#but he is objectively a Bad person and lots of people don’t like him

[rynnthefangirl]

I loved the list you made about the things that Stan and Ford can and should or can't and should not be accountable but like there are somethings I don't get and I hope you could help me see things from your perspective. Like, the majority of people agrees that Ford has the right to hold a grudge at Stan for him breaking his machine since he did not apologize to Ford and time is not an apology. Ford also thought that Stan would be fine on his own and that was the reason he never checked on him. Also, Bill is a master manipulator, so Ford believing in him is more about Bill being good at manipulating people than Ford's ego.

I also think you forget to add some things, like, Ford didn't explained to Stan the situation that he was in, he just shoved the Journal 1 on him and ordered him to hide it without even saying if he would contact him to come back or not. He also brought up their childhood dream while doing that and later said to Stan that did nothing worthwhile with his life until that moment. And he also burned and branded Stan. While Stan called Ford selfish for not using his grant money to help their family and later tried to burn Journal 1 out of spite. He also messed up with Ford's infinity sided dice, which put him and Dipper in danger.

Thanks for the ask!

Regarding Ford not checking on Stan, I think you are correct that he figured Stan would be fine… but I also think that Ford believed this at least in part because he doesn’t want contend with his mixed feelings about his brother. He just wants to feel justifiably angry, so that he can forget about Stan and focus on himself and his future. Knowing that Stan was suffering would force him to confront how he does still love and miss his brother (but his aim is getting better), which would burden him and put him in a position of having to choose whether to make a sacrifice (whether it be time, money, emotional effort, part of his career goals) for Stan’s sake. Which he doesn’t want to do. Ford isn’t a bad guy, and he does love his brother… but he is really good at believing things just because he wants to believe them. I don’t think this is a reasonable view of reality though. Stan was kicked out at 18, with no money to his name, no friends, no family, no home. Ford should have considered the possibility that Stan may be suffering and need him. I certainly don’t blame him for being upset with Stan about the project or even necessarily for holding a grudge about it (especially given how terribly Stan handled that confrontation), but we know Ford cares for his brother despite that, and he doesn’t really show it when he chooses to never check on him for 10 years.

As for Bill and Ford, well I think it’s both Bill’s manipulation AND Ford’s ego. Like yes Bill was a good manipulator, but it worked because there was something for him to target. Ford was so desperate to believe he was special and important, which goes back to Ford being really good at believing things that aren’t actually reasonable just because he wants them to be true. I’ll link a more in depth post that I made that is kinda on this same topic, if you are interested :)

Then for the other points you bring up, you are right that both of them did a lot to escalate that situation into a fight. I will admit I am extremely lenient towards Ford in this situation because he was in the middle of a mental breakdown. I mean he’s been essentially tortured for days on end, I don’t blame him for being a bit thoughtless. I think the onus was on Stan to see that and realize he needs to be the bigger person in that moment. As for the infinity sided dice though, gotta disagree about that being on Stan… who puts an incredibly dangerous object like that in a cheap plastic case in a little sack? 😂 but to be fair, that dumb choice was more just for plot purposes so the episode can happen.

Here’s a link to the post I mentioned:

And thanks again for the ask, I love the Stan twins and talking about their relationship!

[neoflames]

Hey bestie, 7 and 12 for the violence ask game?

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Might get shot on sight for this one. Talia al Ghul

She’s kind of hard to openly dislike because people immediately assume it’s because of racist retcons. Nope. I understand that she did not rape Bruce, they were both consenting. I understand that she loves Damian.

What I don’t fucking like is how the fandom trips over itself to make her morally gray at the very best and secretly good on the evil side at worst. NO!!!! SHE IS A VILLAIN. LET HER BE A VILLAIN. I have nothing against villain characters I love SEVERAL villain characters. She is not fucking morally gray!!!!! She is a significant member of the league of assassins!! The appeal of her romance with Bruce was that they were on opposite sides of the fight !!!! But people still rush to scream racism when you say she is a villain character and probably what most would consider a bad person

I understand that there were lots of really racist retcons and mischaracterisations. I’m not talking about those. I think she’s actually a cool character but I can’t stand her because everyone goes out of their way to throw out everything cool about her out of fear of being called racist if they make her look bad

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

I think Lex Luthor is really funny. You are a grown bald ass man why are you beefing with sunshine incarnate. More people should like him outside of shitposts so we can talk more about what a fucking loser he is

[titsthedamnseason]

.

[brucewaynehater101]

I need you to stop me from making another Tim Drake centric fic

I got this random idea that won’t leave me alone

like what if the emotional scars and trauma people have show up physically too most commonly as little cracks on the skin and all of the bats have them

they hide them tho with make up and stuff so people don’t question it except Tim hides them from everyone maybe bc that’s what his parents taught him to do maybe bc he just doesn’t want to burden any of the bats

the bats think that Tim is fine so to them he’s invincible which leads them to treat him as such subconsciously or otherwise especially Bruce

it takes a lot for something to be bad enough that they physically manifest and Tim has A LOT bc everyone thinks he’s invincible

:) it won’t leave me alone help me I beg of you

Hmm.... Let's add on, shall we? This is a very rad idea. You should definitely write a fic about it, but no pressure.

Mind if I explore it? Also, feel free to disregard any part below you don't want/disagree with. This is just brainstorming ^^

Alright. Emotional scars are a physical mark on someone's skin.

Similar to regular scars, they can fade as a person heals.

Some may never disappear, and some only appear for a short time.

What would their color be?

Would they look like actual cracks in a person (so black-ish in color)? Would they be gold or multi-colored (different colors represent different kinds of emotional traumas)?

The level of hurt inflicted is directly proportional to the size (length and width) of the scar.

Perhaps more could be deduced from the general shape (is it jagged? A single line? Branching?)

Not all people have these marks

Most of the population manifests them. There's some prejudice against folk who don't [something something they are heartless, incapable of feelings, not able to be emotionally hurt, cold, detached, etc.], but hiding scars is also common. Therefore, it's harder to discern whether someone is hiding their marks or markless. It's a very fine line, so most people allow a smaller mark to show every once in a while. There's even a few trends to proudly display all marks.

Marks appear at the time of the emotional harm

It may not be apparent at the time due to the location, but the individual being hurt will manifest the mark at the very moment of emotional harm.

Anyways, that's the background stuff. Fun, but let's get into Tim specifically ^^

Tim's parents are part of the few who believe that showing off your scars to anyone, even your loved ones, is both a weakness and a way to guilt-trip people. Therefore, through their archeology studies, they managed to obtain magical objects to prevent the showing of emotional marks. It's similar to glamor.

Tim's object can change forms to suit his needs (so a ring at one moment and an earring the next). This ability prevents the Bats from discovering it.

Janet fakes a very small mark on her hand when she wants to discourage any rumors that's she's incapable of manifesting marks. For Tim, though, his parents wanted him to have rumors of being incapable of forming marks. It served their purpose better for him being the cunning Drake heir.

The deception started from birth, so no one but the Drakes know of Tim's ability to form marks [and the Drake parents never see the marks they leave behind on their child].

The Waynes, long before Tim entered their life, were aware of these rumors. Thus, when Tim demands to become Robin, he doesn't correct their assumptions.

Bruce is a callous fucker to Tim at the start. If Tim can't be hurt emotionally, then Bruce's ill-treatment of him is fine (which is flawed logic. The markless can be emotionally hurt, and they still deserve kindness, dignity, and respect even if they couldn't. Bruce was mentally fucked up, but it doesn't excuse his treatment).

Eventually, Bruce comes to the second realization that Tim should still be treated well even if it doesn't hurt him regardless. The man's behavior is better, but he still has the notion in mind that Tim can't be emotionally hurt. He uses this for missions and to downplay the way his other kids treat Tim (specifically Jason and Damian when they first meet Tim).

Tim gets used to a rotation of insult-names: Robot Robin, heartless, markless (said insultingly), cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard, etc.

He's also subject to a TON of misunderstandings. People are more reluctant to love him due to the belief that he can't love them back. He gets yelled at and told off for "masking/faking his emotions" when he's actually being genuine.

Which adds to his hurt :)

He also has to pretend not to grieve his parents when they die :(

Due to how rare markless are, the Bats don't meet "another" one until after the BruceQuest. When they chat with this person, they realize how many misconceptions they have about them (such as the markless being incapable of feelings. In fact, they accidentally offend that person when they tell the other they don't need to fake their emotions in front of the Bats. Safe to say, the markless individual becomes incensed when they realize how they've been treating their own markless family member).

This would be at least four (probably closer to five) years after Tim first became Robin. The entire family has a meltdown.

Tim, on the other hand, is used to the treatment the Bats have been giving him and becomes incredibly uncomfortable with them trying to care for his feelings and whatnot. It's rocky for a long while as everyone tries to seek forgiveness for something Tim bitterly doesn't hold against them (he is lying to them after all).

Tim rarely, if ever, views his own marks. The last time he checked was when he was having his identity crisis after Robin was taken from him. His entire body, from head to toe, had cracks in it. There was a giant, gaping crack on his back for the metaphorical stab in the back it was.

And we haven't even gotten to when the Bats figure out Tim was never markless :)

[teaboot]

I’m sending this anonymously but this is NOT anon hate

You are such a good person, i think. Your latest post(as of 4:10pm Arizona, US time) spoke to me really hard. My father is a cop, in the united states, arizona, duh. And he used to be such a good person, he was a security guard and a damn good one too, and later in he became a prison guard because it paid better, and then he joined the police force.

I’d like to think that hes one of the good ones, and for the most part he is. A lot of my delinquent friends over the years who’ve had run-ins with him say that he gets them breaks, he takes care of them, hes a good cop. I’ve even seen body camera footage of him in the field and i’m proud to say that hes my dad. He calls out bad actors where he sees them, and he gets punished for it. He doesnt see the system or how his punishments are by design. And he continues turning in his cog, begrudgingly, and slightly out of time, but he thinks hes making a difference

Sorry for the ramble and essay, i just wanted to say that i really like your blog and i think you are a very nice human being. Thank you for sharing your perspective.

P.s. i’m totally basing an oc off of your outlook on security. You strike me as more of a superhero than a security guard.

-🦕 anon

Oh, that’s a super flattering take and a valuable perspective- so thank you! But I’m a gullible dumbass, and not even an incredibly smart or fit one- I just want people to be happy and safe. That’s all. And I don’t want to BE a cop, I’ve NEVER wanted to be a cop, but every time the request comes around I feel like I’m wearing down.

I keep wondering if I could help MORE in a position like that.

Probably like your dad did.

Here, people know they’re safe with me because I shut down the gunhappy jerks, but I don’t know how long it would take to truly make a difference in public security, or how many of my morals I’d have to compromise to get to that point

I feel objectively like a system so archaic and flawed can’t be changed from the inside, but another part of me says that you don’t need to change an entire system to make a difference where it counts

I believe that so many bad situations and life-changing moments can be diverted or changed by a single person in the right place at the right time- and I figure, if I trust myself to do the right thing and BE the right person, shouldn’t I do my best to put myself in those places?

But good intentions, roads to hell, you know? I don’t WANT to be a cop. But I want to be able to DO SOMETHING about the thinks I dislike seeing in conflicts. SOMEONE has to be willing to do that, right?

I’m not religious, you know? But the devil can be very convincing

[machveil]

What do you HC König to look like under the hood?

