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One of the problems I had with the online radicalization of Jalil in reunion is how it actually occurs. Jalil is supposedly radicalized by a message board, but it’s provided by alliance and the AI mascot he uses is Lila. So it’s left muddled on what exactly is happening here.
Is there really an internet based opposition to LB and CN? You wouldn’t think it since Paris enlarge is shown to still support them. But the presence of message boards would imply at least some support for monarch even if it’s mostly trolls. Or is alliance fabricating it for Gabriel to upset people in a targeted way? Or is it just Lila with a bunch of alt accounts? It’s really hard for me to tell just how wide spread this is as a problem for Paris considering it’s dropped after this one episode.
I'm also not sure how seriously we're supposed to take the criticism shown in that episode. It feels very much like the sort of BS we get with Su-Han where he points out a legitimate concern but in the most obnoxious, inflammatory way possible so that the audience feels forced to disagree with him. It's terrible writing that isn't very fun to watch. Reminds me of all the awful live-action Disney reboots that try to engage with every critical take anyone has ever had, leading to a lesser story. They would be much better off to just ignore the criticism they don't want to properly address and have fun with the story even if there's an arguable flaw. That's what suspension of disbelief is all about!
You want Paris to support Ladybug and Chat Noir no matter what they do? Cool! That works! Just don't take an episode and introduce the idea that there is actually criticism out there because that makes us start to question things like anon is doing here.
Another great example is the "issue" that Gabriel never uses the butterfly miraculous to heal his wife when it feels like that should be within its power. The show was totally correct to never address that on screen because the butterfly probably should be able to heal her! The reason it can't is because then the show would end. If the writers tried to explain an in-universe reason, then it would be as nonsensical as their explanation of how the rooster works:
Gabriel: There! (to Orikko) You! You can grant me any power I want! (closes the Grimoire and walks toward Orikko) You will give me the power to travel through time! Orikko: No, you're mistaken! Time travel is Fluff's power and I can't grant the power that already belongs to another Kwami! Gabriel: Are you trying to deceive me?? Orikko: (nods) By all means! Read the Grimoire again! (Gabriel reopens the Grimoire.) Sass: Each Kwami represents a concept, and a concept can only exist once in the universe. Xuppu: Too complicated, Sass! Let's use an example to make things simpler. Take Tikki, she is the Kwami of Creation, and creation is creation, and if there's another creation than creation, then it's not "creation", it's "replication"! Gabriel: Then grant me the power to locate Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous! Orikko: Trouble is, that's not a power; that's a wish! Xuppu: For instance, if I asked Santa for a pair of socks, that's a wish. But if I want Santa to grant me the power to knit socks, then it means Santa needs to know how to knit socks in the first place so he can teach me! Gabriel: (groans angrily) Grant me the power to unmask Ladybug and Cat Noir's secret identities! Xuppu: No can do! Orikko: (shoves Xuppu away) I cannot give a power that would disrupt another Kwami's magic. And being able to conceal the person behind the costume, well, that's part of the magic of their Kwami. Gabriel: (enraged) So you're utterly useless!
If all of this is true, then how do the goat and the peacock make things? Isn't that Creation? And how was the butterfly able to make a time travel villain? That's Fluff's power! And how was Gabriel able to offer to make Marinette into a villain who could unmask people via the butterfly? That's going against the miraculous' powers!
The answer is simply that the lore was not thought out in a way that stands up to even the most basic questions. When that's the case, the only way to handle the problem is to just ignore it. Keep your on screen explanations as shallow as your lore. Don't try to add depth that isn't there. Trying to address it just highlights how shitty your world building is.
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I can't help but marvel over this episode over and over. they seriously outdone themselves with every detail, and it really gives you that powerful impact- as if you're going through the scenes with HB's characters. they've improved so much since Season 1 and if this is Season 2's quality- it's going to be CINEMATIC to watch Season 3. many many props to the animators of this show!!! i fucking love you guys to Hell and back!!!!
#𐂃「ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙᴜʟʟᴇᴛꜱ」 &&. * 𝐨𝐨𝐜.#( SORRY FOR THE RANT#I was editing icons and-#I LOST MYSELF thinking how LUCKY we are to#have these animators#I wanna cry for not#only giving us a FANTASTIC SHOW#but also for granting us a powerful message#that love comes in all forms/places#I CAN RANT ENDLESSLY ABOUT HB/HH#BY FAR THE BEST DEMON SHOW AND I'M SO#GRATEFUL TO BE A PART OF THIS FANDOM#I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH#AND SEROUSLY LOVE EVERY INTERACTION I GET#YALL ARE THE BEST PLS NEVER FORGET IT <3 )#hb spoilers#helluva boss spoilers
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Please read the last two paragraphs of Justice Sonia Sotomayor's dissent to the recent 6-3 decision granting presidents absolute immunity:
Looking beyond the fate of this particular prosecution, the long-term consequences of today’s decision are stark. The Court effectively creates a law-free zone around the President, upsetting the status quo that has existed since the Founding. This new official-acts immunity now “lies about like a loaded weapon” for any President that wishes to place his own interests, his own political survival, or his own financial gain, above the interests of the Nation. The President of the United States is the most powerful person in the country, and possibly the world. When he uses his official powers in any way, under the majority’s reasoning, he now will be insulated from criminal prosecution. Orders the Navy’s Seal Team 6 to assassinate a political rival? Immune. Organizes a military coup to hold onto power? Immune. Takes a bribe in exchange for a pardon Immune. Immune, immune, immune. Let the President violate the law, let him exploit the trappings of his office for personal gain, let him use his official power for evil ends. Because if he knew that he may one day face liability for breaking the law, he might not be as bold and fearless as we would like him to be. That is the majority’s message today. Even if these nightmare scenarios never play out, and I pray they never do, the damage has been done. The relationship between the President and the people he serves has shifted irrevocably. In every use of official power, the President is now a king above the law. The majority’s single-minded fixation on the President’s need for boldness and dispatch ignores the countervailing need for accountability and restraint. The Framers were not so single-minded. In the Federalist Papers, after “endeavor[ing] to show” that the Executive designed by the Constitution “combines . . . all the requisites to energy," Alexander Hamilton asked a separate, equally important question: “Does it also combine the requisites to safety, in a republican sense, a due dependence on the people, a due responsibility?”. The answer then was yes, based in part upon the President’s vulnerability to “prosecution in the common course of law.” The answer after today is no. Never in the history of our Republic has a President had reason to believe that he would be immune from criminal prosecution if he used the trappings of his office to violate the criminal law. Moving forward, however, all former Presidents will be cloaked in such immunity. If the occupant of that office misuses official power for personal gain, the criminal law that the rest of us must abide will not provide a backstop. With fear for our democracy, I dissent.
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Love I think geta embodies:
Selfish love- loving Geta meant giving your all to him. He belonged to Rome, to the throne, which meant you didn’t have much of his heart to yourself but all Geta wanted was your love for his own. That was all he asked, he wasn’t the sharing type, and thus didn’t like the idea of you freely giving your attention to someone else who wasn’t him. He liked having your eyes on him because at least he’ll find a pair of eyes amidst the crowd that looked back at him with affection and love.
Possessive love- Geta is a possessive and powerful man. His words are law, his words are what were commanded to the masses from the gods above, testing humanity to challenge their will. So the moment he declared that you were his there was finality to his words and he expected people to know that. Geta would go all out and make sure that if people were going to ignore his words, then he’ll drape you in the richest of clothes and the finest of jewellery that he could find to make sure the message got across without a hitch.
Yet it still wasn’t enough to satisfy his innermost thoughts that it wasn’t enough, nothing was ever enough to calm the feeling that there will always be someone who’ll have wandering eyes for you. You were his and his alone and Geta didn’t take too kindly to others, especially not those who thought they’d get away with looking at you the same way he did. He wanted to consume you whole but knew he couldn’t, so he tried his hardest to make it well enough an example to those with wandering eyes will be dealt with brutally and in the most inhumane way possible.
A love that can only exist behind closed doors- geta isn’t known as a gentle man -not even close- but he did try for you as you two would rest in your shared chambers with you running your fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp as he sunk into your embrace. The weight of the golden laurels that graced his head weighed heavy, but with you Geta found himself a lot lighter when you were nearby, a soothing balm to his soul and someone the god bless him to be the peace he so craved.
Geta was use to feeling the pressure of the throne on his shoulders, but the way that you’d trace shapes into his back seemed to magically make the ache disappear as though magic flowed through your fingertips. He’d confide in you more than he’s ever confided in anyone else about his brother, about his ambitions, his worries and upsets that he’d fear would make him look weak; just for you to console him and give him better counsel then the senate ever had in his entire reign.
‘You’re emperor, conduit of the gods, but you’re also the human known as Geta.’ You tell him softly as the night befell on you both quickly. ‘A human is allowed to make mistakes but an emperor is not, for an emperor to show flaws is to show the flaws of the gods themselves,’ you then kissed his head as your fingers trailed his neck, ‘but I want my Geta to be as human as he can be just for me if that’s not too much to ask for.’
‘Whatever my beloved wishes of me shall be granted.’ He replies, equally as soft as his thumb caresses your forearm before planting several kisses there. ‘Your love makes me strong, uplifts me and I pray to the gods that I do the same for you, or at least try to.’ You cut him off by kissing his forehead. ‘And your best is all I ask Geta, it’s all I ask of you for too much is already asked of you already.’ You then continued to cuddle him close in hopes of giving him your love in another way, to make sure that he knew that he was loved should words one day fail you.
It was moments like theses where Geta was able to be human that was a rarity for all of Rome expect you, you got to see the man beneath the emperor, you got to see your Geta with the tired eyes and heavy shoulders and hands that held you with the tightness of an iron clamp. Your Geta never was soft in public but when you were alone together he was a soul in desperate need of love, of devotion and a softness that he could cal his own; and he did in the form of you.
His god given solace, his safe haven and his gift from the gods. He was yours just as much as you were his to have and hold every night.
Love I think Caracalla embodies:
Chaotic love - to have the off chance to experience a love like Caracalla’s is akin to a battlefield, one where uncertainty, death, blood and dismemberment were more common then him cradling your face with blood smeared hands as he roughly caresses your face and stares at you with wild eyes.
He’d kill those whose hands and eyes wander equally too much for what he deemed appropriate before kissing you with the blood of those very same people coating his lips. He was chaos that took human form, threatening to consume everything within his vicinity, even yourself with how close you were to him. Yet there is a weird feeling that comes with that chaos that lures you into a false sense of security with all the lavish perks that often blinded you to the reality of position that you find yourself in.
Bloody/dark love - there’s a lot of blood staining Caracalla’s hands. How you handle with other information, whether you despised the destruction that was inflicted by this man, or thrived off of the idea of being romantically involved with a man of such dangerous capabilities is completely up to you. Yet one thing remained the same and that was the fact that you’ll have to get use to his needed for bloodshed, for violence, for anything that involved people getting hurt.
It was his fix of sorts and sooner or later you’ll grow a strong enough stomach to withstand the scent of blood that will permitted your life with the emperor. There’s jealously, there’s inferiority and there’s so much more within the so called love that many would view as harsh or even cursed at times, people pitied you but wouldn’t dare step in the way of an emperor who could make their lives infinitely worse without hesitation.
Doomed love - your love with Caracalla is doomed from the start. It’s not pretty and it’s bound to break your heart one way or another. His illness was bound to take him away from you, terribly and completely to the point where he’d often have moments where he’d look at you like a stranger within your own chambers. It worsens everyday and all you could was to hold him against your chest, keeping his hand away from reaching the knife behind you as you beg him to remember you, remember your voice, anything as tears streamed down your face.
This love you had would eat you alive if you didn’t end up dead first, whether it be by Caracalla’s or someone else’s doing entirely. He’d cling onto you obsessively, tears in his own eyes as he asks you whether your favoured him or the random servant who’s blood still was fresh upon the floor, soaking both of your feet in a thick maroon colour. Your love with Caracalla was doomed to tears you both from skin and bone or submerge you within his madness and chaos
The love I think Marcus embodies;
Protective love - he fights with honour and your honour is one that he’ll defend until the day he dies. Marcus wouldn’t have you walk the streets of Rome unsafe as he was always by your side, keeping you close against him as he observes the people that brush past, with the intent of making sure no unsavoury characters will make you uncomfortable.
Marcus was more than willing to step in front of you, put his whole body on the line should he have to in order to ensure your safety from a maniac with a knife. Pushing you softly behind him as he stood before you like a brick wall, ready to defend and kill for you should he be forced to do such a thing, for there was not a bigger regret he would have within his heart then let you get hurt under his protection.
It would be a wound he would carry for the rest of his life should you ever get hurt, a physical as well as emotional wound that Marcus will use as motivation to do better by you, for if an scratch was found upon your skin he would surely feel as though he had failed as your lover and protector. He didn’t care what caused the harm, it was the fact that you had gotten hurt in the process that bothered the general more than anything else. Even if you did get hurt, he’d kiss the scar to show that it was just as deserving of love and care as the rest of you were; you were still the beloved person he had married.
Soft/tender love - the man had many callouses on his hands from all the fights he’s won and conquered with effortless eases but he had always held your face with the tenderness that you were most familiar with the night he returns.
‘My love.’ He often calls you with a voice that spoke of longing, of yearning and his eyes didn’t hide their softness from you either, instead his eyes looked at you as though you were everything he could have imagined in his lifetime. He would also think how he was truly blessed by the gods to have been granted you in his life as he brought your hands up to his face, where he kissed each and every knuckle all the while maintaining eye contact, it was enough to make one flustered that was for certain as your stomach erupted with butterflies from his affection.
It wasn’t hard to fall in love with a honourable man like Marcus, you had trouble finding something not to love about a man who’d kiss your shoulders and back of your neck until you awake in the morning, just to see his beautiful face smiling down at you in adoration and abundance of love that were as deep as the deepest well.
#emperor geta#geta x reader#geta x you#Geta imagine#Geta imagines#emperor geta x reader#emperor geta x you#emperor geta x y/n#emperor caracalla x reader#emperor caracalla x you#emperor Caracalla imagines#emperor Caracalla imagine#caracalla x reader#caracalla x you#Caracalla imagine#Caracalla imagines#marcus acacius x reader#marcus acacius x you#marcus acacius x y/n#Marcus acacius imagine#Marcus acacius imagines
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6 Types of Protection Magick
There are many ways one can do protective magick. In this post I'll be going into 6 of the most common and accessible ones!
Please understand that even one "protection magick type" can be done in an infinity of ways, some of which are closed to certain practices.
Disclaimer: based on my experience and research. I don't claim to know all truth. Further study is encouraged!
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#1 — Magic circle
The magic circle consists of creating a protection and delimiting a sacred space for magic and/or ritual.
The magic circle is probably one of the most popular protection methods thanks to its encouraged use in Wicca. However, other traditions have made use of similar concepts, such as in the afro-brazillian Umbanda concept of "chain".
The circle can be physically drawn on the ground, delimited by the members inside the circle, or visualized.
Casting one is fairly simple since it can be done in different ways, either in groups or solitary practice. You can use tools such as wands, chalk or physical objects to draw it, but what matters most is intention and successful visualization.
Before casting a circle it's important to have everything you will need already within grasp and inside the circle, since once created it is advisable that no one leaves it until the work is complete.
#2 — Amulets, and Enchanted Items
Enchanted Items are a very popular and effective form of magic, especially for personal use. These are often common objects that have been enchanted for protection.
They are often necklaces, rings and other jewelry since these are the most practical to carry around without suspicion. However, they can be any object.
Amulets can be created via enchanting, charms, or by asking deities and spirits to bless them with protective qualities.
The material and imagery used to create the talisman is also important in determining the kind of job it wants to do.
#3 — Sigils and other drawn Symbols
Sigils and Symbols can be used both for personal protection and for warding spaces. Here I am also including Runes.
They can be carved into objects, drawn upon skin and surfaces, or even tattooed.
However, before using any sigil, symbol or rune it is of extreme importance that you know exactly what they do, and know as much about them as possible. Especially if you plan on drawing them on your skin (either temporarily or permanently).
Unless specifically used only for protection purposes, inadequate use of them can lead to disaster. Even then, the type of protection they bring can vary.
For example, a protection sigil that works by hiding you from threats is different from a sigil that fights threats that come to you. It's important to set or to know how their protection work so that you do not come across unwanted results.
