. Besides a I brought a spoon this time instead of the hashis." You smiled sheepish as you shaked the utensil in your hand between two fingers.

He was jealous for a second...

"Ready to be my taste tester?" You stopped up some food and held it to his face as his nose scrunched up...

The humiliation...

He hesitantly opened his mouth to allow the food to enter.... he hated being taken care of, but you were right... he was famished...

The flavors almost exploded on his tongue as soon as his taste buds registered that it wasn't the usualbarley rice and miso soup he was obligated to choke down as the guards madenhim swallow it... no. It was yours doing. He missed the familiarity of your cooking all times he had to eat the tartarus meals... it was so rich in flavors that he almost let a moan escape...

"Good? Was my first time doing it..." You asked after he had swallowed it.

"... is... " usually this time his pride would make him say stupid things like: 'is alright' or 'is food'

But now, he let it slip the silent word perfect in the quiet room...

"I'm so happy to hear that!" You smiled... how long has it been since you had smiled at him like that?

.... wait. No.

No he didn't deserve to miss that freacking smile. He didn't deserve you treating him like glass. He didn't deserve to be breathing the same air as you are.

Such a gentle and sweet soul like yours shouldn't be with him.

He suddenly threw himself out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom, kneeling harshly on the ground as vomit traveled from his stomach to all the way out of his mouth as he coughed violently.

"Kai!" He heard your voice from afar and cringed when he felt your soft hand rubbing gentle circles on his back as he spilled his guts out... "Is alright... don't force yourself, let it all out..."

Your gentle murmurs only seemed to worse his state of mind and body... he noticed how he started to tremble, his jaw seemed like it was going to fall apart, his stomach hurted like a bitvh along with his chest... he was hot... so hot in his head that it felt suffocating...

The disgusting taste of the bile of his stomach, the way he had harshly threw up hurted.... as soon as he had finished, he felt something burbling on his chest as he furrowed his eyebrows at the feeling before slamming his forehead against the toilet and shouting in the loudest volume he could... just to see if the pain lessened for a bit.

It did not.

He felt your fingers brushing his hair back and he couldn't help but to let out the loudest sob he had ever heard as you picked a wet napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth while suushing him.

"Calm down you just need to breath love..." You spoke and he inhaled sharply at the way the nickname you gave to him slipped so easily and smoothly from your lips... he gagged at the horrific smell of vomit as you helped him up the best you before leading him out of the bathroom from his sake.

He was brought to the bedroom once again as he could tell you were internally panicking at his state...

"O-ok... take a big breath in and out, I'm going to get some water and-"

"Kill.. me..." You froze and looked at him like he had grew another head.

".. what?"

"Kill me... please...." his shoulder shook and soon enough you were embracing him so strongly he let himself fall apartly completely "P-Please-! I don't deserve to live!"

"No lov-"

"DONT CALL ME THAT!" He wailed before lowering his face on the crook of your neck "I'M A WASTE OF HUMAN BEING! LOOK AT ALL I HAVE DONE! NOT ONLY I AM USELESS BUT I AM A FREACKING MONSTER! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN HERE STILL?! YOU DONT DESERVE THAT!" He wailed loudly on your neck as he felt you carrying the hair on the nape of his neck as you stayed in silence.

"I-If I die... than it would be better. Pops and erj would have their revenge for what I did to to both of them, the ex members of the hassaikai would feel revenge as well... you won't have to deal with a disable and worthless husband any longer... "

"Kai dont-"

"Don't lie... I know you have no feelings for me... you're here out of pity... I don't deserve it... I don't deserve none of it..." he hiccups as tears traveled down from his face to your shirt "not your pity and specially not your kindness..."

It was silent for a bit as he tried to recover himself form the sudden attack before he felt you cupping both cheeks and making him look at you..

You had tears of your own on those eyes... your lips were chapped due to constantly biting them and your hair was a mess.

Yet you looked... so beautiful.

"I'm not gonna lie, what you did was extremely fucked up and I don't feel a single hit of pity towards you for it." He didn't wanted to but he flinched at that.

"But I'm not lying when I say everything is going to turn out OK sooner or later. I am not lying each morning when I check of you are alright and check how are your arms.... I don't lie when it comes to me worrying about you 24 hours at day and certainly not about my love for you."

"... how? How could you still love a man like me after everything I done..?" He asked, his voice rough due to him throwing up and shouting a few minutes ago...

You brushed a tear away with your thumb before placing a gentle kiss to his lips, not caring if he had brushed them or not.

"I just do... no one is 100% bad or good.... and your beauty never really scared me..."

He blinked and stared at you like you were the craziest person he had ever met.

Or maybe you were...

"What beauty...? I am no longer the man you married.. I am no longer a boss that had the confidence and power .... I don't even get to pick something for myself due to my arms being ripped off of me..."

"First, you still are the man I married. Different? Sure, but him no less.... second, power surely does not mean beauty... don't you remember I found you the hottest man alive by only wearing boxers?"

"Pervert-" you shush him with a skile when you got the glimpse of small one growing on those lips of his.