..this is for scientific reasons , nothing nefarious going on here 👀👀

okay, so I have some Fun Thoughts, might get angsty (?), but overall we’re grooving🎀✨

CW: mention of a gun misfiring + shrapnel, past injury

[big sigh] crooked roman nose, and he’s got a big nose. I know it in my heart. very pronounced, his nose bridge is defined, but I’m a whore for a good crooked nose and I just. I know he has one, look away from me. as much as König is anxious over his physical appearance, I don’t think he hates his nose in particular or anything - like, yeah, it’s busted and another thing someone could stare at or whisper about, but it’s the least of his personal concerns. could he have it fixed? absolutely, he has the cash for it, but I think his mindset is ‘this could get broken again, why bother’

I don’t know, I just see him and I picture this man has a honkin’ nose

sad, wet König has sad, wet eyes. we know those baby blues anywhere, them icy eyes, but I think they’re always a little wet. he’s just one of those people who’s eyes always look a little glossy even when he’s not feeling any particularly strong emotion. he could be brushing his teeth and his eyes look wet

also, with his eyes in mind, he’s got long eyelashes. just a brief mention because, not that he cries regularly - far from it, but when he does? miserable little meow meow, he’s got big, fat tears clumping to his eyelashes as he sniffles (very snotty, sorry) and sobs (choked and broken, again, very sorry)

oh baby, man has thick, slightly upturned eyebrows. for as fearsome and intimidating as the Colonel is, he has resting miserable face. his eyebrows are thick, a couple stragglers that are longer than the rest (old man eyebrow moment). they naturally look like he’s knitting his eyebrows, even when his face is resting. he actually looks so pitiful and miserable when he actually furrows his brows, just a dramatic upturn

he’s ginger. in my head, he’s ginger. as much as I love hearing König with different hair colors, he’s got long, luscious copper hair to me. now, I’m not saying my personal opinion is objectively correct, but I have three photos that I want you to look at because please. please imagine sad, wet König with copper hair for me (picture one, picture two, and picture three). I’m a ginger König truther, I just have to put it out here

also, you heard me right. long hair. gorgeous, long locks of hair. let me paint you a picture, and by paint you a picture I mean here’s another Pinterest link. please! big, muscular man, the back of a Greek statue, and he has his pretty copper hair braided? ough, fucking manifesting him. and he has a lot of hair, it’s thick. he can’t be bothered to always brush it - can you imagine this behemoth of a man with the worst bed head ever? knots and matted down clumps of hair, stray strands poking out every which way - and when the sun hits his hair it looks a little more on the blonde side. I just think he’d be so pretty with copper hair guys, have I won someone over? do you believe me and my ginger König propaganda?

freckles!! as much as I love König having freckles, I don’t think he’d enjoy having them. and they’re not just under his hood, mind you, man is covered in them from head to toe. while his face is definitely coated in them, I think his shoulders and upper back got hit the hardest with them, also his arms, but more so his biceps. again, absolutely covered in them, but those areas are slammed with them

back to his face, he’s plastered. chin to forehead, ears dotted with some too. as an adult no one really comments on them because he wears the hood, very few actually know what he looks like, but as a kid? maybe it’s because he’s so heavily freckled, but that was a sore point that kids poked fun at him for. he’s carried that with him into adulthood, sometimes he’ll wear a balaclava around the house when he feels particularly bad about it - but even then, he still sees the freckles around his eyes

okay, so, firm believer he has facial scars, right? but I don’t think they’re from deployments or anything in the field, I think they’re from when he was a rookie. I saw one (1) post about it and it’ll live in my head forever (I wish I saved it, it was a recommended post on my feed that vanished). König has facial scars from shrapnel. this is really early König I’m talking about, predeceasing the balaclava and sniper hood. either his own gun or someone’s training next to him (I lean towards another rookie, I eat up the angst of it being something that was out of his control, don’t mind me), but there was a misfire and shrapnel got his face

I think prior to the misfire he still had a couple nicks and smaller scars from his childhood on his face. maybe a kid pushed him a little too hard and a piece of gravel got him or something. but this? granted, it was a total accident, but it shatters his heart. everything heals up fine, luckily it missed his eye, but half his face is scarred over in various spots - short and long streaks, rough skin covering where freckles had been

present day, as much as he hides his face for the sake of his identity, I think the main contributor are his scars. since that accident he’s gotten a few more minor scars to his face, mostly faded and barely visible, but the shrapnel scars are what he’s really hiding

I think his lips are on the thinner side, quite chapped too. in the same vein, I’ll also mention his teeth - König has nice white teeth, they’re just a little crooked. obviously, he’s very smoochable, got some kissable lips. he likes to joke about how, because his teeth aren’t perfect, he’d be easy to recognize by his dental records. he finds this very amusing

I think those are all my current thoughts on what he looks like! uuh, optional opinion I go back and forth on is him having stubble. I like to think he keeps clean shaven a majority of the time, but sometimes he’ll let his stubble grow out. sorry König beard truthers, I cannot get on board that train

[waitforyrlove]

alexa play . . . hands on me by Ariana Grande .ᐟ.ᐟ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ summary: You and Matthew, never liked each other, principally after an incident at a party, and when you found out your childhood bestfriend was kissing the person you hated the most, making intrusive thoughts take care of your body.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: Smut, rough sex, fem!receiving, degradation kink, spitting, enemies trope!! || ⸝⸝ author’s note: this is for @fawnchives !

The dazzling LED lights dominate your sight, enveloping your vision as you walk thru the party your best friend has just kicked off.

several couples getting drunk and making out in the corners, girls getting loose on the dance floor by the song “Hands on me” by Ariana Grande, why not join on the dance floor?

Making your way to the dance floor, excusing yourself to pass thru multiple people, the party was definitely crowded.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you get closer to the destination, put everything good in your mind disappears when you bump in the person you wanted to see the least.

Matthew Sturniolo.

You and him never liked each other, and had a big rivalry since high school, well firstly he was always a bitch to you, secondly you couldn’t stand seeing his attractive face structure everywhere.

The red cup filled with beer, spilled on his shirt, well lucky him it was a black shirt, if it was a white one it would be worse.

Im met with the pair of his blue eyes staring at me deadly, it scared you at the same time, but why be scared at a two faced loser?

“You never watch where you walk don’t you?” His gaze meet your body, taking a long up and down look, observing every detail of the outfit you had picked.

“Why are you such a asshole?” You comment, your gaze meeting his a light chuckle leaving his mouth.

“You owe me a new shirt, y’know?”

“Too bad, in your dreams maybe it happens.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes staring to walk away, he watches your figure disappearing into the crowded dance floor.

03:46AM

Multiple songs you liked were on and that made the party enjoyable, you smile with your friend Lizzie as you walk to a couch together refilling both of your cups, sounds of giggles escaping your lips as you two were enveloped in talking shit about people you didn’t like.

“Y’know, I hate Matth-“ you cut off yourself as you look to a corner right in your front, but still a bit far away, your eyes met the tall figure of Matthew as he basically as sucking the neck of your childhood bestfriend, Mila.

A strong grip on the cup is planted by the strength your hands make, Mila knew you hated him but she didn’t help it and offer herself to the guy you despised.

“That two faced cunt.” You mumble, Lizzie looking at you confused, you land your cup on the nearest table, beginning to walk outside for some fresh air.

Sitting on the crosswalk, as the wind hits your face you look to the street cars passing by, but one car calls out your attention.

Matthew’s Lamborghini Urus, parked the closest to you, a wicked grin forms in your face as your mind forms, why not ruin his car?

There was a lot of possibilities to ruin it, but the easiest was keying his car.

You suddenly remember you have needle in your shirt, after a problem had happened with your pink jersey, removing carefully the sharp object, standing up and walking up close to the driver’s passenger part, kneeling down, you started keying his car, damaging the shiny black painting, a white long line in his passenger door.

You smile to yourself, nothing better that knowing how man act when their precious car is ruined, and Matt’s car being ruined made you happy, he had what he deserved.

As you stand up once again, planting the clothe needle again in your jersey turning around, you meet face to face with Matthew.

Oh fuck.

In your mind you thought this would work because if you damaged and you disappeared after, he wouldn’t know it was you, maybe he could have an idea, but still.

His gaze turns to a anger look as he looks at you, he had been watching you all the time, and this wasn’t good, he crossed his arms against his chest, his muscles flexing as his voice starts echoing thru your ears, shivers being sent down your spine.

“You think you’re that clever don’t you?” He says, before you could reply, he shuts you off immediately by speaking again.

“Not only you bump into me with your clumsiness, spilling your beer on my shirt that now, you had to ruin my fucking car.” Every word that he spit out of his mouth he got even closer to you.

“Well maybe I have my reasons to key your car.”

“Are you mad that Mila was kissing me?” The anger in his voice was still visible, but he couldn’t help it and let a chuckle escape his mouth as a smirk is on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe I am because she was my bestfriend, and she knows damn well that I hate you!” You exclaim, you cross your arms just like he had, as you interlock eyes with him.

“That doesn’t give you any stupid fucking reason to key my car.” You open your mouth to comment, but before, a hand creeps up on your waist turning you around forcedly guiding you to the passengers side.

“Let me go!” You utter, as you try to remove his hand off you, but his grip was too strong.

“Why don’t you shut up that dirty fucking mouth of yours, hm?” He whispers in your ear as you can feel the smirk he has on his face, opening the door for you, you enter on the car, sitting and remaining silent for the rest of the ride, wherever he was taking you.

The whole car ride was silent, after he drove it to a luxury neighborhood, you knew he was driving to his house, his jaw was clenched most of the time and he was going 305 km/h, it was too fast to your liking.

As he parked his car, opening the electronic garage, he quickly left his side, going the other way to open yours, he grabbed you by the wrist making you gasp at the sudden act.

“You’re too mad just for a little damage in your car, I was having fun at the party.” You lie thru gritted teeth, for a moment it was but the second Matt was there, it had ruin everything.

“You’re a damn brat, maybe we can put you in your place isn’t it?” He states, his jaw still hardly clenched, his side profile being heavenly, like a sorta of Greek God had structured it.

You roll your eye as he guides you thru the big mansion he owned, every part of the place with different paintings and different furniture.

As you both go upstairs, he leads you to his room, the same time you step your feet inside, he is locking the door and pinning you against the wall, your faces being inches close.

“Now tell me hm? You wanted to be Mila didn’t you.” His strong cologne filled your nostrils, the same way your sweet scent filled his.

His hands creep up to your inner thigh, a sudden gasp leaving your mouth as you remain silent.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Matt utters, his soft lips attacking your neck, leaving wet kisses and marks, as his right hand kept going even more up arriving close to your pink laced panties.

His hand went fast to your core, how fast it was taken of there, as he picks you up in bridal style, positioning myself in his bed, as he tops me.

He pulls away my pink jersey throwing somewhere across his room, if someone ever told me i would be getting naked with the guy I hated, i would probably slapped me across the face.

His large hands find way to my denim skirt yanking it off, now i’m only left in my match bra and panties, how nice.

“You don’t need to lie, you’ve always wanted this as much as I did.” He commented ripping off my bra, my mouth wide how easily he had the strength to rip off the fabric.

“You owe me a new bra, idiot.”

He chuckles, as he pushes you close to him, his face leaning close to your stomach as he plants kisses along the way.

He gets each time closer to your core, making you clench around nothing, he pulls your panties to the side, with no warning, his tongue is deep down in my pussy, as a long moan leaves my lips.

I can feel the stupid smirk as he eats me out, his hands gripping my thighs to not let me move, he pulls leans up again, getting close to my face once again, smashing his lips against mine in a heavy roughy kiss, making me taste my juices in his tongue.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.” The nickname made me wetter more then I was, i obey, sticking my tongue out, as he yanks his two fingers into, and i instinctively suck on them, dripping them with my saliva.

A wicked grin is planted on his face as the two digits are on my core, rubbing my puffy clit, as my mouth is open, soft moans leaving it which was music to his ears.

“Feels good getting pleasure by your enemy doesn’t it.” He expresses as his hands keep rubbing your clit faster.

“i still fucking hate you.” You spit it out, a loud moan leaving your mouth right after.

“The way your hips buck for more, it says otherwise doll.”

The please accumulated in your body leaves as he takes off the two fingers that were in your clit to his mouth, you watch him suck on it, tasting yourself once again.

Suddenly, his hands are removing his belt and his baggy jeans, seeing him in his Calvin Klein boxers, his hard cock wanting to be more than released.

Pulling his underwear down his dick hitting his stomach, you never had an idea he was that long, you can be a little thing but you like that long.

He leans down to your core, a full spit landing on it making you wince, your juices and his spit now combined.

He strokes himself a few times before slamming into you, a groan leaving his mouth as you moan in synchronization with him.

My head is thrown back, as he doesn’t give me time to adjust fully starting to thrust in and out of me, he wasn’t just some couple of inches, he had enough inches to bruise my cervix and leave me hanging for more.

“You liked being fuck like a slut don’t you?” He chuckles, keeping thrusting, my mind couldn’t even form words, my back arching for more, his dick had the perfect size to hit my g-sport.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, fuck.. I love it.” You moan our, your head throw back in his pillows, his hands finding way to smack your ass, the real meaning of pain and pleasure.

He smirks, as he gets closer to my face pulling me in a rough kiss, my moans being muffled by it, his thrusts were each time more rough then the before, he wasn’t like other guy that would fuck a girl just to cum inside her and leave, oh he was for sure waiting to see your face knowing he was the one giving you all the pleasure.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna.” Before you could finish your sentence you cum all around his dick making a mess in the sheets below.

“Making a mess on my dick like the fucking slut you are.”

He pulls out, stroking his dick a few times before painting your lower and upper body with his cum, before collapsing on top of you.

Sweaty beads were formed during the act, your panty and heavy breaths in sync together, as you catch your breath all you could hear was his deep voice echoing thru your ears.

“Y’know, instead of watching me suck your best friends neck, if you ever need my hands on you, don’t be scared to ask, it is better then keying my car for that attention.”

[reingkings]

Gi-hun can’t hold grudges, and what that means for Inhun/457.

I was thinking of this the other day. I don’t consider myself to be the type of person who holds grudges, but looking at Gi-hun I feel like he puts me to shame.

Disclaimer: I don’t hate the following characters this is just an analysis.

Example A: Sae-byeok. We all love her in the fandom, but if you think about it– Gi-hun only knew her a couple of days. The first time they met, she stole from him causing him a lot of trouble. When they met again, she didn’t even apologize and was generally rude. And yet, Gi-him was willing to put his life on the line to defend her from 101. And then, he was willing to fight Sang-woo for her. He goes on to take care of her brother for her, too.