#4 — Prayer
My definition of praying: focusing on sending a message to a higher spiritual power, be it an entity, deity or energy.
Prayers are a great way of manifesting protection, though since you are asking for it to a higher power you must understand that it may choose to not grant it, or not grant it in the way you expect.
Plus, it is very important to know where you stand with this energy or entity. Do you work with them already? For how long? What is the nature of the relationship? Do you truly know them well enough to ask them for this? Is it really appropriate?
Cultivating a good relationship and having manners can be decisive factors for manifesting this sort of protection. Plus, it's always good to "give back" in some way. To receive something, something must be given eventually.
#5 — Affirmations and Visualizations
Words and the mind have innate power. Affirmations and visualizations are great ways to manifest protections because they rely only on yourself.
They are easier to do right if you use them together with other methods, or if you have physical representations of the work being done. To be successful one must focus, "feel" them happening, and maintaining that without help can be difficult. Frequent practice will help you get the hang of it.
There are also techniques that make affirmations and visualizations both more powerful and easier to accomplish.
#6 — Warding
Warding is when you set up a semi-permanent protection in a specific place, such as your house.
It can be done in many different ways. One of the most common is to have an object or place designated as the "holder" of the ward, which should be well kept.
Warding will be more powerful if you are frequently cleansing the space and recharging the ward. Leaving it alone for too long can weaken in or make it lose its properties altogether.
Some plants are used for this kind of protection, since they (usually) stay in place, can be powerful magical allies, and you'll be checking on them often anyway. The ones usued are often those with thorns, threatening-looking leaves, or even poison.
Note: always be very careful about bringing poisonous plants home, especially if you have children or pets.
Conclusion
This was an overview of the most common types of protective magick. A lot of protection spells and works fall somewhere within these categories, or are a combination of them.
Each tradition has a certain way of going about spiritual protection, so if you are exploring an specific path, I encourage you to not only research about protection in general but to also look into what unique techniques your path has to offer!
Many blessings and thank you for reading! ♡
#witchblr#baby witch#long post#magick#paganism#spirit work#witch tips#witchcraft#pagan tips#baby wiccan#beginner wiccan#wicca#protection magic#warding#magic circle#pagan witch
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Disney's Wish
Look, Disney's Wish has been universally panned across the internet, and for good reason.
It’s just…kind of okay.
When we sit down to watch a Disney film—you know, from the company that dominated the animation industry from 1989 to (arguably) the mid 2010’s and defined the medium of animation for decades—we expect something magnificent. Now, I could sit here and tell you everything that I thought was wrong with Wish, but if you’re reading this review, then I imagine that you’ve already heard the most popular gripes from other users across the web. So, let me focus in:
The biggest problem with Wish—in fact, the only problem with Wish—is Magnifico.
Whoa, that’s crazy! There’re so many things about Wish that could’ve been better! The original concept was stronger! The music was bad--
I hear you, I do. But stay with me here, okay? Take my hand. I studied under artists from the Disney renaissance. I teach an adapted model of Disney’s story pipeline at a University level. I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting degrees in this, and I am about to dissect this character and the narrative to a stupid degree.
First, we need to understand that a good story doesn’t start and end with what we see on the screen. Characters aren’t just fictional people; when used well, characters are tools the author uses (or in this case, the director) to convey their message to the audience. Each character’s struggle should in some way engage with the story’s message, and consequently, the story’s theme. Similarly, when we look at our protagonist and our antagonist, we should see their characters and their journeys reflected in one-another.
So, what went wrong between Asha & Magnifico in terms of narrative structure?
Act I
In Wish, we’re introduced to our hero not long into the runtime—Asha. She’s ambitious, caring, and community-oriented; in fact, Asha is truly introduced to the audience through her love of Rosas (in “Welcome to Rosas”). She’s surrounded by a colorful cast of friends who act as servants in the palace, furthering her connection with the idea of community but also telling us that she’s not of status, and then she makes her way to meet Magnifico for her chance to become his next apprentice.
Quick aside: I'm not going to harp on Asha as a character in the context of Disney's overall canon. Almost every review I've seen covers her as a new addition to Disney's ever-growing repertoire of "Cute Quirky Heroines", and I think to be fair to Asha as an actor in the narrative, it serves her best to be weighed within the context of the story she's part of.
As Asha heads upstairs for her interview, we're introduced to the man of the hour: Magnifico. He lives in a tower high above the population of Rosas, immediately showing us how he differs from Asha; he’s disconnected from his community. He lives above them. He has status. While the broader context of the narrative wants us to believe that this also represents a sense of superiority, I would argue that isn’t what Magnifico’s introduction conveys; he's isolated.
Despite this distance, he does connect with Asha in “At All Costs”. For a moment, their goals and values align. In fact, they align so well that Magnifico sees Asha as someone who cares as much about Rosas as he does, and almost offers her the position.
… Until she asks him to grant Saba’s wish.
This is framed by the narrative as a misstep. The resonance between their ideals snaps immediately, and Magnifico says something along the line of “Wow. Most people wait at least a year before asking for something.”
This disappointment isn't played as coming from a place of power or superiority. He was excited by the idea of working with someone who had the same values as he did, who viewed Rosas in the same way he does, and then learns that Asha’s motivations at least partially stem from a place of personal gain.
Well, wait, is that really Asha's goal?
While it's not wholistically her goal, it's very explicitly stated & implied that getting Saba's wish granted is at least a part of it. The audience learns (through Asha's conversation with her friends before the interview) that every apprentice Magnifico has ever had gets not only their wish granted, but the wishes of their family, too! Asha doesn’t deny that this is a perk that she’s interested in, and I don't think this is a bad thing.
So, Is Asha’s commitment to Saba selfless, or selfish? I’m sure the director wanted it to seem selfless, wherein she believes her family member has waited long enough and deserves his wish granted, but we can’t ignore the broader context of Asha essentially trying to… skip the line.
Then, we get our first point of tension. Magnifico reveals his “true colors” in snapping at Asha, telling her that he “decides what people deserve”. This is supposed to be the great motivator, it’s meant to incite anger in the audience—after all, no one gets to decide what you deserve, right? But unfortunately for the integrity of the film and the audience's suspension of disbelief, at least part of Magnifico’s argument is a little too sound to ignore:
Some wishes are too vague and dangerous to grant. Now, there’s visual irony here; he says this after looking at a 100 old man playing the lute. The idea that something so innocuous could be dangerous is absurd, and the audience is meant to agree.
... But we’ve also seen plenty of other wishes that might be chaotic—flying on a rocket to space, anyone? The use of the word vague is important, too—this implies wording matters, and that a wish can be misinterpreted or evolve into something that is dangerous even if the original intent was innocuous. His reasoning for people forgetting their wish (protecting them from the sadness of being unable to attain their dreams) is much weaker, but still justifiable (in the way an antagonist’s flawed views can be justified). The film even introduces a facet of Magnifico’s backstory that implies he has personal experience with the grief of losing a dream (in the destruction of his home), but that thread is never touched on again.
What is the audience supposed to take from this encounter? If we’re looking at the director’s intent, I’d argue that we’ve been introduced to a well-meaning young girl and a king who’s locked away everyone’s greatest aspiration because he believes he deserves to have the power to decide who gets to be happy.
But what are we shown? Our heroine, backed by her friends, strives to be Magnifico’s apprentice because she loves the city but also would really like to see her family's wishes granted. When this request is denied and she loses the opportunity to be his apprentice, she deems Magnifico’s judgement unfair & thus begins her journey to free the dreams of Rosas’ people.
In fairness, Magnifico doesn’t exhibit sound judgement or kindness through this act of the film. He’s shown to be fickle, and once his composure cracks, he can be vindictive and sharp. He's not a good guy, but I'd argue he's not outright evil. He's just got the makings of a good villain, and those spikes of volatility do give us a foundation to work off of as he spirals, but as we’ll discuss in a bit, the foreshadowing established here isn’t used to the ends it implies.
While I was watching this film, I was sure Magnifico was going to be a redeemable villain. He can’t connect with people because he's sure they value what he provides more than they value him (as seen in “At All Costs” and the aftermath), and Asha’s asking for more was going to be framed as a mistake. His flaw was keeping his people too safe and never giving them the chance to sink or swim, and he's too far removed from his citizens to see that he is appreciated. Asha does identify this, and the culmination of her journey is giving people the right to choose their path, but the way Magnifico becomes the “true” villain and his motivations for doing so are strangely divorced from what we’re shown in Act I.
Act II:
His song, “This is the Thanks I Get!?” furthers the idea that Magnifico’s ire—and tipping point—is the fact that he thinks the people he’s built a kingdom for still want more. Over the course of this 3:14 song, we suddenly learn that Magnifico sends other people to help his community and doesn’t personally get involved (we never see this outside of this song), and that he’s incredibly vain/narcissistic (he's definitely a narcissist). I think feeling under-appreciated is actually a very strong motivation for Magnifico as a character-turning-villain, and it works very well. It’s justified based on what we’ve seen on screen so far: he feels under-appreciated (even though he’s decidedly not—the town adores him), he snaps and acts irrationally under stress (as seen with his outburst with Asha), and he’s frustrated that people seem to want more from him (again, as seen with his conversation with Asha in Act I).
But then… he opens the book.
Ah, the book. As an object on screen, we know that it's filled with ancient and evil magic, well-known to be cursed by every relevant character in the film, and kept well-secured under lock and key. But what does it stand for in the context of the narrative's structure? A quick path to power? We're never told that it has any redeeming qualities; Magnifico himself doesn't seem to know what he's looking for when he opens it. It feels... convenient.
I think it's also worth noting that he only turns to the book when he's alone; once again, the idea of connection and community rears it's ugly head! Earlier in the film, Amaya-- his wife-- is present and turns him away from taking that path. In her absence, he makes the wrong choice.
This decision could make sense; it contains powerful magic, and if it were framed in such a way that the people of Rosas were losing faith in Magnifico’s magic, as if what he can do might not be enough anymore after what they felt from Star, going for the book that we know contains spells that go above and beyond what he can already do would be logical. Along the lines of, “If they’re not happy with what I do for them, fine. I, ever the “martyr”, will do the unthinkable for you, because you want more.”
It would keeps with the idea that Magnifico believes he's still trying to help people, but his motivation has taken his self-imposed pity party and turned it into resentment and spite.
But, that’s not the case. Instead he talks about reversing that “light”, which has had no real negative or tangible consequences on Rosas. Everyone had a warm feeling for a few seconds. Again, it’s meant to paint him as a vain control freak, but… he hasn’t lost any power. The citizens of Rosas even assume the great showing of magic was Magnifico.
Act III
Then, we get to the consequences of opening the book (and perhaps my biggest qualm with this film). The book is established as being cursed. Magnifico knows it, Asha knows it, and Amaya—who is introduced as loyal-- knows it. The characters understand his behavior is a direct result of the book, and search for a way to save him. This is only the focus of the film for a few seconds, but if you think about it, the fact that his own wife cannot find a way to free him of the curse he’s been put under is unbelievably tragic. Worse still, upon discovering there is no way to reverse the curse, Magnifico—the king who built the city & “protected it” in his own flawed way for what seems to be centuries—is thrown out by his wife. You know, the wife who's stood loyal at his side for years?
It’s played for laughs, but there’s something unsettling about a character who’s clearly and explicitly under the influence of a malevolent entity being left… unsaved. If you follow the idea of Magnifico being disconnected from community being a driving force behind his arc, the end of the film sees him in a worse situation he was in at the start: truly, fully alone.
They bring in so many opportunities for Magnifico to be sympathetic and act as a foil for Asha; he’s jaded, she’s not. He’s overly cautious (even paranoid), she’s a risk-taker. He turns to power/magic at his lowest point, Asha turns to her friends at her lowest point. Because this dichotomy isn’t present, and Magnifico—who should be redeemable—isn’t, the film is so much weaker than it could’ve been. The lack of a strong core dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist echoes through every facet of the film from the music to the characterization to the pacing, and I believe if Magnifico had been more consistent, the film would’ve greatly improved across the board.
I mean, come on! Imagine if at the end of the film, Asha—who, if you remember, did resonate with Magnifico’s values at the start of the film—recognizes that he's twisted his original ideals and urges him to see the value in the people he’s helped, in their ingenuity, in their gratitude, & that what he was able to do before was enough. Going further, asking what his wish is or was—likely something he’s never been asked— and showing empathy! We’d come full circle to the start of the film where Asha asks him to grant her wish.
Pushing that further, if Magnifico’s wish is to see Rosas flourish or to be a good/beloved king, he'd have the the opportunity to see the value in failing and how pursuing the dream is its own complex and valuable journey, and how not even he is perfect.
The curse and the book (which, for the purposes of this adjustment, would need to be established as representing the idea of stepping on others to further your own goals/the fast way to success), then serve as the final antagonist, that same curse taking root in the people of Rosas who’ve had their dreams destroyed, and Asha works with the community to quell it. Asha’s learned her lesson, so has Magnifico, and the true source of evil in the film—the book—is handled independently. Magnifico steps back from his role as King, Amaya still ends up as Queen, and Asha takes her place as the new wish-granter.
This route could even give us the true “Disney villain” everyone’s craving; giving the book sentience and having it lure Magnifico in during “This is the Thanks I Get!?” leaves it as its own chaotic evil entity.
All in all, Magnifico's introduction paved a road to redemption that the rest of the film aggressively refused to deliver on, instead doubling down on weaker motivations that seem to appear out of thin air. Once the audience thinks, hey, that bad guy might have a point, the protagonist has to do a little more heavy lifting to convince us they're wrong.
Look at the big-bad-greats from Disney's library. There isn't a point in the Lion King where we pause and think, "Wait a second, maybe Scar should be the guy who rules the Pridelands." Ursula from the Little Mermaid, though motivated by her banishment from King Triton's Seas, never seems to be the right gal for the throne. Maybe Maleficent doesn't get invited to the princess's birthday party, but we don't watch her curse a baby and think, Yeah, go curse that baby, that's a reasonable response to getting left out.
What do they all have in common? Their motivation is simple, their goal is clear, and they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of what they want.
Magnifico simply doesn't fall into that category. He's motivated by the idea of losing power, which is never a clear or impactful threat. His goal at the start seems to be to protect Rosas, then it turns into protecting his own power, and then-- once he's corrupted-- he wants to capture Star. The problem is, there's no objective to put this power toward. Power for power's sake is useless. Scar craves power because he feels robbed of status. Ursula believes the throne is rightfully hers. Maleficent wanted to make a statement. Magnifico... well, I'm not really sure.
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Vox x Reader Relationship Headcanons
This post contains SPOILERS in the sense that it is based off of the version of Vox as presented in episode 2. None of the actual plot points featured within are discussed. notes: background vox x valentino / polyamory (reader only dates vox), extremely unhealthy relationships, stalking, manipulation, hypnosis, power imbalance. kidnapping + physical abuse mention (neither done by vox)
To catch the eye of a demon as powerful as Vox is not an ideal situation. While he could be considered more levelheaded than your average demon, and certainly is when compared to his associates, he still has things that rile him up like no other. No, he doesn’t have a whole string of sexual partners to use and abuse like Valentino does, but that makes the weight of his gaze all the more crushing when it does fall upon someone.
Once you’ve got his interest, it’s practically impossible to slip away from him. He’s got vantage points all across the Pride Ring, being able to slip in and out of its many scattered screens with ease. While the usual tracking Vox Media subjects its customers to is already an invasion of privacy, yours would be on a whole other level.
With how inescapable his company is amongst Sinner demons, it’s more than likely you’ve at least got some kind of device he’d be able to peer into. As soon as your phone is being plugged into a port, he’d be skimming through your messages and search history. Though your face-to-face meetings might have been minimal or non-existent at this point, he would already know far more about you than most of your friends. …You should really clear out your search history more often. But, hey, he’s not unhappy about it! There’s no traces of his presence as soon as he’s done.
Vox cares a great deal about his reputation and image. Not only because he’s the very face of a high-earning brand, but it is also simply the kind of person he is. Whereas someone like Valentino might have gone right ahead and shot any possible partner in the head, Vox is much more careful than that. What would people think, if he simply went around and started electrocuting a bunch of unknowns to death? No, that’s just not his way of doing things whatsoever.
Even besides that, there’s also much more satisfaction in it, to him, to convince you to leave them and join him, of your own accord. Vox has always been the brain behind all operations, the meticulous and thoughtful one, the one who got investors on board and appeared in interviews. In other words, he’s become quite good with words, and can easily come off as charming whenever he so wishes. That is exactly the way he will present himself to you, at least at first: a demon unlike other demons, practically a gentleman.