"Third and final... your arms. Kai it will take longer for you to get used to this new life-style and probably much longer when we get those prostheses... I can't promise you it will be easy, but what I can assure you is that I will not leave your side. I promised that on the altar, didn't I?"

"It means nothing if you no longer hold feeling-"

"Kai I love you." You grabbed his face and made his golden eyes lock with yours "I love you, and I will say it as much times you need me to convince your stubborn ass that."

He blinked a drop pf tear away as he almost whispered the question.

".. how?... why?"

And you answered once again

"Your beauty never really scared me..."

.

.

(A/n): this... turned out like shit. I am sorry.

[broke-art]

Syntax x Abused reader

Your coughing fit stole Syntax's attention from his work. He tilted his head at first, then threw you a glance over his shoulder.

"I thought I told you to rest."

You rubbed at your right eye sleepily.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black." You scoffed lightly.

Syntax set down his tools.

"In a manner of speaking, I am somewhat nocturnal." He took the first aid kit from the table and walked over to you. "You, on the other hand, are not."

"Oh did I thrash too much again?" You inquired with a guilty frown as he knelt next to your cot and began to replace the bandages on your arms.

"Mhm." He pulled his goggles over his eyes to remedy his far sightedness. "You kept apologizing as well. I was tempted to wake you, but then you went quiet. I assumed you had passed the worst of it."

"And my coughing gave me away?"

Syntax gently pressed your chin up to inspect the bandages around your throat.

"Indeed."

"What time is it?" You glanced around the room looking for a clock but found none.

"It's almost 4 in the morning." Syntax responded casually packing up the kit again.

Fatigue slammed against your senses forcing you to lay down.

"Syntax?"

He hummed over his shoulder as he put away the kit.

"Thank you." As your eyes slid closed you heard his light chuckle.

"Sleep well, y/n."

Some time later.

You awoke to a light tapping sound. You blinked slowly and sat up. The room's appearance was slightly brighter, but not much due to being in a cave.

"Morning." Syntax greeted as he walked over. "May I check your bandages?"

You nodded and allowed him to check each.

"No blood is seeping through, that's a good sign." He muttered then reached for something behind you.

A mental image of your father reaching for you flashed behind your eyes and you flinched. The movement was slight, but Syntax caught on to it.

He paused and studied you a moment. Then he retracted his hand and stepped around you carefully. Still he kept himself in your line of sight knowing you couldn't stand people standing behind you.

Guilt pricked you. His adjustment had been minor, but you hated to inconvenience him nonetheless.

"Syntax, I'm really sorry." You apologized as he walked back to his desk.

"For?" He glanced back at you curiously.

"Being annoying." You mumbled rubbing your upper right arm.

Syntax rose an eyebrow.

"I don't see how you have been annoying in any sense of the word."

You weren't sure how to explain what you meant so you simply let your gaze drop.

Syntax studied you and opened his mouth to speak when the lab doors opened suddenly.

Your heart felt as though it stopped in your chest at the sudden movement.

"Y/n! How's my sweet niece doing?"

You fidgeted on the cot glancing at Syntax who has taken a knee at the Queen's entrance.

"U-Um I'm ok." You mumbled wincing at how your voice broke.

"Aw I know you're still shaken up, sugar. But don't worry. That father of yours can't hurt you anymore." She spat the word 'father' as though it disgusted her. "Huntsman handled it effectively. Right, Huntsman?"

The Huntsman grinned at you and nodded.

"Yes, my queen."

Horror swept through you at the reality of never seeing your father again. Never leaving this cave.

"He's-" you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Of course he'd hurt you. Many times. And you hated him for that, but he was all you had.

"Oh don't worry, sugar." Spider Queen soothed. "You can stay here. And Syntax will make sure you get fixed up properly."

Panic tore through you. What if Spider Queen attacked you? Syntax couldn't defend you from her. Infact, he'd likely side with her. You didn't know these tunnels well. You were basically trapped here.

Air became scarce in your lungs and you began to gasp as the world blurred around you.

When your senses returned, Syntax was leaning over you.

"Y/n I need you to breathe." He instructed gently helping you sit up.

Your memory slammed back into you at the sight of Spider Queen. Her features broadcasted shock, but it didn't ease you any. Fear rushed through you again and you hugged Syntax's arm.

A blush burned across his features but Syntax coughed into his fist.

"My Queen, I believe she requires time to take in the information."

Spider Queen stared at the both of you. But when you refused to meet her gaze, she slowly nodded.

"Alright. You rest easy, sugar. Come along Huntsman."

You watched them leave and relaxed slightly at their absence.

Syntax smiled when your muscles laxed.

"Don't worry, I won't let Huntsman hurt you." He assured.

Relief flooded your heart and tears filled your eyes.

"You mean that?"

Syntax looked taken aback by your tears.

"Well...Of course."

"Thank you." You mumbled quietly.

Slowly over the weeks, you began to relax.

Syntax seemed to be endlessly patient and kind to you. He'd often help you sit on his desk so he could examine your injuries. Today was such a time.

"You look better rested." Syntax mentioned approvingly. "I take it you had better dreams?"