Example B: Speaking of Sang-woo, he betrayed Gi-hun pretty early on during dalgona. I think to some extent Gi-hun knew this but he still let it go. He only got angry when Sang-woo pushed the other player during the bridge game, then with Sae-byeok. And yet, even in the end when Sang-woo tried to kill him (and stabbed him through the hand) and he needed the money for his mother’s treatment - he was willing to leave the money so they could both leave alive.

Example C: The loan shark. Dude literally beat him up, humiliated him, and made him sign an agreement to sell his organs. And yet, in season 2, Gi-huh is willing to team up with them and pay them to help find the Salesman.

Example D: Jung-bae. Jung-bae is definitely another favorite, and I think we definitely have a bias towards him, but objectively he was not the greatest friend. For one, he was the one who introduced Gi-hun to horse racing, precipitating Gi-hub’s money troubles. When Gi-hun needed his help, he also didn’t lend Gi-hun money for his mother’s treatment (I don’t think he necessarily was to blame for her death, but it is a huge disappointment). They fell out of contact and reunited in the game, where he betrayed Gi-hun again by voting O. This is particularly cold-hearted when you think about the fact that the money pool would only only climb if more players die the next game. That’s what the O’s bank on. Yet, Gi-hun was never able to stay angry, and trusted him to the very end.

It kind of shows that Gi-hun can’t really distinguish from good or bad, and he is uniquely soft-hearted. If someone kicked while he was down, he would probably apologize.

To someone like In-ho, who pretty much seems to be the opposite of Gi-hun in every possible way, I think this kind of attitude makes him angry. But I think at the same time it’s what causes his obsession. In a self-indulgent evil world with bored rich people, organ traffickers, and cannibals (probably) — a person like Gi-hun is an impossibility.

Therefore, in order to satisfy his curiosity, In-ho has to test the boundaries of Gi-hun’s humanity. He’s willing to indulge Gi-hun without letting him escape. (For example, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Salesman was at the airport when Gi-hun was ready to leave for America. This has In-ho written all over it). He lets Gi-hun join the games, but he won’t let him keep the tracker. He lets the players vote each round, but ensures the X’s are never the majority. He lets Gi-hun stage a rebellion, but won’t let him succeed.

And yet, In-ho would rather let Gi-hun think he died than reveal to Gi-hun that he is the Frontman – arguably something that would hurt him even more.

Is this subconsciously a way out that he’s leaving himself? He knows Gi-hun could forgive him being a coward, because Gi-hun is capable of forgiving anything.

Or is it something worse. I think if you meet someone that can forgive anything, then the most special existence to that person — isn’t it the one person they are capable of hating?

[stillness-in-green]

Some thoughts on The Discourse about the last BNHA cover

(Note: This Discourse was on Twitter. I don’t know how much of this may have been said here on Tumblr, so consider this either my contribution or just me reporting back on drama from other fronts.)

So, I saw a lot of back and forth over there between people who didn’t like the cover and people who did, and I spent a little while mulling it over. It seemed to me that the people who didn’t like it had a good point, but one they were not articulating particularly well, possibly thanks to the character limit and possibly also because the people talking about it tended to phrase their objections in sarcastic, consciously exaggerated terms because that’s the language months and months of dealing with the truly insufferable Horikoshi Defense Squad on Twitter primed them to use.

So what is the point?  Basically this: In going for the lazy/easy callback in both the cover design and Dai (plate-hair kid)'s role in the final chapter more generally, Horikoshi landed on an "everything comes full circle" ending when what the story desperately needed was an indicator of change.

We didn't need to know that a kid with low self-confidence and nothing to speak of in the quirk department can still become a Pro Hero if he[1] wants to.  We already knew that because it's what the whole story of BNHA was about!  Deku passing the torch/paying it forward is nice if all you care about is Deku's personal arc, but it's sheer reductiveness if you care about literally anything else.  If there was going to be a kid getting Deku's encouragement and help at the end, if that's the ending Hori was absolutely set on, it shouldn't have been the Deku Redux kid; it shouldn't have been the weak kid who has already been metaphorically proven capable of becoming a Hero.

1: And of course it would be a boy.

It should have been the troubled kid, the one from the bad family situation, the one who isn't sure whether he even believes in this Hero thing.  It should have been the kid who, if nothing about Hero Society had changed, would’ve been rejected by the whole corrupt system—in so many words, the Tenko Redux kid.  That's the one who we saw could not become a Hero under the previous system.  That's who we needed to demonstrate the system's improvement.

Instead, all we get is Deku helping himself.  And it fits, I guess, because “himself” is the only sort of person Deku ever wanted to save anyway—remember that in the very first chapter, Deku tells All Might that he wants to be a Hero because he was never “saved” as a kid and so he thinks saving is the coolest thing ever.  Implicitly, then, Deku wanted to be the kind of Hero who could have saved the kid he was, and that tendency to reserve his compassion for people he can recognize himself in—the crying children and the Hero wannabes—is consistent throughout the series.  Dai, then, simply becomes the very last of these examples, the chance for Deku to tell his middle school self that he, too, can be a great Hero.

And that’s quite a choice, isn’t it?  Take a second to consider the implications there. The metaphorical parallel Deku helps is his middle school self, not his childhood self—there’s no evidence that Dai was bullied on the same level young Izuku was, and we sure didn’t see anyone telling him to jump off a roof.  So, who does save those children, then, in this grand, improved version of Hero Society?  Does anyone?

Well, not really. Not that we’re shown. Indeed, the child who was the closest analogue to young Izuku—a weak and seemingly quirkless boy who stuck his neck out for other rejected children, who still stubbornly wanted to be a Hero despite a parent's disapproval—was Tenko, and Deku pointedly did not save him.

To be clear, I don’t mean that just in the sense that Deku failed to save the adult Tenko became, but even in the emotional sense that the series clearly wants me to believe Deku succeeded at, the saving of the boy's heart? I don’t think Deku even managed that.  Sure, he might have protected the echo of that child from a few memories, might have held his hands for a few exchanges of dialogue, but then the boy transformed back into the form of the Villain he'd become and was swallowed down the spiritual maw of the man from whom society failed to save Tenko to begin with! And what was Deku doing as this happened? Absolutely nothing but yelling impotently as he got blown backward and out of the mindscape.

Imagine that Deku had found some way to cheer up Izumi Kouta only for Muscular to kill the kid thirty seconds later.  No one would be saying, “I think Deku still saved him—his heart, anyway,” if Deku got Kouta to smile and admit that Heroes were actually pretty cool only to do nothing but scream helplessly as he watched Muscular pulverize Kouta’s ribcage with one gentle squeeze.[2]

2: Mind you, this comparison is flawed!  Unlike AFO’s vestige, Muscular doesn’t turn up to kill a child as a direct result of Deku’s own actions. Also unlike the events of the final battle, Deku doesn't jump up and personally administer the killing blow to the still-screaming victim, either.

It just leaves me thinking about some of the stuff @codenamesazanka has said about how the narrative treats Shigaraki and Deku helping him: not as something Deku has a duty to do, not something Hero Society on the whole owes Shigaraki (and all the other metaphorical expy/future Shigarakis), but rather a bonus, a nice extra, a demonstration to shine up Deku's Hero cred because he's making efforts no one else would bother with and that no one would reasonably expect him to make. It's not Deku’s job to save the Tenkos or the young Izukus of the world; apparently that just falls to society at large.

So then, what was the point of making Tenko/Tomura such an extreme case of someone who started in a similar place to Deku?  Why make him, also, a weak kid who was told he couldn't be a Hero, if you're not going to have Deku save him in the way no one saved Deku himself?

From where I'm sitting, the answer is, "It seemed like a good idea to Horikoshi at the time, but proved to be poorly thought out."  But if Deku failing to save his own closest childhood analogue was where the story was going the whole time, then Shigaraki should never have been used to parallel Deku to begin with.  It's just a damned waste of Shigaraki as a character, an insult to everything he represented, to use him for ~the parallels~ throughout the entirety of the story except the very beginning and the very end.

Anyway, Pro Heroes are bullshit and the ending should have been them being radically reconceived from the ground up with input from all the people they failed to save.  But again, if you have to still have Heroes-qua-Heroes at the end, and you have to have some stupid thematic echo because you as an author think callbacks are the single most compelling storytelling tool of all time, then everything we got on Dai should have been for Scissors-kun instead, and here I am very much including Dai's scene before the first war. An unsettling scene of a strange child with his mouth sewn shut, stuck in a straitjacket in a dark room should have been the last thing we saw before launching into the day of the raids, an apparent element for the future in the same way that so many future Villains were first shown in the wake of Stain's arrest.

See, Shigaraki’s own destructiveness is what ultimately frees Scissors-kun from the basement, “saving” this rejected, abused child in a way no Hero ever managed or even knew to try, just as Shigaraki brought light and a strange sort of hope to the lives of so many others whom Heroes failed.  However, Shigaraki couldn't carry his ambitions through to the end. He was never able to meet the kid he indirectly saved, never able to offer that appallingly abused victim an avenue for his signature brand of rough justice. Heroes stopped him from doing so. So then, who will help Scissors-kun?

If we’re to believe that the story's protagonist has made a real difference, that Deku and his classmates have changed the world for the better, then we don't need to see them helping a kid who we already know is going to turn out fine because “he” aleady did. We need to see them help the people that previously only Villains would have helped, picking up the torch they struck from Shigaraki’s hands.

So sure, keep the scene with Granny Evil and Scissors-kun if you must, to show that it’s not only Heroes but also the broader Hero Society that’s changed. After that, though, show Deku stepping in.  Show him taking an interest in this kid as a way to keep his promises—to Shigaraki, that the rejection and obliviousness that he sought to destroy have indeed been destroyed and will remain so, and to Spinner, that Deku will remember Shigaraki for the rest of his life. 

When Deku is older and in a position to give advice to a kid who’s floundering and uncertain of what to do with his life because of what people around him say about him, make that character echo the characters the old system failed to save, not the character who the entire story proved would do just fine.

For god's sake, ditch Deku Redux.

Now, I know the obvious rejoinder here: We can’t use Deku’s story to say that BNHA already showed us that Dai would be fine because Dai has a quirk where Deku did not, therefore Deku’s path would not be open to Dai.  To this, I would reply that neither Deku nor Dai specify that Dai wants/is able to be a top Hero, merely that he be the kind of Hero people can admire—which the story has also already proven true!

Ojiro got into UA with nothing but one (1) extra limb.

Manual has a perfectly middling quirk that turned out to be absolutely crucial in two different wars because it was the right quirk at the right time.

Wash’s quirk makes strong bubbles. 

Like, this list is not short.  Manifest Plates might or might not make Dai Hero Billboard material, but one of the major points of the endgame was the sublime and noble value of helping when you can, in the way that you can.  So to reiterate, we didn’t need that to be proven again in the epilogue.

If anything, going the route of retreading the same story makes the epilogue much worse! Not only do we not get to see how this society is helping the people the old society most profoundly failed—victims who fall through the cracks and become Villains—but in seeing yet another a weak kid being mocked for his heroic aspirations, we find that we’ve barely moved a step beyond the exact same place we started.

That’s the message Horikoshi chose to go with, for both the closing chapters of the story and the story’s final volume cover.  Truly, as art that summarizes the story goes, it’s a masterful choice!  And that's the whole problem. The cover of Volume 42 is a perfect illustration of the self-absorbed, cynical, cyclical nature of BNHA's endgame. Little wonder, then, that it's hated by the same people who hated said endgame.

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

Are SKZ genuinely good people?

I’m gonna preface this by saying I do not know them and am not affiliated with them. This isn’t fact, take this as speculation. This is just a tarot reading for fun. Dont @ me if they have some crazy insane scandal.

ALSO, why did this end up as a psych evaluation? 😭

Probably my most draining reading to date. Like by the end I could barely type.

Overall

They’re all generally and objectively at least decent people. Albeit, it depends on what lense they’re viewed through and what you find acceptable and what you don’t. They act like you’d expect from Koreans culturally except the things like…Thatre genuinely insane and go against human rights, obviously. But some of those things may make them seem like bad people. Some of them also may be morally ambiguous, and easily swayed by their friends this way or that.

Chan

Generally yes, despite his issues, he’s an objectively good person. But he can be very harsh and aggressive, and so blunt that he hurts people and doesn’t necessarily care? Because he’s developed to a point where he’s starting to realize he can’t fault himself when other people complain about things that just aren’t true but it’s also blinded him from the fact that sometimes he has to look at their perspective and explain his reasonings and actions, which can make him seem like a bad person to others. He also overthinks things and forms opinions based on those things. Meaning he can glance at one person and judge/stereotype them very very heavily, and run with that completely. He can also criticize people to the point it’s flat out cruel without realizing it. He’s also very sensitive and emotionally immature. So generally he’s a good person objectively, but subjectively others may beg to differ.