You wouldn’t have known him from his early days, the time where he still made mistakes, and nobody knew his name. When he invites you over for dinner (through an email that you’re convinced is fake spam, the first couple of times you receive it), he wants to appear nothing but infallible and powerful to you. You, who is only familiar with him through screens, as a flawless news presenter, gameshow host, and much more. A smile would never leave his screen, and he is constantly courteous.
He’s got a couple of expensive gifts at the ready as well, ones that hail from his own company. Perhaps it’s the newest iteration in his own line of phones, or a brand-new kind of security system. He’ll wave off any kind of dismissal of his gift, telling to just take it, you don’t even know how many of those he has lying around! Trust him. (In fact, they are modified to grant him even more easy access into your life. A constant stream of information directed at him, with Vox never even having to enter your device anymore.)
In a place like the Pride Ring in Hell, existence is demeaning at best, and utterly miserable at worst, for the average demon. Vox is more than aware of this and, at first, doesn’t even try his absolute best to sweep you off your feet. The power and the safety net someone such as himself would provide would be more than enough for most people. For the average demon, time spent by his side would be a vast improvement, and no one can deny that.
And, in this case, he is most likely interested in someone with far less power than him: you. Whether actively aware of it or not, and if he was, he’d never admit it, a part of Vox desires to be with someone from whom affection comes more easily. And that is… Not Valentino. Not that he’d ever separate from him, mind you, you’d simply be the antithesis to him. If you aren’t, he’ll make you something closer to that.
One of the largest drawbacks that immediately becomes noticeable, is the political target spending time around Vox makes you. Whether he purposefully makes the two of you appear in Hell’s largest tabloid, or only goes someplace where the two of you are sure to be spotted, you’ll surely become a demon worthy of kidnapping after this. It is exactly this, and the fear that comes along with it, that Vox would weaponize against you.
Wouldn’t it be much better, and safer, to stay in one of the company’s buildings? You’re bound to get kidnapped anywhere else, you know. He’s just looking out for you! Really though, he’d never let something like that happened to you. Not only because such an occurence would cause his reputation to take a great hit, but also because he cares! The praises he heaps on top of you are never outright lies, though some are perhaps exaggerated. He wouldn’t spend so much time on a demon he wasn’t genuinely interested in.
Vox, to the vast majority of people, would come on too strong, and too fast. The kind of attention that comes from someone who hasn’t been denied anything in a long time. At the same time, underneath his collected demeanor, seen in his stalking and meticulous collection of information, there is something that could be seen as a glimmer of desperation.
One might stop and think that, if he truly were as capable and faultless as he makes himself out to be, why would he go through all of this trouble? Wouldn’t simply being himself, or something rather close to it, be enough? This is truly where the heart of the issue, his deeply-hidden insecurity, shines through. Besides just the way the thought of being rejected by you upsets him, as well as he tries to hide it, he can’t simply back out, now that he’s spent so much time around you. He’d never live it down.
If, for some reason, ‘diplomacy’ and his usual wooing doesn’t work… He’s an Overlord for a reason. He still has plenty of tricks left up his sleeve. He can manipulate any digital image he wants, including video, without ever touching editing software. Vox can show you the people closest to you saying outright brutal things about you, with their exact mannerisms and voice. All data gathered through the various devices of his he owns, then capable of creating replicas. In a limited way, he can bend reality to his will.
If even that doesn’t work, he has his powers of hypnosis as a last resort. In this case, he doesn’t like having to use them, would have preferred the satisfaction over getting you to fawn over him all on your own… But it’s just so much easier to plant a little trigger inside your brain. For him to snap his fingers, and have you become more agreeable. Your thoughts growing that tiniest bit hazier, your head the slightest bit heavier.
All you have to do is look into his eyes, and take a deep breath… That’s better, isn’t it? What were you even getting so upset about before, huh? (And again, hypnosis is a last resort here. He’s spent so many years dealing with Valentino’s temper tantrums that he’s an expert at diffusing any kind of argument, and nothing surprises anymore.)
Vox wouldn’t be likely to physically hurt you at all. He sees himself as being capable of more self-control than that, even when in the throes of jealousy. Really, the one you should be most afraid of during this entire ordeal is Valentino. While their relationship is by no means monogamous, and it never will be, he’s still used to being the center of attention. He uses violence and unpredictability to have Vox, largely, at his every beck and call. While Vox isn’t used to having denied things, Valentino’s is many times worse about it.
Initially, he ignores you. Designating you as some kind of fling, not even worthy of being one of his whores, soon ready to be forgotten. Vox doesn’t do those kinds of things all that often but, hey, anything’s bound to happen with an eternity of time to kill, right? It’s only when you become a more permanent fixture in their life that he really becomes more of a threat.
He’ll let his temper cut loose, specifically during times where the two of you are spending time together, causing mayhem around the company. If Vox’s attention is entirely unwanted, this may even be a welcome reprieve for you. Still, Valentino being jealous of you should be about the last thing you want. Frankly, it makes you liable to get shot on a bad day, or because of a poorly worded comment.
…Perhaps it would be better to stay close to Vox, then.
#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#vox hazbin hotel x reader#yandere#hazbin hotel#cha.vox#cw.stalking#cw.hypnosis
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THE WORLD'S FIRST ELECTRIC ROLLER COASTER
Granville T. Woods (April 23, 1856 – January 30, 1910) introduced the “Figure Eight,” the world's first electric roller coaster, in 1892 at Coney Island Amusement Park in New York. Woods patented the invention in 1893, and in 1901, he sold it to General Electric.
Woods was an American inventor who held more than 50 patents in the United States. He was the first African American mechanical and electrical engineer after the Civil War. Self-taught, he concentrated most of his work on trains and streetcars.
In 1884, Woods received his first patent, for a steam boiler furnace, and in 1885, Woods patented an apparatus that was a combination of a telephone and a telegraph. The device, which he called "telegraphony", would allow a telegraph station to send voice and telegraph messages through Morse code over a single wire. He sold the rights to this device to the American Bell Telephone Company.
In 1887, he patented the Synchronous Multiplex Railway Telegraph, which allowed communications between train stations from moving trains by creating a magnetic field around a coiled wire under the train. Woods caught smallpox prior to patenting the technology, and Lucius Phelps patented it in 1884. In 1887, Woods used notes, sketches, and a working model of the invention to secure the patent. The invention was so successful that Woods began the Woods Electric Company in Cincinnati, Ohio, to market and sell his patents. However, the company quickly became devoted to invention creation until it was dissolved in 1893.
Woods often had difficulties in enjoying his success as other inventors made claims to his devices. Thomas Edison later filed a claim to the ownership of this patent, stating that he had first created a similar telegraph and that he was entitled to the patent for the device. Woods was twice successful in defending himself, proving that there were no other devices upon which he could have depended or relied upon to make his device. After Thomas Edison's second defeat, he decided to offer Granville Woods a position with the Edison Company, but Woods declined.
In 1888, Woods manufactured a system of overhead electric conducting lines for railroads modeled after the system pioneered by Charles van Depoele, a famed inventor who had by then installed his electric railway system in thirteen United States cities.
Following the Great Blizzard of 1888, New York City Mayor Hugh J. Grant declared that all wires, many of which powered the above-ground rail system, had to be removed and buried, emphasizing the need for an underground system. Woods's patent built upon previous third rail systems, which were used for light rails, and increased the power for use on underground trains. His system relied on wire brushes to make connections with metallic terminal heads without exposing wires by installing electrical contactor rails. Once the train car had passed over, the wires were no longer live, reducing the risk of injury. It was successfully tested in February 1892 in Coney Island on the Figure Eight Roller Coaster.
In 1896, Woods created a system for controlling electrical lights in theaters, known as the "safety dimmer", which was economical, safe, and efficient, saving 40% of electricity use.
Woods is also sometimes credited with the invention of the air brake for trains in 1904; however, George Westinghouse patented the air brake almost 40 years prior, making Woods's contribution an improvement to the invention.
Woods died of a cerebral hemorrhage at Harlem Hospital in New York City on January 30, 1910, having sold a number of his devices to such companies as Westinghouse, General Electric, and American Engineering. Until 1975, his resting place was an unmarked grave, but historian M.A. Harris helped raise funds, persuading several of the corporations that used Woods's inventions to donate money to purchase a headstone. It was erected at St. Michael's Cemetery in Elmhurst, Queens.
LEGACY
▪Baltimore City Community College established the Granville T. Woods scholarship in memory of the inventor.
▪In 2004, the New York City Transit Authority organized an exhibition on Woods that utilized bus and train depots and an issue of four million MetroCards commemorating the inventor's achievements in pioneering the third rail.
▪In 2006, Woods was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame.
▪In April 2008, the corner of Stillwell and Mermaid Avenues in Coney Island was named Granville T. Woods Way.
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imagine pornstar javi having an only fans 😩
girl i'd subscribe so fast
oh hell yeah nonnie, me too... top subscriber, working 3 jobs just to support this sexy man. who's with me?! 🙂↕️ tagging @miss-oranje-disco-dancer & @almostempty because duhhh 🖤 i hope i did this justice!
tags: f!reader, smut babes, onlyfans!javi let's gooo, he talks you through it, dirty talk duh, masturbation (f&m), use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart, muñeca, bella), roleplaying (?), i have no idea how OF works so just vibe with me, everyone say thank you to your bestie, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 3.1k w/c
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You frown as you read the message preview sent from your best friend. Your eyes flit up to check the time.
It’s barely past two in the morning. Does this bitch ever sleep? Granted— you’re also up late.
You tap on the notification before it disappears, going into your message thread with her and you see the link attached to her horny message.
why are you sending me unsolicited dick pics at 2 am? what would your man think of this?
She replies right away.
first of all i don’t have a man second of all it’s a video and just please go watch it
You’re confused by that first message since she was just raving about this guy she met at her job but you let it go, tapping on the link and waiting for safari to open it up.
The OnlyFans website loads and prompts you to log in before continuing. You go back to your messages.
tabling the i don’t have a man convo for another time can’t see it because i don’t have an account
She’s quick to send you her log in and you laugh out loud— of course she’s a registered user.
You type in her email and password, patiently waiting before the post she sent you loads and your eyes widen.
Just the thumbnail has you intrigued. A man, dressed in a tailored navy suit sans the jacket and tie, the fabric of his white collared shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
The title reads: Late Night at the Office.
The transparent play button teases you, almost daring you to give in to the intrigue.
So you tap it.
It begins with the mystery man seated, the frame capturing him from the tip of his strong nose down to the top of his thighs. His features are striking from what you can see— plump, pink lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, adding a hint of rugged sophistication to his appearance.
His legs are spread wide, unapologetically taking up space, the rich leather of the chair creaking subtly beneath him. His thighs strain against the fabric of his suit pants.
There’s something about the way he sits, so sure of himself, so confident in his own skin, that draws your eye immediately to the center of the frame. One hand rests lazily on his thigh, the other cradles a phone, as if he’s deep into an intimate call. His eyes, though hidden, seem locked on you through the screen, pulling you deeper into his fantasy.
And then, he speaks.
“Have to stay late, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
His voice slides through the speakers of your phone like liquid velvet— deep and smooth, carrying an accent that’s definitely southern but tinged with something else, wrapping itself around each word like a caress.
“Don’t be upset, doll. Let me make it up to you.”
His tone is gentle but authoritative, luring you in. The air feels charged, and despite the fact that you’re watching from behind a screen, it feels as though his words are meant for you and you alone.
“Why don’t you undress for me and lean back,” the command is soft yet irresistible.
Your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp you weren’t expecting, as your thighs instinctively press together beneath the plush comforter, seeking some form of relief from the growing ache.
It’s as if he has some kind of power over you, the pull in his voice coaxing you into compliance. Your skin prickles with anticipation as you glance around your quiet studio apartment, almost instinctively checking if anyone might be watching; like your best friend who lured you into this horny trap in the first place.
But of course, there’s no one else here— just you and his low, hypnotic voice filling the space around you.
You pause it, antsy fingers reaching for the hem of your nighttime slip dress, the soft fabric sliding effortlessly off your skin then being tossed aside. Propping your phone up with a decorative pillow at the edge of the bed, you angle it so you’re able to see him perfectly.
You feel a rush of warmth, excitement, as you resume the video and settle back against the mountain of pillows behind you.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day, baby,” he murmurs, his tone low and husky, the faintest edge of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t stop picturing you, lying in bed… all warm and soft, just waiting for me to take care of you.”
Your lips part instinctively, tongue grazing the corner as you feel the pull of lust tightening in your core. Your nipples, already taut from the cool air in your space, ache for attention.
You shift, thighs rubbing together again, unable to stop your body’s response. His voice feels like it’s seeping directly into your skin, making it impossible to sit still.
“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he orders so tenderly and impossible to refuse. “Slowly, sweetheart. Just run your fingers over those soft thighs of yours… don’t rush.”
You obey, hands traversing down the length of your torso until they’re at your thighs, fingertips grazing your skin lightly as you follow his instructions. Your breath hitches again, heart beating louder in your ears as his voice continues to weave around you, wrapping you in the intimacy of the moment.
“That’s it,” he purrs, “Let me hear those little gasps. I want you to think of my hands doing that for you. Think of me sliding my fingers up and down your beautiful body… teasing you.”
And so you do. You think of his larger, surely rougher touch at your inner thighs. The growing pressure at the apex of your legs builds with every syllable, but it’s not just his voice that has you derailing.
It’s everything.
As the camera lingers on him, you watch his free hand move to the top button of his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate precision as he undoes it then the ones that follow. His movements are slow, taunting you as the shirt falls open, exposing the smooth, muscled lines of his chest.
“You want to see more, don’t you?” he asks the camera, and the teasing edge in his voice makes your clit twitch. “I’ll show you, baby. But you need to keep touching yourself for me. I want you to feel how wet I get you. Imagine me right there, taking care of that aching little cunt of yours.”
He’s intoxicating, and as he slips another button open, revealing more of his firm, toned chest, you slip your hand to your pussy, your body begging for more. You can almost feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way he’s undressing for you, the slow reveal of what you’re aching to see.
He’s unhurried, intentional— he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to keep you, the viewer, on edge.
“Let me hear you,” he commands, fingers grazing his buckle now, threatening to undo his belt. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to touch you… how much you need me.”
His words have a gush of arousal leaking from your cunt, a whine pushing past your lips as you lightly run a finger down the seam of your folds.
“Need you so bad,” you murmur to yourself, not caring that there’s no one there to hear you, no one in the room but the phantom of his presence. He’s completely transported you into another world, and you’re too far gone to feel any shame in talking to him as if he’s right there in front of you— or over the phone with how he’s set this scene up.
All he’s done is talk, but it’s enough to render you a puddled mess. The heat licking at your core is undeniable, each instruction winding you tighter.
You can’t help but wonder— are you really this starved for a good fuck, or is this faceless stranger just that skilled at weaving desire into every syllable?
His deep, commanding tone oozes with intention, a carefully crafted tease that seeps through the screen. It’s clear he’s an expert at this— at knowing exactly how to pull you in and leave you aching for more. Now, your curiosity is piqued; what other sinful content could he possibly have on his page?
It suddenly makes perfect sense why your friend is subscribed to him. The moment you come, you know you’ll be rushing to make an account of your own, no hesitation, ready to drain your bank account if it means getting more of him— every cent worth it just to see what else he can do to you.
He’s catering to something raw, drawing out a fantasy you didn’t even realize you had.
“I need you just as bad. Real fuckin’ shame I’m stuck at the office… my cock misses you, sweetheart.”
Your breath quickens as the clink of his belt being undone echoes through the speaker, slipping the leather free from its loops, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of his dick, thick and prominent beneath the tailored slacks.
The sight sends a surge of heat through your body, your skin prickling with desire, yearning for more.
His fingers toy with the waistband of his pants now, brushing tantalizingly close to the bulge straining against the fabric, teasing both you and himself with the promise of what’s to come.
His voice is low and seductive, dripping like molten honey, each word striking you like a touch.
“I wish I could be in bed with you right now,” he grunts, and you swear you can feel his eyes locked on you through the screen, as if he can see every inch of your trembling body. “You have no idea how badly I want to worship you… feel your skin against mine. I’d start slow. My lips, my hands, they’d be everywhere. I’d make you come so many times it’d make you stupid.”