Your heart raced as the last dream you had of him flashed behind your eyes and your cheeks flared red.

"Yep!" You chirped quickly praying he didn't ask much more about the subject.

He rose a brow inquiringly, but didn't say much until he noticed a bruise on your cheek.

"What's this?" He asked gently cupping your face. "This wasn't here yesterday."

"Oh." Your hand flew to your cheek. "I was training with Huntsman."

Syntax scowled.

"Is that so? I seem to recall you telling me, you disliked those sparring matches."

You wrung your hands nervously.

"He cornered me while you were getting material."

Syntax took a deep breath.

"I should have known. Forgive me, I should have initiated the traps." Syntax pressed up his sleeve revealing a touch pad attached to his wrist.

"Oh no, I don't want the Queen to trip them." You stopped him by placing your hand on his.

Syntax's head snapped up and you froze. It had been the first time you had done anything even remotely contrary to him.

After a long pause Syntax dropped his arm.

"You have a point. I will leave the traps down, for now." He sighed. "But we will have to work on your ability to say, 'no'."

Your gut churned. People pleasing was a bad habit, but it was so difficult to break.

"How?"

Syntax grinned at you.

"Well I have a few ideas. We'll start off with something simple." He leaned against the table only a breath away from your face. "May I kiss you?"

Your pulse went wild and your face ignited into a scarlet blush. What kind of a test was this?! You were surely going to fail.

Syntax smirked at your reaction but waited patiently for your answer.

"Don't be shy, princess. I'll wait."

Your heart felt like it might explode with how face it was beating.

"Yes?" You asked finally.

Syntax rose an eyebrow at you but his smirk never faded.

"That isn't the right answer, princess. Try again." Despite how smug he looked, his tone was sincere and gentle.

"Am I supposed to say no?" You asked trying to breathe normally.

"Your answer depends entirely on what you want." He explained simply.

Only it wasn't simple.

"What if I want to say yes?" You asked quietly feeling your face burn brighter.

Syntax's smirk turned into an amused smile.

"Then say yes."

It took a few minutes to work up your courage but eventually you mumbled the word.

"Yes."

Syntax swiped a kiss on your lips that was sweet but swift and then gave you your space.

"That's... Not what I was expecting." You admitted dazed as you touched your fingers to your lips.

Syntax chuckled.

"Well, we don't want to make you hyperventilate again, now do we?"

You smiled at his tease and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

Syntax blushed and tossed you a smile.

As the weeks passed you did grow better at saying 'no' and get more comfortable with your surroundings.

And after what felt like forever Syntax finally asked you to be his. And once you agreed, the lair finally began to feel like home.

[stainedglassgob]

[Image ID: DM conversation between @ariskofrain (Rain) and me on Twitter.

Rain: hiya goblin, just wanted to reach out and let you know that i talked with jg about the design of justice spoon for the card game - we agreed to change that design, and i would like to apologise for the initial design being so close to yours, that's absolutely on me and doing less research than i should. let me know if there's anything else you'd like from me, and again, i am sorry.

Me: I’m more than fine with JG or other artists using my designs in the project, I merely wanted some form of credit with said design, as well as the other pre-existing designs that were being used (goodwin, fish, mike, etc.)

Me: Let me know if you saw this message because I genuinely do not want JG to redraw the card.

Rain: well i chatted it over with jg, and it was both of our decisions to make the change - to be clear, it's not the only card that is getting an art change, it just so happened if was one of the cards on jg's list of cards that she wanted to change anyway. and to be clear about what the crediting plans are, we are already including a section for artists whose designs had a notable influence, and you're gonna appear there, regardless of the redraw. but ultimately we're happier with the new piece, as has been the case for any of the various redraws over the course of the project

Me: awesome, thank you so much! i apologize for my forwardness with any of these messages, crediting is something i'm passionate about and i'm very thankful to hear that it'll be included in the game

Rain: i absolutely get it, don't worry, it's important for us too

End ID.]

This was the DM conversation I had after I emailed Wayfinder games with a spreadsheet of uncredited/stolen player designs featured in Blaseball: Wild Cards. In hindsight, I wish I was more forward with my actual demands, but back then I didn’t think people would be on my side or that I would have any of my requests met. The fact that Rain even responded to me (even though our last DM conversation was Rain leaving me on read about a commission) was a surprise. It’s been half a year since the conversation, and Wayfinder continues to not be transparent with design usage and persists in asking for permission to use designs AFTER the cards have been made. Designers aren’t seeing a penny to their name and have received no public recognition from the company. I am a business graduate. Never in my life have I heard of a company that would rather waste time, effort, and money on redesigning cards rather than working with designers from the beginning to make sure everyone is being paid fairly for their work. I legitimately feel bad for the hired artists that have been repeatedly made to redraw a card over and over because Wayfinder didn’t do their due diligence. As a freelance artist, character designer, and Blaseball fan, I am disgusted by Wayfinder’s lack of care towards everyone involved in this cash grab of a card game. The fact that this isn’t even my only grievance towards Blaseball: Wild Cards is severely frustrating and mentally taxing to explain.