Minho

He’s objectively a good person. He’s solved a lot of his character issues by a lot of inner exploration and thinking deeply about his failed relationships and the reasons for their failure. He’s tried and failed things and he’s learned from what he’s failed. He can be a little vain and moody but he’s compassionate and graceful in the face of those he loves, which is honestly a good thing. He has a strong will and a strong mind, and is constantly growing and probably has someone in his life inspiring this growth. His spirit is very tied to his finances. He likes to be financially stable and independent. Probably the type who wants to be on the level where his family is set for generations. He’s very lucky in that aspect. He also does a lot of charity. But he’s also an overthinker who scrutinizes and judges people a lot. His mind is restless and honestly is probably the type who cannot sleep because his mind is constantly working and working and he’s always thinking. (I can honestly relate. My parents used to get mad at me for it because I’d be trying to sleep then next thing they knew I was in their doorway asking them a random question that came to me. He was probably the same growing up.) he’s never satisfied though. He doesn’t particularly like or find joy in much of anything. (Can relate) and nothing can hold his interest for too long an/or satisfy him. He’s very lucky and probably trusts in the universe a lot. Also I randomly started crying reading this and I was wondering why he’s so uncharacteristically chatty and his energy isn’t as stable as usual so like…Do with that information what you will. He’s, despite what most may think, mildly optimistic. Or at least by nature he is. But that has probably been hammered down into the ground. He’s also very lucky did I mention that? He loves those around him very fiercely and unconditionally. It’s hard for him to even like let alone love someone or something. But once he does there’s no letting go. His love is deep and it’s strong. And he’s always there for others.

Okay I’m getting sidetracked but like some of these cards I don’t think are even on the subject this man is like going through it emotionally. Like he’s DEPRESSED DEPRESSED. I’m talking sobbing, unable to even move or think having a mental breakdown heart racing blood pressure rising whole body trembling thinking he’s dying panic attack. So.

I feel bad.

Despite how volatile and turbulent he is inside, outside he’s serene and is extremely good at keeping secrets. This is the Scorpio coming through. People, even family and friends, only know things about him he wants them to know. Nothing more.

He’s happy with friends and loved ones though. And…Pleasure.

This man can’t go from having mouth diarrhea to having a panic attack to being horny that’s not how that works. Between him and Hyunjin I’m pretty sure I’ll be a leaky faucets the entire reading because WHY AM I CRYING AGAIN? I’m not even sad.

Also Laffy Taffy by D4L randomly came to mind. Dunno if that’s me or him.

Either way we’re done here before III end up with an existential crisis.

What’s also interesting is I started with him not because I necessarily wanted to but I was physically incapable of reading for any of the others first and reading for him kept calling to me.

Do with that what you will.

Changbin

He kind of is. This is another thing where he’s more morally gray because of cultural things. He’s optimistic and compassionate with a lot of trust in the things around him, and the Korean…Bubble in general. He’s also very very lucky. Another whose spirit is…Connected to more material things. But here I think it means worldly attachments, desires, etc. like money and relying on the people around him to feel good. He’s very destructive. Things he does, has done, will continue to do, and will do have, will, and are ruining things for a lot of people. He destroys. I’m getting here he might’ve done something in the past or will do something in the future that may put the entire group at risk. But I’m not about to go into detail about that because I don’t wanna know.

Randomly thought of Beomhan. Which…Coincidentally he had an incident.

He’s a courageous free spirit with a love or life. He’s easily excitable and very very easy to please and make happy. He has a lot of secrets, though, even if he doesn’t outwardly seem like the type who does. He’s very volatile and secretive.

I’ve also been getting some odd hyper fixation with Hyunjin vibes this entire time. Like some parts had that underlying ‘Hyunjin, Hyunjin’. This isnt even the Hyunjin stan in me speaking because I’m never like that and it’s more…Detached. This is coming from Changbin. Either he’s currently obsessed, has done or will do something to him, or has done or will do something with him; either one.

He’s another that’s not easily satisfied. He constantly wants more and more and more and more. He craves it. Specifically affection and attention. I’m getting he may be insecure and craving validation.

He’s very very intelligent and theoretical.

He takes a lot of things for granted and is quick to throw them away for the thrill. People, things, anything. He gets bored when things are too familiar. He loses motivation when things are too easy.

He’s working through some of these issues though. Probably in therapy. (Unwillingly.)

This card popped out with another Hyunjin like underlying energy. Specifically two of chalices. And I’m getting a strong love indicator.

Man why are we hyperfixating on Hyunjin today don’t come for me for this this isn’t even my doing 😭

Hyunjin

True neutral. The good and the bad balance out. I’m also getting compromise here. Like he would’ve been entirely one way or entirely another if he didn’t have one particular person to tell him not to engage in certain behaviors.

So.

Getting this person may have had a Libra moon but that’s not important.

(Got a specific thing here but I’m not about to start shit so imma mind my business 💆🏾‍♀️)

He sees himself as an absolute failure and I’m going to pretend I didn’t get the vibes I got but like…Can someone get this man therapy before he goes off the deep end?

LITERALLY?

Imma shut up now

Anyways, he’s so loving and naive and impulsive. TOO loving and naive and impulsive. To the point where his morals are so easily swayed by those around him. The company you keep is a reflection of you is strong in this one.

He can be more on the conservative side.

He had solid foundations in life and is very very materially secure and values that. He spends money Willy nilly and throws it everywhere not because he’s not good with it but because he simply has the means to. I get the vibes he probably has some very good investments going.

He moves from one thing to the next quickly. He can never stick around. He likes challenges but if he doesn’t perfect it quick enough he throws it away. He doesn’t like things to be easy but he hates when things are hard. It’s like there’s a constant push and pull nothing can ever quite meet.

He’s wise, fair, and open-minded. He cares about how he’s perceived, and is very shockingly very perceptive. He’s also manipulative because he cares so much about how he’s perceived.

He values equality and unity. He also values balance and his close bonds, specifically with his friends.

It reminds me of that lyric that’s like “Cause you only listen to your fucking friends.”

And it’s not a Hyunjin reading if he isn’t oddly horny.

He has a lot of fantasies and delusions. He will make up an elaborate scenario of his partner cheating on him and will become so convinced its intuition he’ll quite literally gaslight himself into thinking he’s right and any and everything the s/o does or says from that point will be twisted into confirmation. This goes for every relationship he has though.

He’s very kind.

He’s healing a lot from old wounds and trauma right now. But healing is also making it all surface and suffocate him. Probably restoring old bonds he probably shouldn’t have

Very impulsive and generous.

He’s been happier because of his group.

And sex. Because of fucking course.

Can you tell I’m already fed up with this reading? 😭

Han

He is. A very generous one at that. Just a very insecure one with 0 self esteem who needs the validation of others to keep himself from being severely and debilitatingly depressed.

He’s helpless and exhausted and can’t focus on anything anymore. His self esteem is probably getting worse and worse. Reminded me of when he had to stop and lay down on stage from what I assume is exhaustion just based on the vibes and body language.

He’s in pain and he’s suffering and there’s a lot of bitter truths here. He also probably wants people to break free of their delusions about him to relieve that pressure. May possibly do something stupid to do that.

But he’s lucky and convinced whatever the hell he believes in will deliver and everything will turn out for the best.

He’s patient, being careful, and working hard in the meantime. Just barely keeping himself afloat. He’s waiting for his chance to be happy.

He has no motivation. He’s burnt out, and taking things for granted and taking unnecessary risks. Which is directly contradicting the earlier statement. I think before is what he thinks he’s doing and this is what’s actually happening.

There’s such heavy emphasis on the sorrow and the pain and the suffering. He’s probably really really depressed right now.

Getting he’s on his knees crying and sobbing and begging for something.

Now I’m crying. I didn’t think he’d be another one to make me cry but I’m crying now and it’s most definitely just from this.

His hope is gone, he’s losing money for some reason, he invested so much into something and it failed, and nothing seems to be going right for him.

He’s impulsive and generous and life is going way too fast for him.

He’s very open and honest and knows how to channel his energy into things.

He’s finding happiness in the group, again. I feel like I’ve gotten this for all of them so far.

Felix

He is, and he hopes he is. Even if his energy is very scattered.

He’s going through a lot of difficulties right now, mentally and physically. There’s a threat to his security in some form.

Someone’s being extremely cruel and aggressive towards him and he’s feeling a lot of shame and guilt because of it, or maybe even doing so to someone he cares for and loves.

He’s trying to heal and lick his wounds but it’s so hard.

Getting heavy Bible and religious imagery here. He strives to apply that to his life because he believes it’ll help him be a better person. Probably praying a lot for the situation to get better.

He’s trying to solve all his issues as well as everyone else’s.

Definitely hiding something though.

Someone’s been indulging in more and more debauchery and it’s scaring him. Overindulging, always drunk and intoxicated. As a form of escapism. And he’s tried to help but he feels so out of control. And the person is probably addicted by now.

He’s restless and anxious. His mind is hyperactive.

He’s feeling more creative though. His will is stronger. So is his enthusiasm for his work.

Again, finding joy in his group.

Seungmin

He is. He’s healing and he has a renewed enthusiasm for life. He’s also reaching more of his potential. But he’s afraid. He’s sabotaging himself and he’s so acutely aware of his limitations:

He’s another whose heart and soul is connected to more worldly things. He’s also very opportunistic and money smart.

He’s lucky and all his wishes usually end up fulfilled, so he’s trusting in the universe at the moment that it’ll deliver for him.

He’s also very compassionate.

He’s content and satisfied with where he is, and I’m getting specifically that he feels very blessed at the moment. And even more generous than normal.

But he’s restless and his mind is running rampant.

He’s also being impulsive.

And I’m getting more of that debauchery and escapism influence here, but more vague because it’s Seungmin.

Jeongin

And finally, Jeongin. He’s a good person.

He knows you always need a balance and compromise in life. He’s balanced with a stable head on his shoulders. But he also stalls things and can be overly passive.

He’s feeling lost. There’s secrets and hidden truths and he’s being forced to hide things he’d rather not be involved with let alone be part of keeping under wraps.

Another who’s probably turning back to religion but not as much as Felix is.

He feels more liberated and rejuvenated now, though. More revitalized.

He’s ambitious and achieving a lot in his work due to his efforts. It he’s also struggling with balancing work and his personal life.

He’s in a lot of pain and suffering right now and there’s a lot around him.

Another who’s very money oriented but good with it.

He’s bored and taking life for granted because it no longer has the same risks.

He’s also being oddly vague which he usually isn’t.

There’s a lot of new things in his life. New feelings and maybe a new s/o. A lot of cameaderie and happiness with his group.

He’s trusting himself more and knows he’s going to overcome. Very disciplined and enduring. Determined he’ll get far.

[thewalrusespublicist]

Hello! Love your blog and your takes, objective and sane and well researched chefs kiss! I had a blast scrolling through it like it was my feed yesterday lol can you elaborate on klaus and Paul if possible? People mostly talk about them like it’s already understood but I don’t understand 😭 I’m kinda lost on their (all of them, including stu) dynamic during the hamburg years specifically when it comes to Paul

Aww thank you anon! Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol). So I really, really needed this. :)

Oh Paul vs/and the Exsis, it's quite a long one so buckle up.

Disclaimer: all of the people involved are essentially art kids/young adults who are famously the most exhausting people on the planet. Do not blame them for being dramatic, it's their natural state of being.

If we want to go into Paul and Klaus, we have to kind of start with the John, Paul and Stu. Now these three are a mess that's too big to go into here (though I have THOUGHTS about how Stu is utilised in the Beatles narrative that I'm more than happy to share if asked lmaooo). But in short(ish):

John and Paul had had an intense year and a bit of closeness. Then John meets Stu at art college.

John and Stu become c l o s e for many reasons (being peers, living together, similar artistic leanings + ego, Stu being a gentle guide to John, sharing art projects/poetry/long letters and feelings etc.) They became 'closer than two men' a friend had seen (remind us of anyone gang?). Most importantly, John could be open about his feelings with Stu in letters. If John had BPD which I subscribe too, I think Stu was his 'favourite person' and as Aunt Mimi said his 'special' and 'closest friend' from this period up until his death (though imho the transference back to Paul was starting prior to his death).

It's not clear what exactly happens as there's differing accounts but Stu uses his money to buy a new bass as John wants him to come to Scotland then Hamburg and play bass as he will 'look good'.

Paul doesen't like being relegated to the seat behind John and Stu when he used to sit next to John. He also isn't thrilled when he gets to Hamburg and not only does he get to sleep in the other room with just Pete but Stu cannot be arsed to play because he's hanging out with his hot new girlfriend Astrid (more on her in a sec). Our boy has spent a lot of money he doesen't have and given up on further education to be here and is jealous and annoyed.

Paul and Stu probably were friends and I think their mutual antipathy is overegged. HOWEVER, can't be denied that Paul is jealous of Stu and Stu is jealous of Paul (and getting flare-ups from increasing brain damage). John and Stu tease Paul and steal his money, Paul is mean to Stu (as are the others encouraged by John). Do I think John was playing games with both of them? Yup. They end up scuffling onstage because Paul said something about Astrid (not clear what, one account is that Paul said that Stu could borrow money off Astrid if he needed it which isn't really that bad a dig but who knows Yoko??).