You moan, finally dipping two of your fingers between your wet folds and massaging at your clit, spreading your slick all over.
“Go head, play with that pretty little pussy. Use your other hand to touch on those perfect fuckin’ tits of yours.”
Your free hand instinctively goes up to cup your breast as you imagine him there with you, his body pressing you into the mattress, lips tracing over every inch until he’s suckling on your pert nipples then moving down to where you need him most.
“I want to taste you,” he continues, his fingers popping the button of his pants then the zipper, “Feel you quivering on my tongue, feel you melt on my fingers as I fuck them into that tight cunt. I won't stop until you’re shaking, begging me to let you breathe.”
His hand slips beneath the fabric as he shifts in his seat, and you can see the subtle movements of him touching himself. The sight alone takes your breath away, the need coiling inside you, growing unbearable as your own fingers pick up the pace, rubbing the sensitive flesh while your other hand works to pinch and tug at your nipple.
“And when I finally break you, sweetheart,” he whispers, sending shivers all throughout your body, “when you’re crying, trembling… pleading me to stop, that’s when I’ll slide my cock inside. You’d be so full, so wet, and I wouldn’t stop until I’ve reminded you who you belong to, until I’ve had you again and again. Until you’re stuffed so full of my cum that it’s leaking out of your fuckin’ mouth.”
He finally pulls his dick out and you gasp loudly. It’s fucking beautiful. Thick, long, a few shades lighter than the brown skin of his chest with a glistening pearl of precum right at his slit. He spreads it around the crown of his cock and you salivate, imagining how good the weight of him would feel on your tongue.
Yummy in-fucking-deed.
“Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, then stick two into your pretty mouth and suck on them.”
You do as you’re told, sinking two into your fluttering entrance while the ones at your tit slip into your mouth, eyes fluttering close as you suck on them like they’re his cock. It feels so good, your thumb pressed up against your clit— the stickiness of your arousal aiding your fingers in pumping in and out of you.
The sound of him spitting snaps you from the mini daze, pulling your attention lazily back to the screen. There he is— his large hand wrapped tightly around the thick length of his cock, glistening and throbbing as he begins to stroke it languidly.
“Got me so hard,” he grunts, his voice thick with lust, “just picturing you with your fingers in your mouth like a good little slut.” His grip on the phone by his ear tightens, you can tell by the way his knuckles become flushed and you whimper.
“Choke on them,” he growls, “Let me hear you gag.”
Obedient as ever, you push your digits past your tongue and deeper, your breath growing ragged. The moment they hit the back of your throat, you gag, the wet sound loud and raw in the quiet of your apartment.
You sputter around them repeatedly, eyes filling with tears. Choking sounds echoing off the walls, bouncing back at you in a symphony of depravity. Saliva pools in then out of your mouth, dripping down your chin, and the mess of it only heightens the filthy pleasure coursing through you.
You can feel how slick you are, the sheets beneath you now damp from your horniness, every fiber of your being aching for release.
His pace on the screen quickens, the sound of his bated breath mingles with the obscene smacking of his fist against the skin of his cock, grunting between strokes. His dick looks even bigger as it pulses in his grip, thick and veined and covered in his spit.
“Bet you’re dripping for me,” his words are strained. “I can just picture it… how wet you are, soaking those sheets. Can’t wait to hear you come undone for me, baby.”
Your fingers, still wet from the mess of your mouth, slide down your body, grazing over your hard nipples before switching with the ones between your legs, where your pussy is throbbing. You moan at your own heady taste, the relief of your saliva soaked digits in your cunt almost overwhelming.
The tension builds, every stroke of his hand matching the movement of your fingers, the friction pushing you closer to the edge.
“Ahhh yesyesyes— just like that.” You whine, removing your fingers from your mouth and bringing them down to your nipples again to pinch and pull; anything to heighten the already intense pleasure you’re feeling.
The room feels thick with sexual tension, the filthy sounds of your wetness mix with his groans through the speakers, creating an intoxicating melody that pushes you further into your own climax.
“I’d have your pussy stretched out so good,” he continues, hand tightening around his cock as he pumps faster now, thrusting his hips upwards. “Have you feeling me for days… filling your sweet cunt until all you can do is squirt all over this cock.”
The things you’d do to make that happen. To have him bend and twist and fuck you in a myriad of pleasurable positions. To feel the thickness of his dick leaving you sore and hurting, absolutely helpless. These desires send you careening toward the edge.
“C’mon baby, give it to me.”
Your fingers move faster, abusing your cunt as your hips buck into your hand. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as your whole body tightens.
You can feel it coming, that sweet rush of pleasure towering over you, until it crashes down in a wave so intense, you cry out.
“Oh fuck!”
You spasm, back arching off the bed as your digits do all the right moves, chasing the high. In a flood of pure ecstasy, your pussy pulses and clenches, a gush of wetness soaking the sheets as you come hard, giving in to the overwhelming euphoria.
Drool leaks from your mouth like a feral animal, your chest heaving, and your eyes lock on the screen, pupils dilated, watching as he strokes himself through his own climax, his voice thick with satisfaction.
“Good girl,” he breathes, his cock twitching in his hand, thick ropes of his milky cum spilling over his fist as he finishes. “Made a mess all over my lap. Wish you were here to lick it up. Getting to feel that wicked tongue of yours on my spent cock would be like fucking heaven, mi muñeca bella.”
Just when you thought he couldn’t get any fucking sexier; he goes and speaks fucking Spanish. You’re in love.
You’re left exhausted, trembling, and utterly satisfied. Your body hums with the aftershocks, still riding the wave of your orgasm, and all you can do is lie there.
Your fingers lazily tracing the wet mess between your thighs, hissing at the sensitivity, as you catch your breath, the screen flickering with his smirking lips.
“I’ll be home soon,” he purrs, “Take a nap so I can wake you up by burying my tongue inside that used pussy.”
A shiver runs down your spine, and you let out a frustrated sigh, wishing— desperately— that this wasn’t just a video, but reality. A real call from a real man, someone who could be on their way to you right now. You stare at his disheveled, post-climax appearance on the screen for a moment longer before the video fades out, the last remnants of fantasy slowly dissolving as you blink yourself back to reality.
You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, muscles still quivering, and bend down to pick up your slip dress, your legs wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to clean up.
oh my fucking god that was amazing
You text your friend once you’re back in bed, having pulled off the loose sheet that you ruined and thankful that it didn’t seep through to the fitted one.
right? i need him so bad you should see some of his other stuff. fucking gold you’re welcome 💋
You scoff, a breathy laugh, as you ‘HAHA’ react to her message. Still, her words stick with you as you open the browser, logging out of her account. The curiosity from before tugs at you harder than ever now, and without a second thought, you find yourself signing up for your own subscription.
When the prompt to choose a username appears, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard until a sly smile spreads across your lips.
@muneca_bella
Perfect.
#javier pena smut#javier peña smut#javier peña x reader#javier pena x reader#pedro pascal smut#📞 next caller!#kat's writing.
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long-distance love.
yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, phone sex, obsession, power imbalance, kidnapping, implied (cyber)stalking, non-con touching, characters written as 18+ note - sea witch, the magicord mod you've had intimate online relations with, is closer than you thought.
Sea Witch is a busy man.
His weekly schedules are almost always packed to bursting, each event meticulously arranged into open slots as if aiming to form a perfect puzzle. Times never conflict; he’s particular about how he spends his hours, and very rarely does he allow himself a break. It has always been work, work, work. He’s one of the city’s most affluent, eligible bachelors and yet he’s married to his business. Those who lust after him think it’s a wasteful shame. Azul finds it to be a relief far greater than any he’s ever known. He will never compromise the enterprise he’s built from the ground up just because of some flimsy, fickle feelings.
Originally, he had no interest in Magicord, a messaging platform that grants people from all over the world the chance to congregate on specific servers for mutual interests like anime and gaming. He only downloaded it because Idia Shroud, a fellow friend and business partner, lived and breathed the app, his online presence so profound it was almost like a second home. He’d swipe away notifications from his actual messaging app, too busy in a voice call with his group of dungeon raiders to bother answering important calls.
So he resolved to get on Idia’s level in hopes of improving communication. Although Idia’s level, as Azul often noted, was not exactly a place he wanted to be. While Magicord could be used for business purposes, that wasn’t what drew people in. Azul of all people knew very well which target audiences were being reached with apps like Magicord, and he was not one of them.
“To think I’d stoop as low as this,” Azul had once groused over a phone call with Idia, who was giving him quite a lengthy, not-very-needed-but-also-very-much-needed rundown on Magicord’s inner workings. “I hardly have time to play games, let alone socialize on this…app.”
“Aren’t you always going on about how adaptable you are?” Idia sniped back, not in the mood for normie criticism. The sound of clacking keys could be heard on his end. “And you’re the one who asked. Kinda defeats the purpose of learning if you’re just gonna complain.”
Azul rolled his eyes. “I fail to see the logic in downloading another app just to ensure my messages reach you. Honestly, you ought to start checking your email. Or, at the very least, go through your missed call and text logs.”
Alas, Idia had been stubbornly adamant about his preferences and so, much to his displeasure, Azul was forced to undergo something of a Magicord Training Camp until he emerged a pro. And being a pro meant knowing how to navigate his own profile and toggle between that and Idia’s, which was really the only tip he needed because that was all he’d use the app for.
But Azul has always had an innate itch for wanting to know something from top to bottom, inside-out, and the idea of not knowing every little detail about Magicord drove him insane. If there was an opportunity he could capitalize on, why should he risk squandering it with his elementary-level knowledge? So he spent his rare slivers of free time playing around in there, creating a server and wondering who could ever become so attached to an app when the world beyond the screen was filled with just as many, if not more, social encounters.
His introverted side understood the appeal. In fact, he loved the idea of hiding behind a manufactured persona online. He didn’t have to be Azul Ashengrotto on Magicord. Rather, he could rid himself of his dislikable traits and become an entity—an idea or a concept—rather than a flawed man who others might scrutinize ruthlessly.
So he became Sea Witch, and within just a week he’d constructed quite the comfortable server. The invite link was spread throughout the various branches of Mostro. It would provide employees with an online sanctuary, where they could easily connect should doing so in person prove complicated (as had been the case regarding Idia, which was the sole reason he’d even poured so much time into this effort). Most of all, it gave Azul the chance to keep watch from afar, silently sitting in wait and curating a collection of mostly unimportant intel. Mere gossip, if anything.
But gossip is just as good as the next scandal. He likes to be prepared, a razored edge on all sides.
As far as the company was concerned, no one knew who this Sea Witch character was and no one knew who spread the link. And as far as individual employees knew, this was likely just some overworked intern’s labor of love—a well-crafted server intended to function as a digital gathering place for those exhausted after a long day. And that was mostly true, but all of the potential blackmail he could gather, the information he could glean, and even the people he could keep a closer eye on in an online setting—all of that paled in comparison to the real prize he’d attained. This was of great importance. It was something that altered the course of his life, opened his eyes to the brilliant beauty of a first love.
It was there in that undersea-themed haven where he met you, the one who would add flavorful spice to the once bland, boring meal that was his life. And just after a few weeks of simple, cordial conversation, he realized a single taste of your kind companionship wouldn’t be enough to sate him.
Greedy to a fault, Azul wanted you in your entirety.
Which brings him to the present, where he’s currently leaning back into the expensive leather of his driver’s seat. He’s parked on a silent strip of road, in a more residential part of the city. It’s not very busy here, and his windows are tinted to avoid immediate recognition. Rush hour won’t hit until later, and he’s not due for any conferences. He has time. Plenty of it to spare on this little excursion.
“I wanna meet you, Sea Witch,” you admit, nearly whining through the phone. “Where’re you from? Maybe we’re in the same area.”
Azul smiles at your impatience. You just can’t get enough of him, can you?
Every weekend, you hop into a VC with him and chat for hours on end. At first he simply provided a listening ear when you wished to rant through text or call. You’d voice all sorts of complaints. Azul filed them away in the event that they might be useful in the future, initially intending to use such information to ruin you should you prove to be someone worth ruining. But the more he spent listening and scrawling notes on blank paper, the more he realized you were just overworked and struggling financially.
Upon making these connections and learning all sorts of facts from you regarding your life beyond Magicord, he felt compelled to help. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course, ever the benevolent saint. And you weren’t complaining when he offered to pay you for your time. In exchange for two hours of conversation, he’d provide you with the funds you needed to afford your necessities.
Somehow, throughout many months of give and take—with his giving being on the jaw-droppingly exorbitant side, always one to top his own ludicrous generosity—your hours-long conversations would sink beneath the surface of mere companionship. It was one-sided intimacy. Azul was careful with what he shared, building a mostly secretive profile for himself. He didn’t want to risk tarnishing your fondness for Sea Witch by sharing details that felt more like Azul and less like the effortlessly funny, charming, and eloquent Magicord mod you’d originally made contact with.
You didn’t seem to worry about compromising your own privacy, easily divulging a variety of fun tidbits about your life. You’d share the tiniest of details and he’d eat it up every time, hungering for more than just crumbs. That time you sent him a photo of the octopus macarons you’d bought from a local bakery because you were thinking of him? He remembers it well, and he’s constantly reminded of it when you text him about things you did over the weekend or hobbies you basked in. Sending photos of your houseplants, asking him for his opinion on clothes you were hoping to buy (which he was always more than willing to sponsor; all you needed to do was send the link and he’d purchase it), and even trusting him enough to fall asleep in the VC with him (arguably one of his favorite things about your unique relationship).
And he called it unique not because it was a bad sort of strange. Rather, it was unique in the refreshing sense. He’d never had an online friend before, let alone someone who would so willingly and readily indulge him. Granted, this willingness stemmed from the deal he’d cut with you and so you were really only doing these things for your own gain. But then so was he. It was a relationship built upon necessity. You needed money to survive, and he needed you.
So it was okay to fall into sleazy fantasies. It was all an act anyway, and it wasn’t like you judged him or his preferences. At least, not outright. If you did, it was silent. You were considerate and sweet; and you really did consider him a friend. Or so he hoped. If your casual conversations were any proof, it was obvious there was some sort of enjoyment and trust there.
Friendship or something more, he would have you. Whether that meant in the safety of his pocket, enclosed within his mobile phone forever, or in his penthouse, tucked away in his bedroom—he’d have you.
“I’m from a city, yes,” he answers, purposely cryptic.
“Obviously. Come onnn, Witchy. Don’t you wanna meet me, too?”
“I do, and one day we’ll meet. I promise.”
He listens to your irritated groan and his cock twitches in his slacks. Good god, your voice is a blessing—more heavenly than a cherubic choir.
“One day isn’t today, though.”
“Perhaps not.” He speaks to distract you from the rustling fabric of his pressed suit as his hand strays further. He spies his reflection in the rearview mirror, notes the flash in his irises. If only you were here, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. If only he could slide his own seat as far back as it would go, lie still and serene, and let you climb into his lap to spear yourself on his erection. Genuine leather be damned. He wanted your scent, your essence, your everything engraved into the very interior. “Humor me—if we were to meet right now, what would you like to do?”
“Mm, I’d want to get a good look at the man I’ve been talking to for nine months now.”
“Oh, you’ve kept track?”
“You haven’t?” Your laughter is fluffy and light—authentic amusement. “And I’d want to memorize your face so that I’ll never forget it.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because I’m so curious! You know what I look like—”
“Not entirely,” he interjects, sly and silver-tongued. “You’re a portrait half-finished in my mind. Not yet sketched to completion.”
And it’s true. From your shoulders down, you are a faceless beauty. He’s seen you nearly naked and fully clothed, in frills and lace, in latex and ribbons, in satin and chiffon. And yet, for all of the skin you’ve shown, he can’t place a face (or a real name, for that matter) to your body.
“Okay, poet,” you tease, and he’s already palming himself through the fine fabric of his trousers. “But I’ve still never seen an inch of you. You’ve never even sent a dick pic.”
“You’ve never asked.”
“Can I have one now?”
“Nice try.”
“Asshole!” you gripe, clicking your tongue in disappointment. “You’re the worst, you know that?”
“I’m aware,” he hums, squeezing himself, his breath coming out faint and haggard.
Yeah, he’s the worst. But then you’re the best at eliciting these sorts of reactions from him. The effect you have on him is utterly enthralling. Your ability to reduce him to a pliable puddle in just a few words—a mere few lighthearted, hollow insults—is truly impressive. He’d feel ashamed of himself if it wasn’t so good.
“You’re probably not even that big.”
“Would you like an exact measurement?”
“Wouldn’t it be better to measure it in person? See how many inches I could fit inside. I’ve been practicing with that dildo you sent me—the one shaped like a tentacle,” you purr, frustratingly coy. He wants your sinful lips wrapped around his dick right now—wants to fuck your throat sore and raw. Wants nothing more than to spill heavy and hot on your tongue so you’ll taste him for days. “If we met up, we could make that happen. Sooo, where’s my Sea Witch from? What part of the world?”
“Patience, angelfish.”
Even though he says so, he’s practically vibrating with excitement as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon. So soon. Very, very soon.
And then…
He imagines you rolling your eyes with your next words. “Fine, fine. I’ll be patient. But that’s not gonna stop me from fantasizing.”
“Well, what do you think I look like?”
“Now isn’t that a fun question?” You mull it over. He can tell because you mutter a variety of ums and hmms in that soft, sweet voice of yours. “I think you’re tall and you have a handsome face that matches your equally handsome voice.”
“Yeah?” he encourages, undoing the belt, button, and zip on his pants one-handed. “What else?”
Your giggles filter into his ears, seeming closer than they actually are due to the wireless earbuds he’s wearing. “From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have expensive tastes.”
Sitting in his lavish, one-of-a-kind, custom-made sports car, Azul thinks you would be correct.
“I wonder what gave it away…” he drawls, his voice creeping an octave lower.
He places his phone in the cup holder, reaching to open the glove compartment and retrieving a tiny bottle of lube. Squirting a scant amount on his palm, he fishes himself, throbbing and pathetically hard, out of his boxers. His slick hand is a warm, welcome embrace around his silky-smooth shaft. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Mhm, I wonder. It’s not the fact that you told me I should just buy a designer bag for work when I asked for recommendations. And it’s certainly not your ability to get me lots of nice gifts as if it’s nothing. So maybe it’s just your excessive generosity that makes you seem so rich?”
“Sure, we’ll go with that.”
“Speaking of that, what do you do for a living?”
“Guess.”
“Okay, Mr. Mysterious… Um… Hm. I think you’re a pilot.”
The whiplash that assumption brings is so seismically jarring he thinks he might go flaccid. Gripping himself with renewed vigor, he slides his fist along his length, slow and perfunctory, picturing you under his desk, your mouth open wide to receive him…
“A pilot… Mm, no, not quite.”
“Aw. My second guess was gonna be a contract killer. They make lots of money.”
“You have quite the wild imagination, angelfish. Even if I was one, do you think I’d admit that to you?”
“Maybe,” you tease. He pictures your smirk as it twists your perfect, pretty lips into something wicked. “For the right price, yeah?”
“Oh? Do elaborate.”
Please. Please keep going. Don’t stop talking. I need to hear you, closer, louder, clearer… More.
“What sort of price would I have to pay to get Sea Witch to spill his secrets?” you muse, your voice a tantalizing curl of syllables, but he suspects you already know the answer to your hypothetical. “I can’t offer you money, so you’d have to settle for something a little more…physical.”
He shivers, nodding his agreement even though you can’t see it. “Physical’s good,” he mumbles, foregoing eloquence in favor of filth. “Much better than—mm—than money…”
“Yeah? All right. Let’s see… You’re well-off and you might or might not be a contract killer. Do you wear suits?”
“I do.”
“Ooh, so you’re one of those contract killers.”
Azul can’t help it; he laughs, the sound tumbling out in a breathy gasp. “I prefer looking nice at all times.”
Languidly, his hand continues its idle pumping. He cracks his eyes open to peer at the pre-cum beading at the tip.
“Even if you’re just going to get messy?”
“Explicate the situation that’s leading me to soil my clothes. Details, angelfish.”
“Well, if you’re a killer who wears suits, you wouldn’t like even the smallest stain. It ruins your image, but if it was me…” You pause, probably for effect, and it works. His back arches with anticipation, fingers closing tighter. “You’d make an exception.”
“I would,” he admits far too quickly. “Always.”
“So you really would out yourself as a killer if I spread my legs for you?”
“No, but I’d let you dirty my suits.”
“Good. They’ll look better on the floor anyway.”
His breath hitches. Fuck, your every word is a siren’s song, leading him deeper into mist-clouded waters. He’d keep you pinned on his cock all day if he could. Why should you continue to work your mundane job when you could spend your precious hours with him instead? He’ll be your job. Seven days a week, during each of the breaks he’ll pencil into his schedules, you can visit him and he can empty all of his stress into you. And you’ll take it because you’re such an obedient sweetheart for him, always so ready to please your master.
He prays you can’t hear the salacious squelch of skin on skin as he works himself towards the edge, but a nastier part of him wants you to listen in so you’ll be reminded that this is your fault. No one else can possibly make him this messy. No one else is capable of rendering him a clumsy, lovestruck fool. You’re probably well aware of these facts, having brought him to this same edge numerous times in the past. Sometimes you would reach that tipping point alongside him, your gasps and groans joining his in an obscene duet.
Neither of you decided upon today’s development, but he thinks—knows—you’re intentionally stringing him along. You want this as much as he does.
“So was I right? You’re totally a contract killer?”
“I’m a businessman, angelfish,” he corrects, a silly, drunken smile softening his jaw. You make him feel so stupid, so warm and fond.
“So basically the same thing. Just as ruthless, no?”
“Please, you wound me. I’m always kind.”
“Ah, so there are others who get this treatment? And I thought I was the only one…”
“You are. No one could ever compare to you.”
He intends to tack my love onto the sentence’s end, but he stops himself. You’re not his love. Not really. You’re his angelfish, sure, but that’s different. That’s just a pet name befitting the aquatic theme he masquerades behind. And you’re not really Azul’s. You’re Sea Witch’s.
It’s Sea Witch you know and love. Beyond that, Azul is just Azul. And he’s nothing like the ideal he’s cultivated on Magicord.
He sighs and forces himself out of the turbulent trenches of his withering self-esteem. Now is not the time to contemplate which version of himself you’d be more preferential to.
You’ll have no choice but to love the real him. Soon.
“Really? I feel so special.” Impressed, you whistle and add, “I’ve gotta make you feel special, too.”
“You already have—”
“Not inside the VC. Come on, Sea Witch, don’t you wanna meet me?”
“I do. I really do,” he babbles dumbly, grinding his thumb into his slit and smearing pre-cum. He grits his teeth and tamps down a colorful word. How he yearns for this to be your hand wrapped around his length, tugging him to that far-off finish line. “I want nothing more than to—t-than to see you, all of you, in person…”
“So what’s stopping you? I could do a lot more in person than I can over the phone.” He has a smart reply for that, but it sticks in his throat. Pitifully, like the rightful debauched mess he is, he groans, low and guttural. “Let me turn the question on you, Sea Witch. If we were to meet today, what would you like to do to me?”
So many things, he thinks, a litany of smutty imagery flickering through his head.
But Sea Witch is classy (most days) and today is one of those instances. Or at least he’s going to make an attempt, however weak it may be.
“Take you to dinner,” he mumbles, executing jerky, quick motions in a daze, his cock weeping for release. He throws his head back, peers up at the interior roof of his car, and inhales sharply. “Take you all over the city if it pleases… I’d spoil you with so much finery—dress you up and then tear every article off…”
“And then?”
“And—god, fuck—wanna be inside you, angelfish… So badly—need you so badly. I wanna feel you and kiss you and hold you.”
He’s unraveling, strings pulled taut and fraying to extremity. Azul bucks into his hand and imagines it’s you, tight and warm, a sweet, snug embrace. He opens and closes his mouth, intending to beg you for more, but all that slips out are the tiniest huffs and grunts. He’s so wrapped up in his own ardor that he almost misses your quiet pants, every breath squeezed out of you as if you’re struggling to withhold your gratuitous moans. And it’s deplorable, really, the way his ears prick at these muffled sounds, the way his cock stands rigidly at attention, the way he’s falling through fragments of filthy fantasies, each one so close and yet impossibly far.
“I want you, too,” you mewl, tone wavering between shameless thrill and some sort of seventh heaven.
He wonders what you’re using to pleasure yourself. Are your fingers, slick and curled, rubbing up against those perfect, pretty spots that have you seeing stars? Or are you using the toys he purchased for your enjoyment? Maybe you’re lowering yourself onto the dildo right now, gummy walls clenching around girthy silicone. And maybe you’re tugging at your nipples, massaging them between the pads of your fingers, or maybe you’ve swapped skin-to-skin for a bullet vibrator instead.
Maybe—just maybe—it’s the mere thought of him that sets your flesh aflame with an intoxicating desire.
“And I want you—” you gasp, and his mind travels to all of the risqué photos you’ve sent, each one saved in a password-protected album on his phone— “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I want you to show me that no one else can compare to you. I want you to—mmh, hah—to hold me down in bed and fuck me until my legs are sore and I can’t walk.”
I will, he thinks, lashes fluttering on his cheekbones. He strokes himself quickly, chest heaving, tongue near-lolling out of his mouth as he pants like a hound in heat. I’ll do all of that and so much more. I’ll fuck every coherent thought out of your pretty head, keep you just smart enough to rely on me, turn you into the prettiest sea flower who’ll only blossom for me.
“I promise, angelfish. I promise I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” he vows, his nerves alight with lustful delight, “and you’ll never know misfortune again.”
“I—oh! I’m close, so close! Please, Sea Witch! Please don’t stop. Please fill me up and make me yours!”
The sheer vulgarity twined through amatory vehemence, coupled with his own hurried pace, has him tumbling down the slope, arousal peaking and spilling over in thick, creamy spurts. He has half a mind to catch his spend before it can ruin the pristine interior of his car, and he blinks down at the semen sullying his palm. Idly, he rubs his fingers together to test the viscosity, wondering how his fluids would look on your face, your stomach, your ass—or even pooling out of your hole in plentiful amounts.
That fantasy is enough to send blood rushing right back to his softening cock, and he wills those thoughts away with logic—complex calculations and the financial forecast for Mostro. There will be plenty of time to indulge in sexual cravings later. He reminds himself of this while he tamps down his zeal, his heart relaxing in his ribs as he sits with the slowly ebbing aftershocks of orgasm.
You seem to be doing much the same, for you’ve gone perfectly quiet.
“Everything all right, angelfish?” he whispers after a few minutes, his breath now evened out.
“Mm, yeah. All good over here. Messy, but good.”
“I’m comforted knowing we’re in the same boat.” He chuckles while fumbling to dig a cotton handkerchief from the depths of his suit jacket. He cleans the cum and residual lube from off his hands and dick before neatly tucking himself away. Soon, there will be no need for this charade. Soon, he can adore all of you from beyond the screen. “Angelfish, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”
“What’s up?” you murmur, your own voice settling into its usual cheery cadence. He suspects you’re just putting on an act to sound happier. That will change when you’re reunited in person because it will be real. Because there will be no point in pretending through the phone.
“Well…” Azul smiles, folds and unfolds the sodden handkerchief, and then straightens his posture. He should be on his way now. “Ah, it’s nothing. Never mind it. I’ll tell you later.”
“Whaaat? But you’ve made me so curious now. Don’t just leave me in suspense!”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to remain in that suspense indefinitely.”
“Ugh. You’re so annoying sometimes.”
He knows you don’t mean that.
“I’ll tell you soon, angelfish. Exercise a little patience. There’s no rush.”
“Easy for you to say. You know what it is.”
“That I do, yes.” He hums, considering his next words. “Would it help if I left you with a word of advice?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
“Um. Okay, sure. Hit me. What’s your advice?”
Azul buckles himself in, starting his car via push button. It rumbles to life, smooth and steady. “Don’t fight so much, my dear.”
“Don’t what? Sea Witch, what are you talking—”
Your words are interrupted with a startled yelp. Azul listens to the struggle as if it’s a podcast enjoyed at sunrise. Things are toppled in the chaos; something shatters. He catches the beginnings of a blood-curdling shriek before it’s swiftly silenced. There’s more muffled scuffling before, eventually, absolute peace.
It’s broken by Floyd’s petulant whine. “Maaan, Shrimpy was so difficult. Thought you said they were easy, Azul.”
“Understandably so,” comes Jade’s astute reply. “We did catch them when they were most vulnerable.”
Floyd hums his agreement. “Y’know, Jade, Shrimpy’s kinda cute…”
“They are, aren’t they, Floyd?”
“Whatever you’re thinking, perish it right now,” Azul hisses, features twisting into something dark. “Keep your slimy mitts off of my angelfish.”
There’s an unsettling silence. Azul rolls his eyes. They’re fishing for a reaction he refuses to give.
“Clean up whatever mess you’ve made.” He takes his car out of park and eases into drive. “And don’t let anyone see you. It’ll be a hell of a pain if neighbors make unnecessary reports.”
“Yeah, yeah. Heard ya loud and clear.”
“Very well. Farewell for now.”
The call is cut. Azul grips the steering wheel, smug.
Soon waits for him on the horizon. He will not be a minute late.
You wake on a bed, in a spacious bedroom with exquisite floor-to-ceiling windows, many stories up in the clouds. A brightly lit cityscape sprawls beyond the confines of this room, illuminated with the deceptive shine of promise and success. At first it looks foreign. But then you recognize notable buildings, each standing tall and proud amidst the rest, and it occurs to you that you’re in a stranger’s home, in the heart of the big city.
The room itself is plainly colored; it reminds you of a hotel or a room you might find in a real estate catalogue. Perplexed, you sit up and take pause as your unfamiliar surroundings prove to be more frightful than your own confusion.
Pasted to the walls are various printed screenshots from Magicord, each one detailing a conversation of sorts. You stare at the wall behind you, the one in which the bed is currently pushed against, and peer closer at the contents of these messages.
They’re all from you.
Endearing terms you’ve called him in passing. Gentle insults. Lewd flirts. Vents and rants. Photos you’ve sent of very insignificant things—houseplants, meals, clothes. And then there are the photos of your body in skimpy lingerie and cosplay, all taped to the wall like this is some abstract museum of the digital you. The you who, despite being honest most of the time, took solace in the world of Magicord. The you who’d grown close with the mod from that whimsical ocean-themed server. The you who is now trapped, your ankle enclosed in a cuff. There’s a lead that only allows you to meander into the attached bathroom if you so please, and you suspect it’ll pull taut if you try to leave the room.
“What the fuck?” you mutter, your stomach twisting with disgust.
You look down at your clothes—you’re in someone’s collared shirt, intentionally designed to be oversized so that it drapes like a nightgown—and horror prickles your skin.
And then he arrives.
He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a simple white dress shirt, primly tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You stare for a long moment, studying his features as his familiarity dawns. Your mouth falls open in a muted scream.
He smiles sweetly, stepping further into the amber glow from the bedside lamps. “It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m Sea Witch.”
But that’s not what’s shocking about this. The real shock—the thing that has your brain stumbling in an effort to put the pieces together before the picture can crumble—is far more jarring than the kidnapping and the captivity. You find your voice then, and before you can stop yourself the words are falling out in a hurry.
“CEO Ashengrotto?!”
Sea Witch—CEO Ashengrotto—stiffens, his brows furrowing immediately. He gives you a sharp, dangerous look. A look that seems to radiate one unspoken question: Where did you hear that name?
“You… You’re A-Azul Ashengrotto,” you continue, swallowing thick trepidation. “CEO of Mostro. You opened a new restaurant last year—Crave, right? And the menu features celebrity favorites—celebrities like Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche.”
He laughs his disbelief, carding a hand through soft, silvery locks. “How…do you know this?”
“I work there. You visited once with your secretary for quality checks. We even crossed paths.”
Azul gawks, realizes he’s gawking, and clears his throat. “I… I see. Well.” He inhales, holds his breath for three seconds, and exhales. “This makes things rather…awkward.”
“When you said businessman, I didn’t think… I mean, how was I supposed to know? Your voice sounds so different over call than it does in interviews.”
“Of course it does! I never use the same inflection for those things.”
This cannot be real, you think, watching him flounder anxiously. Azul Ashengrotto is Sea Witch. This whole time… Nine entire months… I was talking to the CEO—to the city’s most popular bachelor—and I didn’t even know it. They write articles about this guy! He’s all over the TV! How did I never realize?