Why is this dynamic important? Because it directly impacts the 'Exsis' (Klaus, Jurgen and Astrid's) group's relationship with Paul:

The Exsis were young artists living in Hamburg. They were artistic, cool, interesting and edgy. They were paramount in introducing the Beatles to cool new concepts, aesthetics and ideas. They also took themselves VERY seriously ie pretentious as all hell.

Astrid met Stu at Kaiserkeller and hit it off. They embarked on an all-consuming romance.

Letter from Stu to Astrid, c.1961

I've seen people say they were the proto-John and Yoko in terms of making their romance the whole world and influencing John years down the line and I can see that. With Astrid and Stu it's far more endearing though because they ARE young and the right age to have a relationship like that. Stu is popular with the Exsis in general and brings them into the Beatles group.

The Exsis didn't like or trust Paul. Astrid said later it was because Paul was 'too nice' which she herself admits is a ridiculous reason. The others also thought he was a bit of a show-off. It makes sense though if you're cool and edgy and want to stick it to the world to be sus about a guy being friendly show-off with seemingly no inner world. The other problem was a perfectly reasonable one imo, you're not going to like your friends frenemy who you don't connect with. Compound that with Paul not taking drugs as much as George or John and being in the other room and you begin to have a division.

Paul had been popular his whole life, like from what we know since-primary-school-popular. He had never been in this position before, let alone in a foreign country. I believe it became a bit of a brutal feedback loop. Paul's response to this type of behaviour consistently it to go more surface level, snide and passive aggressive. The natural response of any group with a designated 'ugh' person is to become more shady and exclusionary. The cycle continues and gets worse. Stu letters back home at this time says that in a shocking turn of events Paul is hated by everyone but Stu 'just feels sorry for him' (lmao OF COURSE you do Stu, its giving 'loathing' from Wicked lol). Klaus drew a lot of artwork of the early Hamburg Beatles that includes this highly unpleasant picture of Paul in 1961 which I think says a lot:

Klaus is also a musician and fancies himself a place on bass. When Stu leaves to pursue art, Klaus asks John if he could take over but John says that he thinks Paul is going to do it.

Klaus has later gone on to say that he thinks he was a better bass player for the Beatles' sound at the start and then Paul developed into being better for the group. It's one of those I cannot believe those words actually left your mouth and you are not deeply embarrased moments. But it's important to keep this desire and viewpoint in mind.

Klaus stays in touch with all of them and close to John and George, George especially. They visit Klaus on holiday in tenerife in early 60s and Klaus later draws the Revolver artwork.

This whole context of how they met and Hamburg is crucial and has to be taken into account when hearing Klaus' statements. Klaus and Paul started off with a lack of connection and with Paul on the outs, the Exsis got an incomplete view of Paul and an inaccurate snapshot of the Beatles dynamic overall. This is why when Klaus says 'Paul was always slightly apart from the others' and that 'divorce was inevitable' from early 60s we should remember that that is what Klaus is expecting to see as that's what he saw in Hamburg.

Klaus wanted to be the bass player (and was holding out hope to join a band with George and John in the 70s), was really close with George and suffers as many did with 'John Lennon aspiring boy bestie syndrome' (JABBS). Paul had what Klaus wanted and from the Hamburg experience, you could see why Klaus thought he might have an in and may have been jealous of this 'shallow' Paul of all people having the connection that he felt he should/could have with John and George. As with most sufferers of JABBS, he took John's side with everything, always refused to say any regrets about his involvement in How do you Sleep and thought Paul was fine with the song because 'he was even closer to John than [he] was. (Again Klaus to put yourself in that level of closeness with John that it's comparable to Paul is ???.) JABBS and its secondary condition PMIETGSH (Paul McCartney isn't even that good shut up) are virulent diseases that incapacitate sufferers objectivity and judgement, so it's fair to say that Klaus is a source you have to take with a pinch of salt on the early 70s period.

It seems that Klaus and Paul did get on a lot better the older they got (probably without the jealousy complication of George and John) and developed a sweet friendship. Here is Klaus' tribute to Paul for his 80th:

Here is the jam session he's talking about:

He now wants Paul to live in his house lmao so things have gotten warmer. But Klaus and Paul's dynamic is a great example of how and why natural bias, little jealousies and spats can consciously or subconsciously influence our internal narrative and why we need to be so careful about not taking one perspective as gospel.

[smolvenger]

The Ceremony (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: You and your dear prince, Loki of Asgard, are finally getting married. But in order for the marriage to be legitimate, your wedding night and consummation must be witnessed...

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: 18+ SMUT Y'ALL ! SMUT! SMUT IN THE LAST THIRD! Voyeurism, loss of virginity, fem receiving oral, p in v sex, dirty talk, loss of innocence kink and some possessiveness kink. But lots of fluff, especially romantic, wedding fluff. Loki is a good protective fiancee/husband. I did wee research on Norse weddings but it's not about the accuracy, it's about the vibes.

A/N: This was written especially for @lokisprettygirl/ @lokisprettygirl22 (if I tag the wrong person, I apologize!) Follower Count Celebration as a submission! Wanted to try something I always wanted to write and get a new piece out there! Enjoy!

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over (with one small bit inspired by the weddings headcanons! :) ) @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“The Wedding Night must be witnessed by the court in order for the marriage to be valid,” Heimdall announced.

There was a silence over the table where all of you sat. Your jaw dropped and the look on the face of your intended prince Loki, became pure white. The other faces at the table all remained composed. Though Thor looked down a little, blushing.

Your dear Prince Loki asked you to marry him in his mother’s garden. You kissed him and said yes as you both cried happy tears and embraced. You were not born to royalty like he. You understood that there were certain parts of etiquette that had to be upheld. Traditions that would be honored. And everything you learned so far made sense and didn’t seem too bad or out of place. Bow to the AllFather as king. Use “please” and “thank you.” Watch your words. Show respect to the Allmother Frigga. All of that was common sense.

But this…this was different.

You had never lain with a man before. You and Loki shared heated kisses and embraces, but they were always interrupted before it could go further. Sif would walk in and clear her throat. Frigga would call to talk to her son. And then hearing on the insistence of a future princess being chaste, you thought it was pure dumb luck. After the engagement, both of you agreed to wait. So, there would be absolutely no reason for anyone to object to the marriage.

But the times you imagined what your first time would be like, you never imagined it being watched by others!

“There are…ways around it, but it is how it is done…and Y/N, your parents assured us you are…untouched, yes?” Heimdall asked, despite the slight embarrassment in his tone.

“Yes…yes I am,” you confirmed.

Loki glanced at you, then he stretched out a hand to hold yours on the table.

“We…we don’t have to do it. No one should force Y/N to do it!” he argued.

“First, we must guarantee a possible heir should Thor never have one.”

Thor flared his nostrils.

“Second and more important, we need certainty of the marriage’s consummation. It could risk annulment if not-then you both will not even be considered married.”

Loki moved his chair to be closer to you and wrapped a protective arm around you. You could feel him tighten up. Like he was going to whip out his daggers and fight Heimdall there and then.

“Could I have a say in this? A choice?” you voiced out.

The idea….of people all watching then turned in your head. It was a little nerve wracking. But something else was stirring inside you. Finally making love to the most desirable man in the nine realms as people watched became suddenly…titillating. You felt your lower innards already begin to anticipate it. It was no longer dread…it was excitement.

Loki gripped your hand and arm. Both of you shared a look and then you stared out at them. Faces all turned to you. Odin was quiet and crossed his arms. Frigga only folded her hands, but her eyes were soft. Her mouth half-open as if to speak, yet she didn’t. Thor’s eyes became giant, blue plates on his face, and he listened with intensity. Now they had to listen to you- their future princess.

“I say…we should do it. We will have the bedding ceremony. It’s tradition and might as well follow it. And that way, no one will question Loki being my husband, as he is in my heart already,” you announced.

Loki relaxed- you felt the muscles from his arm and the hold on his hand soften. He even blinked rapidly and began a slow smile.

“I have my consent for the bedding ceremony,” you announced.

Loki looked at them with a nod.

“If she is fine by it, then so am I.” he agreed.

Done and done. Heimdall nodded with a small smile-it was settled with only a minor conflict. The table then moved on to discuss other things about the wedding. One minute you were discussing the consummation, and next there was discussion of what color the bridesmaids would wear, and which roast meat to serve at the feast! When they got up and left, Loki practically pulled you aside. He touched your shoulders, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Y/N. Let me know. You don’t have to please them-you don’t have to let them force you to do anything you don’t want to. Please tell me- you can always tell me your secrets, darling. Y/N- are fine with the consummation ceremony?”

“Why do you ask?” you pressed.

Loki cupped your cheek with both hands. His voice grew intense.

“I swore to you to defend you. And this includes my own palace- I won’t let any of them humiliate you! I’ll kill them if they do!” he declared.

You leaned into his touch, kissing his hand. You gave him a smile. You reached up to touch his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“Loki…I…I am fine by it. I am…you need not worry. I think it will be nerve wracking, yes. I am not out of my wits to admit it. But it’s also…tantalizing.  I like the idea of people watching us when we do it,” you replied.

You heard him let out a long exhale. Then he wrapped his arms around you to keep you close. You both looked up at each other. You could sense the adoration in his eyes. He was protective-because he cared about you. And that made you even prouder to call him yours.

“My dear lady…and soon my wife…if this is not under any pressure, and your decision…then it is yours and ours,” he said.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek. He flashed a smile that could make Jotun itself melt.

“Then…only a week?” you asked.

“Only a week.” He confirmed.

“But Loki, when I lie with you the first time…Will it hurt?”

He smiles.

“Maybe not…unless you beg me to hurt you…”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Seven days flew by. Before you knew it, the wedding arrived.

It was a beautiful, opulent wedding. Flowers decorated the place in every corner. There was going to be an altar, or a hörgr, placed on the throne room on a table. Even that was decorated. There were green ribbons tied around each column and table. After all, you were still marrying a prince! The guests were all bedecked in their finest clothes. Long silk gowns and velvet draping the floors. To make sure there was no doubt that this was a royal wedding.

      Your bridesmaids did their best to calm you in the other room before it began. One squeezed your hand. The other smoothed out the skirt of your dress. Assuring you it would be alright.

It made your mind wander. You were about to lie with Prince Loki for the first time in front of others. It made your heartbeat faster. But no... that was for later. Now you only had to stand by at an altar and make vows before the AllFather. That was all. Nothing complicated.

“I heard that prince Loki himself is nervous! Pacing about the halls in his cape! All because he wants to be good for you! He’s the same as you are now!” one gossiped.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yes, really! Everyone gets nervous on their wedding day, Y/N!”

You did notice a little crumb on your dress from when all of you had snacks of bread, cheese, and grapes to keep you satiated before the meal. You laughed and wiped it off.

Your own gown was a white one- to represent innocence. Virtue. Though now that you were about to become a princess it sparkled everywhere in the long, full skirt. It was as if you were made of diamonds. But there was a touch of sensuality to it. The sleeves fell off your shoulders and revealed your neckline and collarbones. You had to smile at the big of cleavage it did show. To give Loki especially what he had to look forward to. Tonight, and all his nights.

Then it was announced for the marriage ceremony to begin. Your own parents went over to stand by you to give you away. to stand in the front row. To see you, their dear little girl, on her big day.

Servants held out lit candles for everyone. Thor's own seemed tiny in his big hands. Only Loki and Heimdall, who was performing the ceremony, did not hold any. Loki, bedecked in his armor, a smaller version of his helmet (he was worried if he kissed you, the larger helmet would knock down and whack you on the head before everyone watching), and green cape, turned to Thor.

"Brother, do not fret. I'll do the fretting for you!" Thor assured like a puppy wagging its tail. Thor couldn’t whisper if he tried, but his tone of voice was soft.

"How do I look?" Loki asked, rechecking to make sure his armor was clean for the hundredth time.

"Like a groom!” Thor assured him.

"Good..."

Thor patted a large hand on his shoulder. Then at the presence of so many flowers, the god of thunder sneezed a sneeze that could rattle bones into his arm.

      The guests all took their places, standing around the great throne room. They began to murmur like an audience to a new play. Then a few lutes, woodwinds, and a harp began playing. It was finally time.

Down went wedding party. Walking slowly to savor the occasion. They stood in their places before the altar. The guests all smiled brightly.

But none as much as Loki when you walked out.

  You walked down. You wore a veil over your face and saw it through that filter of white. But thin enough you could distinguish everything. It glittered like snow in the moonlight. You sensed that the guests smiled at you.  Your mother and father escorted you down there. You saw the court shifting their faces. Just to get a glimpse of you walking by.

 But you saw Loki at the altar through it. And feelings overflowed your chest to see him.  Despite the trembling in his hands, when you walked out, he instantly relaxed. Both of you locked eyes. You saw a small ghost of a laugh that made his shoulders drop. The gold among his green and black robes seemed to glow even more.

You noticed Thor in his long, red cape and silver breastplate next to his brother. Odin in his own armor and Frigga with her hair done up and standing bedecked in a gold dress and an elaborate necklace beaming at you. Odin looked a little bored, but what did you care? You were marrying the love of your life! You would deal with your father-in-law’s nonsense later.  

As you approached it, you handed your bouquet of flowers to a bridesmaid. Loki was standing taller when you got closer. His cheeks were red. You felt him warm up as you approached him. Then he took the veil and, with his powerful hands, lifted it from your face.

      All the eyes were on you and your own bread was curdling in your stomach. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt it was all worth it. You had never seen Loki beam so happily in ages. Your father gave you a kiss on the forehead from over the veil.  He placed your hand on Loki's. He then looked at the prince. Loki gave your father a wink and then both of you turned to face Heimdall.

You felt the god’s fingers between yours as he held it. You were entering this union together. IT was all you felt. It was like the world was just a buzz. The ringing of bells heard only in the distance. You turned your head to admire his handsome profile, and he looked back at you. For only a second, it was as if the two of you were alone in the realm. Then with an exhale, you both turned towards the altar.

"Dear people of Asgard, we are here to witness the matrimonial rite of Prince Loki, God of Mischief and Y/N. Now-make your vows to each other,” Heimdall intoned with his own powerful baritone, he raised a hand.

You both turned to each other, holding hands before the altar. Loki looked at you with his beautiful, blue eyes, and though they were wedding vows, they seemed to come naturally as if they were words just appearing in his mouth.

"I, Loki, do swear before the AllFather and AllMother, take you to be my wife, my friend, my lover, and my companion. From this day until only death parts us. Before our family and friends, I pledge you my fidelity, refusing all others as long as we live. My softest words and tenderest embraces. The protection of my crown, my magic, my sword, and my body. In battle and in peace. In sickness and in health. In joy and in sorrow. I shall respect and love you boundlessly, no matter what may happen to me or what you may do. I shall support and cherish you each morning, day and night.  From this hour, as long as we both live."

The words from him sounded so lovely, you felt a small tear in the corner of your eye. But your smile never dropped.

With a steady voice, you said your own vows back at him. There was an exchange of swords between your families and Loki’s-to symbolize the protection you would give each other. Heimdall’s then brought two rings, conjured by magic. You each slipped a ring on the finger of the other. Perfectly fitting gold bands, golden as his helmet, as light, as warmth. Both of you peeked down at the pretty bands and how they matched each other. For both of you knew, two souls so in love they merged and melded as one.

“AllFather and AllMother, protect and bless them, guide them in their new union…” all began to pray.

There were a few final prayers and a hymn. Incense was lit in honor of Freya, the goddess of love, along with an offer of flowers. Then Heimdall turned you both to face the palace. Heimdall was a serious man, but you heard his voice declaring with joy from behind you.

      "The AllFather and Allmother Now, before all the gods, the people of Asgard, and -I now declare you both-Prince and Princess of Asgard. Husband and wife. Now...seal your vows with a kiss before all."

Loki turned his face to you.  You felt his hands go to your waist pulling you closer. He kissed you there in front of everyone. You felt his tongue push forward. and you let a small sound at the feeling of it. Definitely a more sensual kiss than the normal chaste pecks he would give you in his family’s presence. You could taste cinnamon on his tongue and feel the slight brush of his long eyelashes against your face from how close he was. Then he let go. 

Everyone raised their candles and cried "All praise the AllFather and Allmother. The Prince and Princess of Asgard!"

Then they blew out their candles and applauded. You and Loki held hands as music soared. Both of you walked arm in arm. Glancing at each other like excited children and then each other. Flowers petals were even thrown in your direction as you both made you way down there. Down to the feast.

 The meal was brief. At least, it felt brief for you. Talking and attending to so many people who came over to wish you both congratulations. Loki even made a toast, calling himself the luckiest man in the nine realms to be yours. There was more food than you could name. You enjoyed the foods served that you loved. Loki insisted that you have a break from talking to guests to eat your own food at your own wedding. You ate until you were full, but not surplus to where you would get sick. Good night, if you had to have your wedding night before witnesses, you were not going to vomit.

But the time was passing. Loki looked over at you. He noticed a servant take away your plate.

“My love…are you ready now….for the…the other ceremony?” he asked.

Your heart picked as if you were running, though you sat still. Then you nodded. You brought his hands to yours and kissed it.

“Yes, husband, I am,” you assured him.

Loki looked at Heimdall. He rose and all the happy chatter from the meal fell silent.  

“Now…it is time for the bedding ceremony…” Heimdall announced.

You were led into two separate chambers. Your bridesmaids dressed you out of your gown into a white robe. It was made of lace that was so light on your skin, it was a little cold. But it was beautiful, and you touched the pattern of the fabric of your sleeves to feel it. They escorted you out through the halls. You felt your blood course through you, but you did your best to put on a brace face. But there was some stifled and suppressed giggling from all of them- even you out of your own mixed excitement and nervousness.

You were led back out to the throne room. Now there were torches alight, but it was still dark. The night’s darkness had shone and spread her ink through, and one needed a lit candle to get around. There was a crowd of courtiers, all of whom were wedding guests. But most striking of all- a bed was moved to be there in that room.

It was a canopy bed with light, white drapes. enough room for the two of you to sleep-or rather, to not sleep. Thin as a summer breeze and just as delicate.  Right before the altar and there, the two thrones. The bed itself was surrounded by flowers around it, lovely white roses and a few green ones, complimenting the green sheets and green pillows. Such a bed could only be conjured there by magic, created by magic.

Loki was then given to you. He had his own silk green robe on. His raven curls dangled over his shoulders. You saw a peek of his delicious chest from the V of the robe and licked your lips. He walked up to you. He wrapped his arms in an embrace and then whispered into your ear.

“Are you ready, my dove? Are you ready?” he repeated.

“Yes…yes I am,” you answered.

There were the musicians- the harps, woodwinds, and you heard drums too. They began to play from the corner. The court gathered more lit candles-it was dark. But with music, the candles, the flowers, and the pretty bed, it did make it…romantic, oddly. It could be much worse. Much worse would be a rough, awkward tumbling before your parents.

Loki cupped your face. He looked at you- raw without all your finery. Seeing every bit of you. His eyes did have lust as they wandered to the skin that peeked from your lace, but there was more…he was quiet. His thumb traced over your lips.

“What is it?” you asked him,

You’re so…so…beautiful…so wonderful…” he murmured.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then He then turned to all of them. He raised his arms out, a signature gesture with that smile that oozed charm and mischief. Such a man. No wonder it was easy to love him. And easier to marry him. Now you only had to lie with him and now that seemed easiest of all. His own voice made desire soak through you and you felt your legs squirm, a wetness growing between you as he said the words.

“Now, all of you wish to watch? Then watch. Witness just how much I love this woman. I adore her. I want her. And now that she is my wife, see how much love and pleasure I can give her in one moment…” He boasted.

He returned to you and began to kiss you. But deeper. It was a loud, wet kiss with more tongue. You could taste the feast on him, his breath. He groaned and he kept doing it, his hands wandering up your back, feeling how only one layer separated your skin from his. He removed his lips and voiced.

“And now…now your innocence is mine too…”

He pressed against you. You felt your own body against him, naturally. His hands went down to the tie of your robe. You began to take shallow breaths, your chest heaving. Loki’s eyes fluttered to see just some of how it moved with your breasts and his smile grew devilish. He only took one step away.

“All of this tucked away from me…not anymore now…let me take you in, my dear…”

He pulled on the knot once and it was undone. He then put his hands to your shoulders and gently slid the robe off. Dramatically revealing your shoulders, your breasts, your stomach. It pooled down to your feet in a puddle of lace, revealing all of you before the court.

The eyes were watching each inch of your skin. You raise an arm to cover yourself out of habit, feeling naked on the inside as well as the outside, but Loki gently removed your arms, smiling over your breasts, stomach, hips.

“You’re exquisite, Y/N…the softness…your shape…everything. And now they all will see you…and they’ll kneel before you as they do to me, it’s only what you deserve, my little princess. Let them see you…let me see you,” he whispered.

With a sigh he kissed you again, pressing his tongue further. He put his hands behind your head. You felt him get hard beneath the thin layer of his emerald silk robe. You wrapped your arms around him, you felt yourself moaning. You were pooling more to where you wondered if a bit of your desire would creep down your thigh. You felt their eyes on you-not in judgement. Maybe like Loki said- in appreciation. Seeing you as a piece of art to be admired. Seeing you as Loki saw you. A goddess in your own right, your own way.

He then picked you up- wrapping his arms around you and you put your legs around him. You let out a little gasp and he only chuckled lightly at you. You felt your own folds opening right before his body and you shuddered, and he did too- that most delicate, private part of you now felt against him. Made public. But in a display that was more for him than for them.

He then set you down onto the bed. Positioned to where you were lying down.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband now…that I’m married to a god…” you said softly to him.

He spread your legs with his long, beautiful hands. You peeked and discovered his own cock was getting hard under his robe.

“I may be a god, but I can show you what it is to be worshipped-my hands, tongue, and cock are your acolytes now…” he replied.

He began to untie his own robe to give him freedom.

“And they make offerings, like this…”

He dove onto the bed. He lifted your legs and plunged his tongue inside your entrance. You felt him lick up your walls-gently exploring.  The feeling of him tasting, sucking on each small bit of you. You begin to gasp and moan.  The crowd whispered lightly.

“L-Loki….it…it feels so good…where…keep…yes-oh!” you began to moan as he tasted you.

 You felt his nose and his breath there, cold against your wet pussy. He gave a peck to each part as he climbed up. Up to where the most precious bud of all was found. He began to lick your clit, slowly. But you felt a tingle all around you. You let out another moan for not only the throne room but for the whole palace to see.

“Oh! Norns-yes…please!” you voiced.

You tried to reach your hands down to feel hm, his hair, his shoulders. To never lose touch of your husband. He paused. You could feel him smile against your opening-his own altar.

“Yes-I want you- let them. Let all of them know who it is who gives you pleasure. Let them all know who it is who you belong to now. Let them all know, and anyone who tries to spoil my marriage, that no man can fuck you like I can…no man can pleasure you like me…”

You let out another moan in response. You could feel the eyes of the crowd widening. Maybe they too were a little aroused by this display. This was a ceremony- sacred and necessary. But this time it was…different. Your own pleasure was there at the center. You made another sound that would have made the AllMother herself blush. Loki’s voice rumbled through your body.

He removed his mouth. He then moved to stand up on the floor, towering over you.

You felt as if you were staring to fly when he tasted you, but you never left the ground. But you had no wings that were open. You had your legs.

He then finally undid the knot of his robe. You realized how wet you were. You ached for him. You were writhing, sighing out. You still felt your folds dripping both with desire and the teasing of his tongue.

“Loki…please….I ache for you-I want you, I’m so ready for you-fuck me into this bed and make me yours!” you mewled.

He smirked. He let his robe fall free of the knot.

“A beautiful little innocent begging for me….hm, I have both in one. A princess and a concubine. How lucy am I… How would that beautiful voice scream when I thrust inside her…”

You ached for release. You felt a throbbing inside you. How long would this take? Would you have to touch yourself before he was done?

“Here…take me…take your husband…make me-one with you. Continue this ceremony! You begged.

There were prayers given up by the crowd. Soft but present.

“Gods protect them. Gods bless them. Gods give them peace.”

There was no denial that Loki himself was a god from his body. Out came his chest-perfectly chiseled pecs and abdominals. Strong biceps and broad shoulders contrasting and complimenting his deliciously small waist. A trail of dark hair leading down to where his hard cock was against his stomach. It was leaking already-he wanted you as much as you wanted him. Maybe more.

With another devilish smile, he then leaned down and got on the bed.

“Now are you ready, sweet little dove, to take me-your god, your husband- are you ready to be my wife?”

You nodded with a whimper.

He crawled on top of you, taking a look over your body. Beautiful and all for him for the rest of his days. And norns, he was going to take care of it. He kept your legs open, then began to sheath himself inside you.

“Gods protect them. Gods bless them. Gods give them peace,” chanted the crowd.

Finally, finally he first entered inside. There was only a little pain-but you let out a shout.

“Oh! Oh-you’re! You’re so…so big! I’m so full!” you cried wantonly.

You could hear the smile in his voice.

“A large cock and a beautiful wife…what more could I want now? Yes- cry out. Tell them how much you love this cock. How much pleasure it gives you, my dear…”

He began to thrust into you. His hips snapping slowly. You were letting out gasps-it felt so good. Better than you could have imagined. You were getting dizzy. You squeezed your eyes shut except to see him. To enjoy the feeling. Each thrust to your insides, to your womb was natural. How he fits you as perfectly as the rings around your finger. A small hymn was being sung by the crowd as the music played. Gentle as a lullaby but instead was not an offering of your virginity to a god of both mischief and desire. But the volume was   matched by your whore-like moans and the grunts of Loki on top of you.