And then a very mortifying thought worms its way in: Oh my God. We both know each other’s preferences. He saw so much of me—more than I’d ever want him to see—and I heard too many private things during our calls…
“Let’s just…” You rub circles into your temples to quell the incoming migraine. “Let’s never talk about this again. You can buy my silence and I’ll move on with my life. I’ll even forget all of…” You glance at the Magicord conversations stuck to the wall and then the chain binding your ankle. “All of this…stuff. We’ll agree to call it a misunderstanding and life will be good, yeah?”
The bargain doesn’t seem to reach him. He continues to stare at you, his eyes glazed with an emotion you can’t place. Whatever it is, it’s stormy and dark. You don’t like it, and you shrink away when he steps closer.
“All this time you were right under my nose…”
Azul climbs onto the bed with you, the mattress depressing under the additional weight. Framed by the hypnotic radiance of the skyscrapers climbing heavenward, he’s certainly earned his place in every celebrity gossip magazine you’ve ever read. Articles debating whether he’s secretly committed to a relationship. Articles theorizing what his life plans may have in store for him. Articles discussing whether he’ll ever get married, if he’ll remain single for the rest of his life, if he’ll ever open his heart to the many people who hope to earn his romantic affections.
No one knows it—how could they when he’s so tight-lipped with the paparazzi?—but you are the secret variable the articles have yet to discover. You are the covert partner, the one who has won his heart, the one who now sits shackled on his bed.
What sort of tabloid journalist could ever spin this story?
You scoot further up the bed, your back pressing against the ornately extravagant headboard. Your knees are pulled into your chest, a futile attempt at protection.
“All this time you were so close to me…” He marvels at this, his baby blue hues locked permanently on you. “And neither of us knew. I could’ve had you much sooner had I just realized…”
You blink at him, your heart sinking with every passing second. “Mr. Ashengrotto, what do you mean by that?”
A pout tugs at perfect, pretty lips. “Why so formal, angelfish? We’re much closer than that, surely.” His hands settle upon your knees, gently pulling them apart. Your blood curdles with fear. “There’s no need to be so tense. It’s only me.”
“No… Please wait. Hold on!”
“Hm? If I’m not mistaken, this is what you want. You were rather vocal about your desires. You’ve always been. So why are you looking at me like that? I’m not scary, am I?”
You squeeze your eyes shut. “Please let me go…”
He clicks his tongue in disapproval, his tone patient despite the subject. “You know I can’t do that.”
“But you… You kidnapped me! Y-You had those guys hiding in my home and they…” You shake your head, unable to describe the sheer terror that had overwhelmed you when those creepy twins descended. Hopeless, you open your eyes to give him your most despairing look. Tears brim in your eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest prodding.
“Oh, my dear, did they scare you? They’re brutes who know nothing of how to treat a person with adequate care. You needn’t worry anymore. I’m here for you.” He cups your face in a fond hold, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your cheek. “Don’t cry, angelfish. You’re in good hands—my hands. And have they not been the most generous?”
“You’re crazy. Obsessed! How can you think any of this is okay? Look around at the walls! You’ve pasted our conversations everywhere—they’re practically the wallpaper!”
“What of it?” His hand slides down to grip your chin, forcing you to meet him at eye level. “I love you. I have for months now. And if those are the ways you choose to classify my care, so be it.”
Tear trails trace down your face. He leans in to kiss the rivers away, but they morph into the saltiest of seas.
“You may not approve of my affections right this very moment. You may hate me, think I’m monstrous, a culmination of all things foul, but you will love me. In due time, my dear. And when you do, the world will open and the chain will come off and you will know freedom under my roof.”
He has the gall to worship you with a loving smile. It poisons you with newly brewing abhorrence.
“So cry your heart out. Scream and kick up a fit. Do what you must. And when the floods subside, we can learn to love one another. Both at our best and our worst, within and beyond Magicord.”
#yandere twst#yandere twst x reader#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere azul ashengrotto x reader#yandere azul ashengrotto#yandere azul#yandere azul x reader#n/sfw
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Collection of Overlords _ Part 11 = Requested
[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]
Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 — Part 10 — Part 11 (here) — Part 12 — Part 13
Like dominos, one thing led to another as predicted
With Alastor motivated to do his absolute to please you, Husk’s hellish training and push to be a worthy Overlord reached its heights. Though, to not cause suspicion to the other residents of the hotel, namely Angel, Husk made appearances here and there just so no one would claim that Alastor was being unreasonable
As for Velvette, she was being mentored by Rosie and Carmilla. It started with just exploring her new title as a ‘Threater Demon’. Her eye in fashion, her want to command, and her presentation skills were strong. Her role in your collection was to project information and messages you want Hell to know about
Because with Hell’s win over Heaven, big changes were bound to come. Not to mention, Trick would be wanting some action on their side and not just to watch their realm fret over yours. You understand the sentiment, after all, you enacted the system for Overlords for that sole purpose in the first place
Now, it was a lucky thing that the Vees actually divided territories before Velvette went solo, because those served as her base of operations and her new home. With Carmilla’s help in construction, Velvette has her own building to call home and workplace. With Rosie’s pointers, Velvette was capable of recruiting talents of worth to her growth
As an Overlord should, Velvette gathered souls to her side through contracts and slowly started to build her own base and support. Just as Alastor was supporting Husk in such a task, albeit it was more complicated since Husk was still under Alastor’s leash at the moment
Her souls comprised of individuals from the fashion and entertainment industries, not too different from her former work associates, so she was able to handle things all on their own. However, there was one thing that she made clear to her people or demons, which is; she was no long part of the Vees and when they sign a contract with her, it’s only to her service
That was something you’re quite proud to hear her say. Even when she is technically starting from rock bottom, she is not using anyone’s name to give herself a boost to start strong and fast, she was using her own. Granted that you allowed Carmilla and Rosie to help, but they were only serving as guidance and giving her advice on what direction to go in. After all that, they took a backseat and watched
To see her rise from the ashes of her own burnt flame was a spectacle and what you have been aiming and doing with your Overlords since the beginning. It was what you have designed when you took initiative to lead a group of overpowered Sinners. They were more than souls doomed to suffer in Hell
In your dark and cruel eyes, they were so much more. While around the majority of the deceased are destined for Hell, their crimes when living define their powers in Hell and their authority in a sense. You being the puppeteer behind your Overlords shows their potential but also their limits because they can never amount to anywhere above Hellborns of great destruction
You have your Overlords their domain of special title. Zestial of Fear, Carmila of War, Rosie of Dismantlement, Zeezi of Violence, Alastor of Domination, and now Velvette has joined their ranks. Velvette of Recreation. So you never let anything destroy or interrupt Velvette’s growth
It’s funny to watch was Vox’s panic over Velvette’s absence and silence. You had given Alastor a power boost to interfere with Vox’s persistent surveillance. The last thing you wanted was for your two new rising stars to have a stalker that will ruin plans and hard work. So now all Vox could do was try to make more public appearances to hypnotize others into staying relevant
Though it wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. You did, however, receive information from your other Overlords that Vox has been asking around as to where Velvette was. Well, you have to give him credit of being bold enough to ask others where his former associate was at, even though it showed his stupidity
“M’re tea, mine own Liege? (More tea, My Liege?)” Zestial offered with the hovering items.
“Zestial, this is a redemption lesson.” You politely and indirectly declined his offer.
“Th’re is barely anyone h’re. (There is barely anyone here)” Zestial laughed, still offering you your drink to which you accepted. “And I am listening to the princess’ lesson, m’rely… multitasking. (And I am listening to the princess’ lesson, merely… multitasking.)”
Currently, you were sitting in a lesson of the Princess in her endevours to make her hotel a success. While you admire her dedication, you can hardly see her plans succeeding and that’s what you show her despite knowing of Sir Pentious’ arrival to Heaven
As you were attending her class, it just so happened that Zestial was stopping by for tea with you and joined you when you said you were busy attending Charlie’s little class. Needless to say, Zestial saw no use in such efforts, labelling Charlie’s dream as ‘flight of fantasy’ rather than a goal to strive towards
Zestial taken great offence when Charlie was promoting her aim to him when he first passed through the doors of the hotel, claiming that he never wish or dreams of leaving Hell so long as you permitted him to stay by your side. He saw Charlie’s gracious offer to be good as an insult to him and his devotion to your services, going as far as to see it as a betrayal of your mercy had he paid half a mind to Charlie’s words
It was only because you’d be free after Charlie’s lesson does he stay at the hotel. As for why he was also attending the lesson? It was because it didn’t want to waste a second away from you when he can. Unlike the other Overlords, Zestial was the one to have known you the longest and that has given him some unique privileges
For example, he could contact you physically or mentally while others have to wait for you to contact them. That was why he suggested for Carmilla to contact you about the matter of the angel’s death instead of waiting for your summons
Another was his authority to stand in as you to a certain degree while you were absent among the gathering of Overlords, that’s why he had that level of say and respect from the others (apart from the Vees, it would seem)
“Hey, Princess!” Vox’s robotic voice boomed through the doors to the room’s doors behind they slammed open unceremoniously to reveal a frantic technology demon. “Princess! I know you’re a good and kind person, er, demon, so I want your help—”
“Help in what?” You questioned but your tone made it sound like a challenge in it of itself.
The moment Vox heard your voice within the room behind him, he froze and like the technology he is, he robotically turned around to meet your eyes. “Ma- I mean… You’re here…” His eyes looked away then back to you and away again, repeating this as though it was a shy schoolgirl with their crush in a love confession. “What a coincident… Haha…”
“Charlie dear.” You got up and Zestial follow suit, indirectly sending a chill down Vox and everyone else’s spine.
“Yes?” Charlie tried her best to keep an unaffected expression, but the way her body trembled and her hands gripped at her sheets of papers till they were all wrinkled up was evident that even she was shaken up.
You smiled back with a small tilt of your head, “I’ll be leaving my leave and bringing Vox along, do continue your lesson on boundaries.”
Zestial followed behind you, “I too shall beest taking mine own leaveth, has’t a pleasant day, princess. (I too will be taking my leave, have a pleasant day, Princess.)”
Vox grudgingly followed along behind the two of you with his head down.
While walking down the halls of the hotel, the mere appearance of Zestial made any demon near you fear for their lives and left with screams and shrieks. Some wondering why such a fearsome character was even in a hotel for redemption and some wondering if such an irredempable demon can be sent to Heaven with Charlie’s help
At those demon’s whispers, Zestial was quick to show why he was still feared even after the emergence of newer and powerful demons that joined the ranks of the Overlord. You reminded indifferent as you continued onwards to your room while Vox held himself back from flinching at Zestial’s more violent and unseen side
Your head turned to the side as you stole a glance at Vox. He was still straightened up, but that was all a facade to hide his fear and anxiety. You internally sighed while Zestial was quick to make work of the disgrace he faced from the shadows and joined her side once more
As clear as day, you recall when there was a time where Alastor spoke praise of Vox and his powers. How he captivated your interest with the potential growth and rise his powers could bring, the thrill you felt when Alastor listed out all the things that he saw Vox could do
The only reservations Alastor had with Vox was his dependence on Alastor as they were sharing a partnership. While Alastor took credit for what he has down, Vox was eager to share his achievements and accomplishments with Alastor’s name, advertising that he was nothing without the help of Alastor who was already an Overlord
Alastor did tell you that Vox wanted and aimed to be an Overlord, but it was to be on the same level as Alastor. As anyone could see, Vox was doing his all to be on Alastor’s equal and to you, that was disappointing. Here Alastor was, recommending Vox to be within your collection when all Vox wanted was to be by Alastor’s side
Oh how you wanted to crush Vox and stuff him into one of your Cages. But you held back, instead, it was more pleasing to see him suffer and rise from the ashes of pain and torture. You gave Alastor a simple suggestion
Break ties with Vox and let him tred his own path
Followed your indirect order Alastor did. Within the minute Alastor broken any and all relationship with Vox, a battle broke out. One where Alastor showcased his power and strength to be leagues above what Vox had in mind
You were perched atop your throne while your other Overlords watched Alastor’s victory and Vox’s defeat within the space you’ve created for them all. The smile you had on you was so wide that your cheeks hurt afterwards when Rosie pointed it out
Then it wasn’t long before Vox seemingly bounced back from his reality check and came back into the spotlight. To your disappointment, Vox used the media in a poor attempt to push Alastor out of power. The little cat and dog fight was entertaining for only a moment’s time as Vox was biting out more and more of Alastor’s time and attention from his rightful duties
The excuse for your intervention only came when Vox claimed to have an Overlord title. Immediately, you brought him into your domain for such a daring claim. Contrary to your expectations, he fell a few feet down, but out of your favouritism for Alastor and trusting in him, you gave Vox a chance. You did need someone to fill in Husk’s place after all
While his offer to share his Overlord status was a unique and intriguing one, his choices were poorer than a human’s foolishness. At the time, there was promise in Velvette, but Valentino was another matter entirely. Still they did work well together, you’ll give them that. So for the first time ever, there was a group of three sharing the title of Overlord
Now that you look back on it, it was a misjudgment on your place. Trusting in Alastor’s words when vouching for Vox was one thing, trusting in Vox’s choice of companionship was another. Still, you see the issue and that somethings could never be changed no matter what
You lost counts on the chances you gave the Vees. If they were any other Overlords in your collection, they’d be long disposed off, but you let them stay out of the goodness of your nonexistent heart
It was a lie
Within your collection, you needed someone at the bottom to be the receiving end of your fury and for someone to be an example to when things don’t go as you please. There needs to be a system of rewards and punishments and who better than the Vees? They have their uses and they wanted to stay. Whether or not they see through your intentions is another story, but you like that they were naive
Before the Vees was Husk who was royally kicked out and still suffering today. Of course he’s aiming to change now with the help of Alastor. Before Husk was a few others not even worthy of your memory. Though the first and successful one?
Zeezi, your perfect stress toy
It was through her that you realized the need for a bottom rank within your collection. What better to have something dull and trashy to better showcase your most prized ones? Just like now, Vox compared with Alastor. It’s obvious who’s better. The comparison and competition made you ever more pleased with your top favourites
So far, Velvette has been the only one that seeked help to break away from her consequence. You would bet Valentino still sees nothing wrong and would continue as he always had. The question remains… Will Vox change too?
In doing so, put Valentino up for elimination?
You chuckled darkly as you entered your room, taking a seat by the window. “Come on in.”
Vox followed in with a shiver while Zestial closed and locked the doors behind them. The room thrusted into darkness before their surroundings resembled the galaxy appeared before their eyes, something a Sinner can never witness again after their fall.
“Now,” You smirked, Zestial taking his place by your side and poured you a cup of tea he magically made appear. Your melodious voice played like a record but your words were sharp as knives. “Why did you seek out the dear Princess of Hell?” Vox gulped as much as he wanted to stare at anything by you, he knew it was a death sentence. “Instead of looking for my assistance?”
Note: Been a while since this series was updated. Not sure how many of you still read this. I thought of dropping this series a lot of times because of the writer's block, but here's the next part. I enjoy the asks, ideas, and trivia you guys sent me! What you think would happen now?
Hope you enjoyed this one~
Circe Y.
My Works: MASTERLIST
Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)
@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay
#Circe's Nighty Writings#Circe's requested writings#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons#alastor fanfiction#alastor#hazbin hotel oneshots#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel overlord#Collection of Overlords#hazbin hotel rosie#rosie hazbin hotel#overlords#hazbin#zestial#carmilla hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel zestial#carmilla carmine#hazbin hotel carmilla#carmilla x reader#hazbin carmilla#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel vees
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Gale as an archmage
I've been thinking about this for a while. If you select Gale as an origin character in the character creator and play his intro, he introduces himself as Gale of Waterdeep™ he immediately follows with "please - no need to be intimidated."
Now I think we initially brush this statement off as Gale being full of himself, but the first time you talk to him and ask him to tell you about himself, there's an option to say something like "Come on, you must have stories from your time as archmage."
And I've always wondered - how would tav know this? Gale hasn't mentioned it. Which leads me to my research question:
Is Gale famous?
Not Elminster-famous, of course, but is he THE archmage of Waterdeep, known throughout the Realms? Is Gale of Waterdeep a legitimate title, not just one he decided to use because it sounds important?