The volume of the song increased. So did his pace.

He picked it up. He lifted your leg to be on top of his shoulder. You could practically hear your skin colliding each time. He began to slam you into the bed. It seemed the altar nearby and each candle was shaking from the power of his thrusts.

“Oh! Oh-my-oh-gods, husband! You’re-oh!” you started to cry.

“Yes…yes bit by bit…I’ll-nrgh-claim you-norns-yes, here on this bed…. Have them-damn-have them all watch-yes-watch you become a wife-gods-watch me -yes-that good little princess, good little wife, good little whore, too-norns-here-taking me-taking me well-“

He then placed you to lean against the tall headboard of the bed. So you sat up, slid you up.

“Darling, uhm-what is-“you could voice.

He wrapped your arms against your waist and hit you deeper. And a finger went down to your bud, and you let out another cry.

You felt the bed shake-you heard the flowers shake with you, petals dropping. The singing and praying and music continued, already overwhelming you with the pleasure of your husband’s cock. And all of them watching you become awakened to the joys of the bedroom before all of them. For them to know how much you both loved each other. And with a gasping kiss, he began to fuck you harder, deeper.

“The-the-the beds! It’s going to-to-to break!” you fretted between each deep, fast thrust. You held onto his chest and kept him close.

“Let it break! Let it! Gods-yes, my little wife-fuck! Giving me everything-norns, gods…”

You were gasping, writhing beneath his touch, feeling it all as he pounded. He was repeating your name, his own hymn in his straining voice.

“My wife, now mine, finally mine-hela-every way mine-should-should have you on the throne too-yes-have you on my cock there, have them watch that too-nrgh!” he grunted with each movement.

And you felt something spinning inside you. You were not going to last. It was all overwhelming you. Sweet overstimulation. The drums were beating, it seemed hard, and his thrusts were getting harder. The harps played and you couldn’t make out the words of the hymn.

He was going at it. Rutting at you-showing both the grace of a prince and the power of a lover. Something was bubbling. Like the wings but about to take flight. You were starting to shake inside. It was growing, growing, you were reaching it, reaching the top. You clutched onto him as you were shaking, practically bouncing on it, the moving bed.

“Loki…I think…Loki I think-I think-I thinkIthink-I’m going to…I’m going to…”

“Then cum, princess-cum for your husband-for them-or-would you-nrg-rather I stop-stop letting you enjoy this!” he hissed out.

“N-no! Please! Please don’t stop! Please! Please-don’t stop! Don’t stop don’tstopdon’tstopdontstopson’tstop-“ you were begging.

He was pounding into you at a faster rate than you thought. He fingered your clip, circles matching the speed of his cock.  He gave began to repeat your name. Like a growl, and then his voice increasing in volume. You were spinning, thrown out of control, bursting up, and up

“My-My prince! I-“

You felt something in you-then you let out a last voice into a scream.

You felt it burst on you. Your first climax. You felt him give another quick thrust and he came too with a cry. Then he held you, his thrusting slowed. You nestled into him. Your pussy was shaking and quivering harder than you thought it possible.

As the witnesses all watched-the members of the court. Feeling this spectacle. Right here in this bedroom. There was a last verse of the hymn. Then a final repetition of the prayer as you felt his seed spurt inside you.

“Gods protect them. Gods bless them. Gods give them peace.”

Loki then looked up. You brushed his black locks to see his lovely face. He was all flushed, full of bliss. Enjoying the high as you were. You could feel the coolness of his sweat and his own body heaving as he caught his own breath. He pulled out but remained close to you. He whispered into your ears.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m…I’m okay,” you replied.

He pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much, Y/N. I’m glad. For this…for you…”

You pressed back. You closed your eyes and smiled.

He went back to the group. He offered you the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders. Warm and safe.

“Give us some water-a rag! Bring us our robes!” he ordered.

He kissed your forehead and held you close.

“You…You were wonderful, sweet Y/N…that was incredible-you did well…” he said.

The robes were returned and there was a wet rag. He cleaned you both up from between both legs. After putting your robes back on, he looked at them.

“I’d like us both to retire, please. Now. She needs some rest after today-and so do I.”

As you walked out, you both still locked hands-anchoring each other. Finally, you were both alone in his chambers. Once the heavy door was shut and you were surrounded by his favorite dark green walls, you both sighed.

He led you to sit down on the rug and made the fireplace start a pretty flame by just flicking his wrist. He brought a thick blanket wrap around the both of you.

“Here…let’s have our own little celebration-just us…wine?”

“I’d love some wine,” you agreed.

He then used his seidr and conjured two glasses of a dark, garnet colored wine. He gave you a smile.

“Here…let’s have a toast…”

He chinked your glasses.

“To the Princess of Asgard….my wife. And the start of our lives together…”

[am-i-interrupting]

Affection | Vox x Fem!Reader

Summary: Vox and Valentino get into it. Vox looks for a way to get payback and stumbles upon you. He didn’t expect you to actually care.

Warnings: sex work, a bit of a mommy kink

He was used to the petty yelling, the constant spats, even the object throwing. What crossed the line was when he had to replace his screen.

Vox and Valentino got into a lot of arguments, normally started by the latter instead of the former. This one was bad though. Vox didn’t even want to think about it but it was all that was on his mind.

He was angry.

He was angry because it was easier to be angry rather than something else, something more vulnerable. He didn’t want to and couldn’t afford to be vulnerable right now. He had to hold onto this anger so he didn’t go crawling back to Valentino.

Currently, he was at his desk, looking through documents about ads that were just waiting for Vox’s stamp of approval. He stumbled upon yours and he paused.

He recognized you. Why?

He copied your name into a search bar and looked at your Sinstagram profile. Flipping through the pictures, he found one of you at a bar and that’s when he remembered.

Valentino tried to contract you and you’d basically laughed at him. You’d tossed back a shot and then turned to Valentino, asking if he needed you to pay for it since he was clearly so desperate for new recruits as he was only preying on people too stupidly drunk to realize how bad of an idea it was to say yes. Oh, he remembered Valentino seething that night.

He approved your ad but he couldn’t get you out of his head. He opened the closed tag again as he actually read through your ad.

You were advertising music. Which, when say side by side with your Sinstagram made sense as he saw a picture of you with Verosika Mayday. There wasn’t really anything interesting on the advert.

He scrolled up to the top of your Sinstagram in order to look at them in order from most to least relevant. That is when he caught sight of a link in your bio. He clicked it.

He was brought to a website. He wasn’t sure what he expected but he did raise an eyebrow nonetheless. It was an escort sight. A home page that had you and several other people scantily dressed with a description of what every person and the services you offered.

Maybe he was being more vindictive than he thought because he immediately clicked on the tab that sent him to your page and booked a time with you.

It was far out, months away in fact. He honestly had forgotten about it until he got an email the week before asking if he was still available and inviting him to a pre-session consultation. Not willing to back out and have it potentially mess with his image, he made the time.

He logged into a video call several days later and was greeted with you in the middle of putting on your makeup.

“Well, hello, Mr. Vox,” you said with a soft purr. He replied with a formal greeting of your name. “You’re a busy guy and I’m a busy gal so I’ll keep this quick. This is just a little meeting for boundaries. I know it bothers some people to make them in person so I’ve found this to be an easier way.

“I’ll go first. No hickies, no bruises, no scratches, no cuts, no burns, just no marks. It might be pretty and fun in the moment but it costs me later. Not everyone enjoys having sex with someone who’s clearly had it with someone else not long before. It may be part of my work but people do like an illusion.

“I don’t do bondage where I’m the one tied up. It’s nothing personal, just a safety issue. On the topic of safety, if you bring in anything that could be used as a weapon. I’m done and you’re leaving. All I need from you is that pretty little body of yours and payment. I’ll provide the rest.

“On the topic of payment, I know you’ve already made your upfront payments for this little consultation. The rest can be brought when you come in cash. Any questions so far?”

He surprised himself by saying, “Not so far, no.”

You we’re far more thorough than he thought. He’d bought time before but it was never this professionally done, even by Valentino’s standards. Granted, with Valentino’s sex workers, there was really only one rule, payment upfront. He didn’t give a fuck about anything else.

You though? You had clearly given this a lot of thought on all parts.

“Good, I’m glad,” you said. “Those are my hard rules. Everything else is a little more flexible. So, tell me, what is it you want from tonight?”

“To have a good time.”

“Of course, we all want to have a good time, Vox, but I’m talking specifics. Don’t be naive,” you said. “I have full confidence you know better. Maybe it’d be easier if I told you what I’m best at.”

The lid of your lipstick clicked closed. You looked at the camera, looking at him directly on his screen by proxy, for the first time.

“I can do just about anything your cold, dead heart desires but I enjoy specific things more than others. I’m a bit of a dominatrix, I’d you will. I enjoy the power and control of giving people what they need instead of what they want. How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds to me like a very overlord thing to do,” he replied.

“Not there yet,” you said. “So, is that the role you prefer to play?”

“It’s one I play often.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that but do you prefer it?”

Vox didn’t know why he didn’t just say yes. He should have. It went with his image to say yes and that’s why he was still agreeing to do this even though he and Valentino weren’t on the worst of terms right now.

He hadn’t crawled back to Valentino yet. It’d been one of their longer spells away from one another. Five months without even falling back into bed once.

Perhaps that’s why he said what he said. He was pent up. He hadn’t had time to unwind and the person he normally would go to for that he was still upset with. That’s the reason he’d go with anyway.

“It’s the role I play most often,” he said.

“But is it the role you like?” you asked. When he didn’t answer you smiled, a more genuine one than any flirty or sarcastic one you’d shot his way before. “Stubborn, I’ll keep that noted.”

“I am not—“

“You’re proving my point. Now,” you stood up and rummaged through a drawer he couldn’t see, “pick a set for me.”

For the next several hours, Vox felt like he couldn’t focus. He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been nervous over a one night stand.

He left early, leaving his assistant with double the workload but he didn’t care. He just needed to be out of the building.

He took Vark out on a walk to pass time but it still went by so slowly. It took what felt like days for it to finally be time to leave.

He’d call it considerate that he left without his usual suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie but in reality, he felt so hot, constricted with them on.

He traveled through the cameras and arrived at the address he’d been given, not a single person having seen him.

He knocked on the door and that sense of security was promptly shattered when it opened and he heard someone say, “Holy shit!” in response to seeing him.

He glared at the offending person as he stepped in. He recognized them from being pictured on your website. They quickly spun around and continued doing whatever it was they were in the process of.

He was led to a room which when opened revealed you inside. You were wearing a shear robe that gave him a peak at what was hiding underneath.

“I was promised secrecy,” he said. “Not to be gawked at by the employees.”

“So you don’t want to be gawked at me?” you asked. You smiled at your own joke. “Everyone here is under contracted lock and key to not say a single word about what goes on inside these walls. You’re image will be fine.”

“Contracted?”

“You said I had the makings of an overlord,” you replied. “Why are you suddenly surprised that I have contracts? Don’t worry, I assure you they’re much more ethically sourced than your co-worker’s.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of,” you said as you took several steps towards him, “why are you here? I’d imagine you could have any of Valentino’s contracted cash free. Why waste it on me? I’m not exactly cheap.”

You held out your hand and he reached into a pocket to retrieve the other part of your payment. You swiftly began counting it.

“You fuck one of Valentino’s pets, you’ve fucked them all,” he said. “They’re all too scared to be any fun after a while.”

“As much as I know that’s a true statement—“ you put the cash in a drawer of the bedside table— “I don’t believe it.”

He felt his eye twitch. “And what exactly would you—“

“Why don’t you take off your shirt and lay on the bed?” You walked towards him and ran your hands up his torso. “Or I could take it off for you.”

You began unbuttoning his shirt and for some reason, it made him drop all his irritation. When you finished, you bent down and licked all the way up his torso. You kissed and nipped at his collar bone.

His hands went to your sides but you spatted them away. The shirt fell to the ground.

You looked up at him, like you were daring him to kiss you. However, when he went to do just that, you stepped away.

“On the bed face down, mister,” you told him.

He huffed. Despite his mind telling him to grab you and pull you in for a kiss, take you and remind you of who exactly you were messing with, his body followed your instructions.

The mattress dipped as you straddled him. Something popped open (he tensed), a bottle clinked as it was set on the table, and then the sound of you rubbing your hands together went through the air.

Your hands, warm against his skin and slick with oil, began to rub up and down his back.

“Why are you here, Vox?” you asked. “I’m not stupid. I keep up with the news. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that the day you made an appointment was the same day you updated your status to single again? It’s still single now so what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he said.

“Uh-huh, and the fact that you visibly tensed as soon as I mentioned Valentino is just a coincidence,” you said. “Everything you say in these walls stays within them.”

“You’re the one who made the contracts,” he said. “You’re not under them.”