Maybe all of this is common knowledge in DnD lore, but it's a fairly new world to me. Here's what I found about archmages:
From the Forgotten Realms fandom wiki (https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Archmage):
Archmages were among the most powerful arcane spellcasters found throughout all of Faerûn. These practitioners of the Art were experts at manipulating and altering their spells, often in strange ways. Many cities across Faerûn had a single archmage who dedicated themselves to serve that settlement and its people. Some notable cities included Lyrabar in Impiltur, and the great western metropolis of Waterdeep. The term "archmage" was often used to refer to spellcasters who took on leadership roles among similarly-inclined practitioners of The Art. In the drow city of Menzoberranzan, the head of the arcane academy known as Sorcere was granted the title, Archmage of Menzoberranzan.
So, to summarize, archmages are super powerful, big cities often have a singular, dedicated archmage, and they take on leadership roles in the city, sometimes (or at least once) being deemed THE archmage of the city.
I've already seen posts about the insane amount of power held by archmages, so I'm not really going to go into that. I'm just interested in how well-known Gale would be in the Realms. One issue I'm running into while researching is that many people seem to approach the archmage in terms of DnD stats (spell levels, player levels, etc) rather than from a storytelling perspective.
I can't find much else specifically on how widely known archmages would be. There is a list of archmages on the Forgotten Realms wiki, but Gale isn't included on it. I'm assuming maybe BG3 lore is considered an off-shoot of FR lore and therefore not necessarily canon? Let me know if I'm wrong about this.
So that leaves me with message board responses. Here are some notable ones:
An old candlekeep.com forum on the differences between the titles used by magic users. Several users seem to agree with this person.
From the same thread as above.
Interestingly, DnD beyond has archmage categorized as a monster. I'm not sure if this applies only to evil-aligned mages or not, so anyone with more familiarity, feel free to chime in. Anyway, here's what DnD beyond says:
"Archmages are powerful (and usually quite old) spellcasters dedicated to the study of the arcane arts. Benevolent ones counsel kings and queens, while evil ones rule as tyrants and pursue lichdom. Those who are neither good nor evil sequester themselves in remote towers to practice their magic without interruption. An archmage typically has one or more apprentice mages, and an archmage's abode has numerous magical wards and guardians to discourage interlopers."
Gale does mention having students/apprentices at some point (he says something about being impatient with them if I remember correctly, but I can't remember when he actually says it), and, if he's Professor Gale in the epilogue, you're told that an apprentice delivered the invite to the party.
I also find it interesting that archmages typically have wards around their home to keep out intruders, implying that they're well-known enough to have people regularly trying to break into their home?? Or at least has happened enough times to warrant protection.
I also appreciate this reddit comment on a thread asking about the rarity of archmages:
This lead me to a super interesting reddit post which I really suggest you check out if you're interested. The OP breaks down the percentages of each class and level and translates that to city populations. I'm bad at math so that may be a horrible explanation. Anyway, here's a chart that they made:
I have been trying my hardest to put the alt text on the images for accessibility but I have no idea how that would work with this chart. I did include the text at the bottom for screen readers just in case. I'm sorry!
Sooooo someone in the comments asked specifically about Waterdeep and here's what someone who is good at math figured out! (They are correcting a previous comment with incorrect math, hence the first part of the comment):
Since a wizard is considered an archmage at level 18, it's safe to say that Gale would definitely be one of only a few wizards in Waterdeep with such a title. And if the above commenter's assumption about the Blackstaff being one of the only archmages in the city, Gale being of a similar level is HUGE, right? The Blackstaff is a big deal. From the Forgotten Realms wiki:
Blackstaff was the title and name given to the master of the eponymous staff and Blackstaff Tower, including Blackstaff Academy, as well as the Archmage of Waterdeep.
So if the Blackstaff is THE Archmage of Waterdeep, Gale, obviously, is not. But!!! If we can trust the math of the reddit users above, and we assume Gale was at least a level 19 wizard pre-orb/tadpole/whatever ... he would be one of two archmages in Waterdeep, second only to the Blackstaff themself.
I personally think that's enough renown to be a somewhat familiar name throughout Faerûn. So yes, Gale is a bit arrogant and, in his own words, pompous about being Gale of Waterdeep™ but perhaps it's warranted.
This has been a deep dive fueled by procrastination about writing the research papers I should actually be writing right now. Thank you for your time
#just been thinkin about this lately#gale#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#baldur's gate 3#bg3#gale bg3#bg3 lore#bg3 meta
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Bharani Nakshatra and Fertility: The Cycle of Life under the rule of Venus
port-br
When watching films or plays that take place in the Middle Ages, you notice that some of them have the figure of the “herald”, those messengers who arrive at the location and open the letter (which looks like a parchment) and read the message aloud. The Heralds carried announcements and messages from the kingdom to the population, made solemn proclamations, verified titles of nobility, announced war and proclaimed peace. They were a preform of diplomacy. When they were going to announce something to the people, they would stand on a platform in the middle of the public square and shout the real news, usually wearing clothes that differentiated them to attract more attention.
Bharani Nakshatra (Aries 13º20' - 26º40') are the heralds of the energy of Venus, as they act as messengers or representatives of the essence of Venus in the world, carrying Venusian qualities, manifesting them in their lives and behavior. Venus is advocacy, seeks equity and is a peacemaker, devoid of aggression, but when it joins Mars, aggression and anger can be used as a tool of diplomacy (description by mike sleeping dog). In the eyes of Vedic elders, the star of this nakshatra forms the female sexual organ and thus became its symbol. This organ symbolizes the fertility aspect of life and a portal between two different worlds. In the Vedic point of view, it is described as death and birth, transformation and regeneration. It also represents restriction, care, jealousy, sacrifice, sexuality, nurturing and maternal love. Bharani carries all these attributes. It is the star of restriction that has the power to cleanse and remove impurities.
The main deity of Bharani is Yama, the god of death. Yama had a twin sister named Yami, who is considered the lady of life. Yama and Yami are a divine pair of creative deities. Yama is what connects mortality and immortality that carves mortal paths through death. In it is time and through time it describes a course for life, after the course life is absorbed into time. Yami is moved by Maya's emotions and love. Yama is mortal, but Yami is not. The procreation of mortals was granted thanks to the sacrifice that Yama made in annihilating himself, thus creating a debt (cyclic yajña). Through debt, exchange is created, and it is through exchange that the world moves forward.
There is a story that Yami fell in love with her brother Yama and wanted to have sex with him, arguing that this would not break dharma. She wished Yama to induce the embryo in her womb. It was a natural instinct that awakened in her mind and body after she reached puberty.
"She offered many arguments as to why this would not break dharma, but he knew that sexual intercourse with his own sister would go against dharma in the mortal world, where every action provokes a seen or unseen reaction. His reward for such self-control was to become chief justice of the universe." - Mike Sleeping Dog.
Bharani is a 16-year-old girl about to deflower, a baby in the womb or a person who faces the Yamadutas (heavenly angels whose task is to guide souls in the afterlife process) after death. Because of its childlike quality, Bharani is one of the most eager nakshatras. Just like a child wants to experience the entire environment, Bharani natives want to experience the environment to the fullest. There is a primal innocence in the way they experience things, people and places. They may go by instinct instead of reason. Most of your feelings and desires are so overwhelming that very little can be done to contain or calm them. Once again, the evolutionary status of the soul in question comes into play. All Bharani natives have a creative impulse within them. Females generally express this creativity through bearing children, while males attempt to be creative on stranger levels. Bharani is a nakshatra where interaction between man and woman takes place. This makes it one of the most sexual nakshatras in the zodiac. Bharani is representative of the force of nature that creates attraction between opposites. Bharani natives experiment, surrender, become victims and try to understand this force.
Bharani is the nakshatra that belongs to the first sign of the zodiac and is the first nakshatra ruled by Venus, this symbolizes the entry of the initial energy of creative feminine energy into the zodiac. Therefore, it is a feminine nakshatra. This is no longer a surprise, as Bharani represents everything feminine. It is the second nakshatra and the first female nakshatra. Just like the number “2” in numerology, it is the initiator of the feminine principle at all levels of existence. It is the beginning of duality and maya, and in it lies the essence of the complex functioning of the feminine principle. Bharani is considered a balanced nakshatra. Bharani is actually an extreme nakshatra, but it is classified as 'Balanced' due to its tendency to balance opposite extremes like birth and death. Bharani natives often lead double lives, reaching two different extremes. So, overall, their lives can be seen as balance. It is part of the Rajas Nakshatras (rajas is action to get desires fulfilled. It is the passion that drives one to action, often not getting the expected results, which leads to more actions), this can be easily accessed from the govt. of Bharani by Venus. Venus is seen as the most rajasic among the planets. Its relationship with terrestrial life processes is very strong. In a way, you could say that it is only Venus that makes life worth living. As Bharani heralds Venusian energy, its expression here is primordial, highly concentrated and explosive (all rajasic expressions). Venus is the planet of fertility, creativity and pleasure. In Bharani, these qualities manifest in the idea of giving birth, both literally and symbolically. Fertility here is not restricted to procreation, but also the ability to create and nurture ideas, projects and new phases of life. Bharani, governed by Yama, also remembers that every beginning is accompanied by an end, a continuous cycle of renewal. Bharani represents the phase in which the seed is planted (the creative act that precedes growth. Being the first nakshatra of Venus, Bharani symbolizes fertility in its primordial state, the impulse to generate life. Fertility is linked to the feminine receptive nature, the ability to sustain life, something that Venus dominates. Bharani, with her association with the uterus, also speaks of the importance of gestation, essential elements of fertility. All goddesses, especially fertility goddesses, are linked to Venus.
Bharani is the nakshatra of karma and reincarnation, one of the least understood concepts in modern times, especially in the Western world. Bharani is the name of the stage where the masculine and feminine, which have arisen from a single genderless source, copulate and, in doing so, carry forward the process of creation.
#astronomy#jyotish#vedic astrology#astrologia#vedic astro observations#nakshatra#spirituality#spiritual awakening#dark moon#astrology#numerology#dark femininity#dark feminine energy#dark feminine aesthetic#sidereal astrology#vedicastrology#psicology#psicologia#thriller psicologico#ketu#rahu ketu#vedic astro notes#signos#astrologia védica#materialist feminism#bharani#venus#fertility#yama
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🥹
I may or may not have recently fallen for Bazz-B? Help
Curious fingers.
Starring: Bazz-B x f!reader;
Format: drabble;
Warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, language, mention to squirting, rough make out session, gagging, semi-public sex, manhandling, clit edging, slut shaming, casual hook-up, the reader is a quincy as well;
Plot: He had caught you staring at him. You were clearly sending him a message, you wanted him. He was right, indeed, you craved him. Specifically, though, you wanted to feel the way he could use his skilful fingers on you. A man who fought with them could surely help you ride out powerful orgasms.
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“Are you done eye-fucking me?” he arrogantly asked you, one of his gloved hands pinning you to the wall by your shoulder, fingers digging onto your flesh through your uniform. You should have seen it coming from miles away. Pulling the right strings to make him snap had been pretty easy and you really were in no position to complain, obviously. Your hot-headed colleague had fallen straight into your trap, albeit he was probably still convinced he had the upper hand.
Everything was going according to your plan.
You arched your eyebrow, defiantly raising your chin “I have no idea of what you’re talking about” you replied casually, back flattened against the polished marble surface behind you.
Bazzard scoffed, clearly not buying your words. You had a certain reputation, after all. When you wanted something, you did anything in your power to obtain it. He was fed up with you and the little game you had started a few weeks ago. Staring at him intently, sparring with your degenerated group of friends in his proximity wearing that scanty skirt, spreading your legs enough to grant him a clear view of your underwear while sitting across from him. You were sending him a message and he was no one to bite the hand that was feeding him.
He grasped your jaw roughly with his free hand, nose brushing against yours as his upper lip twitched “Oh, save that attitude for some other idiot. — he stated, watching you grin at him as he squeezed your cheeks — If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask for it” he said, abruptly letting go of your face and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.
You inhaled sharply through your nostrils, hands gripping the collar of his uniform to pull him closer to you. Messily, sloppily, you kissed him back. His knee ungraciously spread your legs, your teeth nipping at his bottom lip to gain back some command. He groaned, eye opening to check the area around you two. The castle was mazy and intricate enough to get lost and nearly no one knew this deserted wing anyway.
What a pity, though. Bazz was certainly the type who would have loved to have his comrades talk about his disreputable habits. Also, you probably deserved to experience some shame.
“I don’t want your dick, Bazz” you eventually spluttered, hand shoving him back by his chest.
His breath was ragged, his tongue darting out to lap at his bruised lip. Your words took him aback, head cocking to the side in sheer curiousity “Really? Then what are you after? If you are into some other shit you could ask—”.
“Your fingers. — you interrupted him, lolling your head back against the wall — Can you make me come with them?” you challenged him, causing the man in front of you to chuckle and take a step closer to you.
Now you had his attention. Hands riding up your skirt, he tugged the thin material covering your intimacy to the side. The sound of a few seams being ripped made you flinch, shivers running down your spine as he clicked his tongue “Look at you. So this is what you wanted, huh? Kinky bitch, let’s see what I can do then” he commented, amused by your request and the length you had gone to just to achieve your goal.
You scrunched up your nose, hooking your leg around his hip to yank him closer to you and anchor yourself “Have you ever made someone squirt?” you provoked him again, only for him to bring his hand to his mouth and bite onyo the fabric of his glove, tugging at it with his fingers to remove it.
Arousal pooled between your legs, mouth gaping, but soon your found yourself biting onto the black material as he stuffed your mouth with it.
“Nasty, aren’t you? I don’t wanna hear you yap any longer” he rasped out, digits gliding over your heat and playing with your folds with expertise.
You let out a muffled whine, hands gripping the collar of his shirt hard, whilst your hips moved in sync with his movements. The friction was delicious, just like the way he slipped his forefinger and middle finger deep into your core. You furrowed your brows, walls squeezing his fingers perfectly, as you watched him grinning down at you mockingly.
“Already dripping! I’ll have to tell Haschwalth about it! Good, fuckin’ good” he taunted you, before his thumb began to draw slow circles over your throbbing clitoris.
Sweat beaded your forehead, head lolling back against the wall as you let out guttural moans, distorted by the glove in your mouth. Salive dribbled down your chin, while your eyes burned in desire. You wanted more, you needed more and he was taking his sweet time with you.
When he shover a third finger into you, the stretch made your knees buckle, causing him to remove them all at ones and help you back onto your feet. Grasping your ankle, he settled it on the top of his shoulder and let his hand find your clitoris again “Ah-ah, can’t handle it, huh? Then I’ll edge you until you will weep and cry so hard your friends will come to check on you. How does it sound, huh?” Bazz asked you, a strangled whine leaving your throat as you closed your eyes.
Well, as long as he was going to play with your pussy, you could endure that.
AUTHOR NOTE.
Hello there! Here’s one of the two Bazz thrists I had in my inbox. I mean, it’s my first time writing for him and I hope this hasn’t turned out to be a huge mess. Anyway, likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated!
x o x o
#bazz b x reader#bleach x reader#bazz b smut#sternitter x reader#bazz b#bazzard black#bazzard black x reader#bleach smut
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In your asks and other outside-of-comic statements, you seem to draw on parallels to programming a lot when talking about lacrimas.
And this makes me think as a programmer: the primordial rules that are used in Auroras to do magic and lacrimas are part of the primordial language. You are literally telling the primordial's dead bodies what to do, and they obey.
Yet, the difference that comes to my mind is that Primordial was at one point a language actually spoken. Used to communicate in day-to-day life by normal sentient beings. That's quite different from programming languages, which aren't meant to be talked in at all, and are built from the ground up purely to convey a series of precise instructions. They're very formalised and structured. There are no synonyms, no double meanings, no altering of word order, no redundant information etc. It's extremely rigid, much unlike languages people actually talk in, for which a degree of fluidity and ambiguity is essential.
And in Aurora it would seem the latter is being used as the former.
Have you ever thought about this tension/contradiction/conflict? How it affects the world, how it affects your writing, etc?
Or has this distinction never crossed your mind?
Or was this something you have noticed, but never really had the right knowledge to engage with much?
Or any other thoughts on the subject, really
So! This is an interesting thing I have actually thought about.
When the Elder Races were first created, they were born knowing and speaking a language innovatively called the First Language. Every new Young Race is also initially created speaking this language. The language then drifts over the generations, developing into regional dialects and then into separate linguistic descendants if given enough time.
The Ancients spoke a close descendent of the First Language for most of their time in existence, and made a writing system of their own very early on, which has no innate power. But in the early days of the world, the generally accepted story is that a god granted the three elder races knowledge of the written Runic language, which could command the elements. The Ancients acquired it late and used it very sparingly, only for the programming of lacrimas, but for the Elves and Humans living in the depths of the Caves, this was their first and primary writing system. It's even possible that a rare cave-dweller brave enough to venture to the surface was the one who taught the Ancients these runes in the first place.
It's posed an obvious question, of course. Why does this one specific form of writing manifest as a language of magic? Why can it command the dead Primordials? Why is it so well-suited to the phonemes of the First Language that every child of this world is created speaking?
The predominant theory - and, with two living primordials to check with, one which is potentially on the cusp of being proven - is that the First Language and its runic writing system are the language that the Primordials spoke. Its words, written or spoken, can be understood by the remnants of thought that still linger in the sleeping, dead-but-not-entirely-gone primordials that make up the world.
Primordial magic is different from programming in one key way: real computers are entirely unthinking entities. They are not in any way smart - not even smart enough to be stupid. A computer parsing a program cannot observe a missing parentheses and compensate like a human could do in their sleep - it simply fails to parse, because the mathematics don't work out.
Magic in this world is like what every programmer wishes programming could be. Tell the computer what to do, and it might be a little confused, but it'll get the gist. Tell Fire to burn in this direction - Fire, even if it's just running on an echo of a seven-thousand-year-old memory, knows what that means. Tell the wind to printf this statement to this recipient, it'll try to find them and send the message. Tell Life to make this body do what it's doing faster, it can do that. It's simple executions of simple commands, almost reflexive - things that require no complex higher thought from a being that is no longer alive enough to have them. They're not as unthinking as computers, and that means the nuances of language can actually have an effect on them. Some mages think more poetic and emotionally-charged spell invocations can lead to better, more efficient results - an appeal to a long-dead emotion might be easier for the Primordial to execute than an appeal to a half-forgotten complex thought.
When a mage takes direct control of a magical energy and funnels it into an elemental effect, their own higher thought allows the element to do more complicated things - Fire can't transmute on its own like it could when it was alive, but it can when bent to a mortal will. No need to translate a spell into the language of magic when the mage can simply use their own mind to shape the effect. This is the primary advantage mages have over lacrima-users - flexibility, complexity, and speed.
Another interesting factor. Alinua's dynamic with Life demonstrates what a living Primordial's living thought can do when in the hands of a mortal. A normal, simple healing spell cast by anybody but her just accelerates a body's own healing, but with Alinua's guidance steadying Life's hand, they can do much more complicated things of her own free will - things Life knows how to do that no mage knows how to command her to do.
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Dolled up [2/2]
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [male, amab] Reader Summary: Sanji wants another encounter with you. Tags: He wears pretty lingeries / Demanding, but he's a bottom / He's gets eaten out / Just a princess / a PILLOW princess
Requested by anon [I LOVE how you wrote ‘dolled up’ with sanji and i was wondering if you could do part 2 to that? If not then just another sanji x top male readers fine! You don’t have to do it btw! Ty and have an awesome day!] A/n: thanks sm for your request <33 i hope you have a great day, dear!
[PART 1]
MASTERLIST
Sanji had noticed your persistent presence and gaze upon him. You eyed him differently after he showed up in your cabin for a midnight surprise, as if you were all the time picturing him wearing that lingerie under his normal clothes. There was something else, but he couldn’t quite get what it was.
Were you trying to figure something out about him? Studying him? He wasn’t really sure about it, but he didn’t feel like facing it directly. Some sort of superiority had been granted to Sanji the moment he found out how lost you were for him, and he wouldn’t throw it all away now. He loved the way your breath would hitch whenever he reached for something on the higher parts of the cabinets, making his shirt ride up just enough… It was good knowing he had such power.
“Excuse me,” you whispered, suddenly popping Sanji out of his bubble of thoughts and placing the ground under his feet again. Your hands were firm around his waist, gently moving him to the side so that you could walk past him and grab something from the fridge. He couldn’t even focus, mind going blank the moment your hands grabbed his waist and set him aside, so he looked down and let his hair fall more over his face in the hope it would cover his blush. Thankfully, you didn’t notice anything.
Sanji wanted the attention so badly, but he also didn’t want to be the one to give in first. This feeling bubbled up under his skin as the days passed; a presentment, though he didn’t know what for. At least until it was time for his night watch, that is.
Everything needed to be in the right measurement, and it lacked something, though Sanji wasn’t sure what. A quiet hum escaped his lips as he licked the sauce from his finger, shifting his weight to one of his legs with a soft sigh. He was a little sleepy and tired, but it was nothing he couldn’t endure. With a sigh, he was about to reach for a jar when he stopped midway.
Arms wrapped warmly around Sanji’s waist, soon accompanied by a presence behind him. It didn’t take him a lot of thought to know who it was, and his heart fluttered at the same moment.
“Doll,” you whispered right next to Sanji’s ear, making his skin rise in shivers at the same time it heated up. “My princess.”
“Yours?” Sanji whispered back almost too quickly, in a mocking tone. He wasn’t reaching for the jar anymore, only resting both of his hands on the countertop this time. The fact you were there, finally interacting directly with him and touching him without restraints, somehow managed to calm down a tension that bubbled up inside him previously. It melted away in a pleasing feeling that still carried an anxious edge.
“Of course,” you whispered with a soft chuckle, nuzzling the crook of Sanji’s neck and having fun with the way his skin rose in shivers. “I thought I’d claim you before anyone else. Am I so wrong for doing that, or did I get the wrong message? Were you just using me the other day?”
Sanji couldn’t help but sigh at your assumptions, pausing as he glanced back to raise an eyebrow at you before he shook his head to himself. Your gaze remained the same before his vague response.
“You’re difficult,” Sanji muttered, smirking at the way you gasped in offense.
“Oh, I’m the difficult one here?” You clicked your tongue and kissed Sanji’s shoulder through his shirt, inhaling the cologne he used—it was floral, in soft notes that could be caught under the smell of cigarettes and something else, stronger on the back of his neck. Also through the thin fabric of his button-up, your fingers worked on his waist, caressing and looking for something. “You’ve been avoiding me the whole week. Do you know how lonely I’ve been?”
Sanji felt a sense of pride swell in his chest at the fact that you recognized his distance—that you missed his presence and felt miserable because of that. He exhaled, smiling. “Oh? So were you having fun with your hand instead?”
“Why would I when I have you?” You scoffed, and your words sent a sparkle down Sanji’s spine that ended in the warmth that started forming in his lower stomach. His cheeks heated up a little, and he had to look down, trying to contain the smile that fought to form on his face. “Or are you bored? Maybe I just got the wrong idea.” Your touch became lighter at the same moment you paused, but Sanji promptly placed his hands over yours and tugged on your hands to wrap your arms tighter around his torso while he leaned back against you, with his head on your shoulder. It was enough to have your heart going wild in your chest.
“Don’t be silly.” Sanji chuckled, turning his head enough to plant a kiss on your cheek.
A smile stretched across your face according to how you relaxed, tightening your arms around him before nuzzling the crook of his neck with a soft hum. Sanji’s fingers laced with yours, warm palms pressed to the back of your hands as he relaxed into your touches, sighing softly. It was nice to just be with him like that; your heart felt out of place with the unusual amount of happiness it felt, almost making you feel dizzy while pulling Sanji closer, wanting more of him.
Sanji gasped barely audibly as he felt your grip tighten around him, your forearms sinking just under his ribs, but still let you have that moment before he turned around to face you with his arms around your neck. “You know, I was kinda waiting for you,” he whispered as his index finger traced circles into your shoulder.
The new tone made you raise an eyebrow, studying Sanji’s apparently innocent expression as he eyed you from under his eyelashes with that small smile tugging on his lips. It was hard to resist, making something stir in your lower stomach, even more so when his fingers pressed to the back of your neck and rubbed against the skin soothingly. Since when did he have such power over you…? Well, it didn’t matter at the moment; you kept looking into his visible blue eye while he smiled and leaned in.
A familiar taste of lip balm was present on Sanji’s lips, which gave you an idea of the whereabouts of your lost lip balm, hinting at the bearings of your favorite shirt and a ring. Either way, every other thought aside from Sanji himself was erased from your mind the moment he deepened the kiss and tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth. His eyes were half-lidded, eyeing you with entertainment and the full knowledge of what he was doing.
“My dear, mon amour,” he mumbled against your lips in a soft pleading tone that you couldn’t resist.
Nothing would happen if you two left the night watch for a while, right? You two weren’t near any island, in the first place, and it would be hard seeing Sunny in the dark, so there was nothing to worry about. The thoughts were buried in the back of your mind by the time you climbed on top of Sanji and pressed your lips to his, feeling the mattress shift under your knees as you opened up a space between his legs.
Sanji’s breath escaped his throat in short intervals that were permeated by gasps for air whenever there was a small break from the kisses. His arms wrapped around your neck, holding you closer as his legs wrapped around your waist, and he arched his back, sending both of you groaning when your hips ground together.
Aside from knowing his way around, Sanji knew you, and maybe a little too well. He knew which way he had to kiss you to have you whimpering into his mouth, and kept kissing you until you ran out of air. Entertainment played in his eyes while observing you try to catch your breath, faces just centimeters away from each other. There was a soft hum as he caressed your cheeks with gentle fingers before kissing your lips in a soft kiss that didn’t last longer than a couple of seconds.
You sat back on your legs, bottom lip between your teeth while your fingers carefully unbuttoned his shirt, slowly letting his torso come into view, all while Sanji lay there as if you were just doing the bare minimum for him. A small smile remained on his lips as he observed you, and you couldn’t help but get a little lost in him. He looked so beautiful like that, hair messy, hands above his head, cheeks with a light red tone…
A sigh escaped your lips as you finally pulled the light blue fabric away and there was a lingerie top you’d never seen before. The bralette was made of a thin and soft peach-colored lace with white satin details.
“Sanji,” you practically moaned, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin on his chest above the bra and below the delicate silver chain he used around his neck with a small gem as a pendant. You thought about gifting him a pendant with the initial of your first name so that he could use it around his neck, but you decided to keep it as a mental note for later, focusing on how his soft skin felt under your lips.
Sanji’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, and he hummed in response to your touches, placing a hand on the back of your head to gently caress your hair and keep you close. A soft groan escaped your lips as you started nipping on his skin with firm hands around his waist, holding tightly as if to pull him even closer because it just wasn’t possible to get enough of him.
You nuzzled into Sanji’s bra, tugging on it just enough to expose his nipple so that you could latch your lips around it. As his nipple slowly hardened under your touch, Sanji whimpered, placing more pressure on the back of your head, so you complied—your tongue ran around the bud before you started sucking on it with a soft groan, relishing how Sanji’s moans grew louder once you started using your teeth.
“Fuck,” Sanji groaned as he arched his back, only relaxing back against the bed when you finally let go of his chest with a final lick across his nipple. His face was a brighter shade of red now, and his pupils were blown—your cock twitched the moment his eyes met yours, and you started moving again.
It was messy, but Sanji still helped you get undressed, taking off your shirt while you unbuckled your belt, but he didn’t undress himself, no. He waited for you to do it, going to the maximum of helping you a little by lifting his body off the bed, nothing more.
“I see you like my lingerie,” Sanji said with a sense of pride, grinning wide.
You paused and just raised an eyebrow at Sanji, without giving him much attention to his statement—it was obvious you liked his lacy garments, the way they suited his body so perfectly and gave him an extra touch of delicacy. It made you infatuated, clouding your thoughts whenever you looked at him or thought about him wearing them.
“You planned this?” You raised an eyebrow, slipping your hands under his panties so that you could cup his ass cheeks. “Or do you just go around wearing lingerie on a daily basis, princess?”
Sanji couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, cupping your face lovingly. “Yes to both. The thing is that I like wearing the special ones for you.”
You smiled, sighing while giving his ass a squeeze—he moaned in response, arching his back as his legs wrapped around your waist again, but his cock met no friction, much to his displeasure. “So pretty,” you breathed and kissed along Sanji’s shoulder while your fingers kneaded on the fat of his ass until soft whimpers escaped his lips, though it wasn’t much of a hard task.
Reluctantly, you pulled a hand away from Sanji to reach for the lube in the bedside table, quickly retrieving it.
“On your stomach,” you said with a soft slap on his thigh, which caused him to groan softly before he turned over, allowing you to adjust a pillow under his hips. He was such a princess, indeed, a fucking pillow princess who didn’t want to do any work today, but you didn’t mind. You’d manhandle him around if he wanted to.
You knelt between Sanji’s spread legs, taking a while to observe him, taking note of the contrast between the delicate clothes and his muscular fame, his plump ass. How could he be so perfect? A soft sigh escaped your lips as you pressed a kiss to his lower back before gently tugging his panties to the side, just enough to expose his hole, while you tugged on one of his butt cheeks.
The cold lube fell against the warm skin, making Sanji gasp and squirm a little in anticipation, glancing over his shoulder to take a look at you, but your focus was somewhere else. Your thumb circled his fluttering entrance, spreading the lube around and earning yourself a quiet sound from Sanji that stretched itself for longer when your thumb pressed past the ring of muscles, spreading the wetness into his hole.
“Mmph, darling,” Sanji whispered as he arched his back a little bit, attempting to push his hips back into your finger, but it wasn’t of much use; your goal wasn’t to please him yet, just to spread the lube. He grabbed one of your pillows to hug, folding it in half to also give his face a good place to rest.
Silence filled the room for a moment, but it was just a matter of seconds before Sanji let out another quiet sound. His hole twitched when your tongue pressed to it, tasting the sweetness of the lube along with Sanji’s taste itself. It took a while, but he finally started relaxing, groaning into the pillow as your tongue lapped at him. Since there weren’t many opportunities in which you could have privacy with anyone on the ship—or even had the time for it—, you took your time licking along his hole, pressing your tongue flat to the fluttering skin without enough strength to actually penetrate him.
Sanji’s whimpers were muffled, but not inaudible, loud enough to reach your ears and make the arousal rise within you. Finally, though, your lips were closed around the flushed entrance and sucking with enough intensity to draw a moan from him.
“Good,” Sanji whispered, though cutting himself off when he felt your tongue finally pushing inside him, lapping at his insides in a very welcome intrusion. He tightened his fingers around the pillow, arching his back as he sought more pleasure, which you seemed very eager to provide him. Not only your tongue, but the way your hands kept a firm grip on his ass and the back of his thigh also had him melting, cock twitching and leaking inside the tight panties.
The consistent rhythm of the shallow thrusts of your tongue was enough to cloud Sanji’s thoughts, making him start getting lost in the pleasure you were able to provide him. He whimpered and hugged the pillow closer to himself when your tongue glided inside him just the right way.
Despite the pleasure that it brought both of you, your jaw started complaining about the straining; a sharp pain started tugging on your muscles until you were forced to pull back, moving your chin from side to side in a small massage while eyeing his glistening hole.
Sanji didn’t have time for complaining before your tongue was replaced by a couple of fingers; he let out a long, dragged moan while his hips squirmed under your touch, and he didn’t seem to mind the replacement. His skin rose in shivers at the same time his walls tightened around your fingers when your lips ran along his ass cheek, kissing and nipping on the soft skin at the same time your fingers worked at a slow pace inside him.
Your cock was painfully hard, dripping between your legs, but your desire to keep satisfying Sanji like that was bigger than the will to indulge in your own needs. Soft moans came from Sanji as he squirmed, arching his back and almost getting off the position if you weren’t holding him in place, though he became more still when your tongue worked along the rim of his hole as your fingers reached deep inside him. His breath hitched, and with the way he squeezed around you, it was obvious he was close.
The moans that came from Sanji were louder and longer until a particular one caught in his throat, and he came, slick walls clenching around your fingers until they were spasming with the afterglow, and he whimpered at how the overstimulation threatened to take over.
You would give him a break first, but your curiosity got the best of you; before Sanji could even catch his breath, you were making him turn over and tugging on the waistband of his panties. The sight was mouthwatering, and your cock ached as it throbbed more. Sanji’s cock was still half hard, messily covered in fresh cum and confined inside those small panties.
“Fuck, I’m down bad for you,” you moaned.
.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.
#one piece#opla#one piece live action#vinsmoke sanji#x reader#x male reader#sanji x reader#sanji x male reader#one piece x male reader#one piece x reader#imagine#oneshot#scenario#fan fic#fan fiction
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