“True, but—“

You began to apply pressure with your thumb, grinding your thumb and hand in circles along his back.

“Oh, fuck.”

“—I also made them,” you said, basically repeating his words. “It means I place value in confidentiality.”

“Or covering you’re own— oh, fuck, right there— your own ass.”

“I could be.”

You leaned down and he felt toy trap his entire torso beneath you. He liked the feeling. He liked the feeling of you over him.

You got close to his face, “But I think we both know I’m not.” You moved back and he mourned the feeling as soon as it was gone. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re just very obviously tense and not just physically.”

You punctuated your sentence by rolling the palm of your hand at the base of his neck before squeezing it lightly. He couldn’t hold back a moan at the feeling of some tension leaving his body.

You continued on like that in silence for a while. You were working out the knots in his muscles and he was basically putty beneath your hands.

He’d never been treated like this before. He had couldn’t remember the last time he felt loose. There was always some kind of feeling of unease he constantly carried.

He didn’t even know he needed this because he’d never known that he could have it.

You leaned to once again lay over him but this time he could feel the entire weight of your body instead of just your warmth. You wrapped your arms underneath his shoulders and placed a kiss to his neck.

“Are you alright to continue?” you asked him as you nuzzled against his shoulder blade.

“I—“ He tried to search for some witty or snarky remark to make but all he could come up with was, “Yes.”

You cooed at him and slipped your hands out from underneath him to rub his back as you got off him. “Using your words, what a good boy,” you said and he hated, hated how that made him feel so warm inside. “Can you turn around for me? Yes, good.”

He closed his eyes and refused to look at you. You laughed but it didn’t feel mean. That didn’t make him feel any less embarrassed, however.

You did a wider, full handed version of the back massage you’d given him to his front as you began to roll your hips against his. He couldn’t hold back a whine.

“Oh, so pretty,” you said. “Such pretty noises from such a pretty boy.”

“Fuck,” it came out weak and pathetic.

Well, it was fitting then because that’s how he felt, weak and pathetic. Such simply praise shouldn’t be so effective.

“How does that feel?” you asked. “Come on, be a good boy. Tell me. Tell me how to make you feel good, baby.”

You were kissing on his neck and shoulders now.

“Good,” he choked out.

You hummed against his skin.

He could feel his fingers flex. His arms moved. He stopped them. He wanted to touch. He should be able to touch. He should be able to do what he wanted. He was the fucking Vox, overlord and creator of the biggest tech company in Hell. He shouldn’t need permission to do something.

You grabbed his hands and brought them up to the knot of your robe.

“You can touch me, baby,” you told him.

A whine forced its way out of his throat no matter how much he tried to keep it at bay.

He opened his eyes and you were so beautiful, grinding against him like you were made to. He could feel his cock straining against his pants. He wanted them off.

He settled for untying your robe. It fell to reveal the deep blue set he’d chosen for you earlier that day. It was sheer enough to show off your nipples through the cross crossed pattern of the bra. There was a silver chain that draped between the cups and further framed your breasts. Some traps went around your torso as part of the garter belt which held up your similarly colored stockings. You looked gorgeous.

You laughed and guided his hands up to your waist. Then up to your tits.

“I love the way you keeping whining for me,” you said. “You’re like a little pup.” Your eyes honed on his neck and your hand followed your gaze. You pressed on his neck, just enough to add some pressure. “That neck of yours looks like it was made to be collared and leashed.”

“Oh fuck.”

You leaned closer to his face. “Would you like that, baby?”

His fingers twitched around your breasts. He rubbed his thumbs over your clothes nipples as a silent apology. “Please.”

“Oh, such good manners.” You applied more pressure to his neck, not enough to cut off his air supply. He arched into your touch. “But not tonight. Some other time, I promise. I’ve got a feeling I’ll be seeing you plenty, baby.”

You went to nip at his neck. His hands wrapped around to your back to hold you in place. Your own traveled down his torso and to his belt.

You undid it. You pulled down his pants but not his underwear. You slipped from his grasp.

You put your hands on either side of his bulge and ran your fingers over it. His legs spread open further as he tried to push up but you quickly put an end to that little action.

Your hands on his hips, you hovered your head over him. You licked a stripe onto the fabric. You began to suck him off with the barrier of his boxers.

He knew he was whining. His eyes wanted to screw shut but he kept them open, too transfixed by the visage before him.

Your own eyes were closed. Your hands, perfectly constraining his boxers, were wrapped around his hips. The tips of your perfectly manicured hands were digging into his skin. Your tongue lulled out and lavished him.

He could cum from just this alone.

However, as soon as the thought came to him, you pulled away.

“No, no, no, please, please, let me come,” he said, words flowing from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Aw,” you said with a chuckle, “begging so soon? How sweet. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get to come soon. I’ve just got to see that little dick of yours first.”

The small bit of degradation mixed with all the praise made him twitch.

He’d never gotten any negative comments on his dick before. Rather the opposite, Valentino had tried several times before to talk him into at least faceless camera work but he didn’t want to think of the moth right now.

You pulled his underwear down to reveal his cock. It was length, a deep blue like the rest of him except were it was flushed vibrantly at the tip. He was already leaking pre-come. Milky white against his flesh.

You leaned over to lick it up. His eyes rolled back at the simple action.

Your smirked before you took him all your mouth at once. You slowly pulled up and let your teeth pull at the hood of his tip.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

He thrusted up into what was now just air as he twitched, his whole body convulsing but he didn’t come. He was on the verge though.

You shushed him as you stroked his inner thigh with your nails.

“Be a good boy for me and hand me the lube,” you said before you began sucking on the skin above his pelvic bone.

His hand went to your hair as he closed his eyes and moaned. It took him a moment to open them again but you didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t feel rushed.

When was the last time he hadn’t felt rushed while having sex? He couldn’t even remember. It was always about getting back to work as soon as possible or Valentino’s quick hits. It was never really about him. It was about getting rid of his boner or Valentino’s as soon as possible.

He liked this. He liked this feeling of. . . being cared for?

God, he was so fucking pathetic. He could feel tears filling his eyes as he reached for the lube on the bedside table.

“Are you alright, baby?” you asked. “Do you need to stop.”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Okay, we don’t have to stop. We can keep on going,” you said as you poured some lube into your hands. “You just keep on being a good boy for me, alright? You can cry if you need to, baby. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

That permission made it worse. He felt his face flush as tears began to stream down his face. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. He shouldn’t be crying. He’d rarely ever cried. Much less during sex, especially sex that he was enjoying.

“Can you bend your— oh, such a good boy,” you said.

You hooked his bent knees over your legs and pulled him into your lap.

You wrapped your hands, covered in warm lube (when was the last time someone had took the time to warm up lube before touching him?), around his cock and began slowly twisting your hands up and down. He couldn’t stop the weak thrusts.

“I’m sorry,” he said, repeating the phrase like a prayer.

“Shhhh, baby, it’s okay,” you told him, petting his thigh. “You take what you need. You’ve been so good for me. So good. You deserve it.”

“Fuck.”

He threw his head back against the pillow and then looked down at you. He immediately met your eyes, so soft and understanding. It made his stomach queazy.

He watched as his dick slowly was covered then revealed by your hand. It curved around him so perfectly, glistening with a mixture of lube and the pre-come he was leaking. You twisted your hand in just the right way.

You covered his cock and then revealed the head. You thumb lingered and smeared the pre-come at his tip. The point of your nail ever so gently grazed his hole and that’s what did it.

The lights flickered in the room as he spasmed and came. His screen went blank as he blacked out.

A few seconds later, he came to with you by his side with a glass. You tilted his head up and cupped your hand under his lips as you forced him to drink, any water that spilled was dropped in your hand.

You grabbed a cloth and wipes at his screen.

“Are you okay, baby? Was that good?” you asked and he could only mutely nod. “Good.”

You went to pull him into an embrace but stopped and looked down at your body. “Do you wanna clean me up or do you want me to do it?”

He followed your gaze and saw his come covering your torso, a bit of it even clinging to your bra. He leaned to lick it off you. You reclined onto the thrown of pillows and let him, stroking his shoulders and arms as he did.

He licked up to your bra and then was met with the rough contrast of the lace-like fabric compared to your smooth skin. He reached around and undid the bra. You let it fall and he licked where the come had been. Then he began sucking on your breasts.

“Oh, fuck,” this time it was you.

Spurred on, he reached down between your thighs and began stroking. You were wet, so fucking wet. His fingers slid through your folds with no hint of resistance.

He rolled your clit between two knuckles.

“Oh, so good for mommy,” you said as you continued petting him. “So good.”

He whined at both the praise and the title you had given yourself.

He began stroking you with a different purpose now. He needed you to come. He looked up at you, still sucking on your tit. He needed to see it.

Your breath quickened. Your pets turned into a tight hold. It was your turn to whine as your head rolled back and your mouth lulled open.

“So good! So good for me, baby, just like that,” you said right before you became incoherent. You groaned and moved up into his touch.

He went back to the tower feeling better than he could ever remember. The set you’d worn tucked into his pant pocket. You insisted, saying you had plenty of other sets. Who was he to refuse?

“Where the fuck have you been?” Velvette asked.

“Out,” he said as he walked passed her, in no mood for her screeching.

“For over two hours with your location turned off? You didn’t even answer your fucking phone,” Valentino said, voice raising to nearly as yell towards the end.

“Yes,” Vox said as he continued walking.

He heard Valentino laugh as he must have seen the lingerie set in his back pocket. “Were you really so busy fucking a hole that you couldn’t answer me? I hope they were good.”

“Better than you ever were,” Vox said before he closed his bedroom door, unwilling to let his lax mood be ruined.

A few months later, Vox was still going to see you. Absolutely hooked and you both knew it but so were you. You didn’t even made him pay but he still slipped money into your pocket or your bra so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he was getting attached.

That was all thrown out the window when you released a new song. He wasn’t even halfway through watching the music video before he disappeared and found you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss and you knew exactly why.

The imagery in the music video was obvious. Pink smoke trying to creep into your studio only to be blocked, a deep blue body, TV screens everywhere. Then there were the lyrics:

I can give my babe affection without any type of infliction

You were just an intermission but I’m the center of attention

I’ve got him collared and leashed right where he needs to be

He’s down on his knees begging me with please

Better than any of his fantasies

Yeah, I’ve got his attention without infliction

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

airpods

read part two (posted 4/28/24) here!!! wc: 2k reader: femme!afab (matt calls reader a "bad girl", reader is wearing a denim skirt) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also a really bonkers scenario; funny & angst -- stepcest -- inserting foreign objects -- slighttttt dub-conn-ish summary: (y/n) will only give rivalnewstepbrother!matthew his airpods back if he promises to play a little game with them

ੈ✩‧₊˚ this is a doozy lmao. pretty iconic tho if i do say so myself. i take literally no responsibility for it even tho i am 100% responsible for it. basically just wrote itself while i was in a fever dream-like state so pls enjoy. i think it needs a sequel personally but lemme know what you think!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, stepcest, insertion of foreign object into genitals (reader), kind of dub-conny, lots of taunting teasing and degradation from both characters, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, hints of dom!matt and dom!reader and also sub!matt and sub!reader we really cover the bases and lay some groundwork lmao, lots of swearing and i used the word vagina once it was for something funny not for smut but people can still be triggered by that word so! you are warned.

~

“matty, what the actual f*ck are you doing?” you ask as the sight of your dumbass step brother admiring his shirtless reflection in the mirror assaults your eyes.

ever since you met matthew a year and a half ago, every holiday had been ruined by your family constantly comparing you to him. why couldn’t you be more like matt? he’s so passionate and hardworking towards his craft and you’re a waitress at a bar. and not a classy one.

though you don’t see him all that much, you have to share the house with him when he comes home to visit. this particular visit, you and matthew have the house to yourselves for the night— your parents having left this morning for a little new year’s getaway.

matthew’s flexing his (admittedly defined) triceps and dancing around a bit— headphones covering his ears. but when he sees your reflection staring back at him in his bedroom mirror, he jumps in horror.

“WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME!?” he shouts, tearing off his headphones and sprinting across the room to slam the door in your face. “stalker.”

“freak,” you reply childishly, stepping back out of the doorframe to avoid a broken nose. once the door is shut, you knock sweetly.

tap, tap. tap, tap.

matthew opens it, cheeks as red (and canadian) as a pair of macintosh apples. “what do you want?”

“well, i was going to give you back your airpods that i stole yesterday so you didn’t have to wear those clunky headphones anymore, but,” you shake the airpods case in front of you teasingly before placing it back in the pocket of your denim skirt, “i don’t really wanna give them to you anymore after how rude you just were.”

“you—… you stole my airpods!?” matthew exclaims. “i’ve been looking everywhere for them!” 

you shrug. “i guess not everywhere.”

“ugh, you can be such a b—,” matthew starts to curse, but he stops; a little conflicted pout forming on his plush lips. “a b—…”

“you can’t even f*cking say it, can you?” you taunt, pushing matthew’s door open a little further and taking a step inside. “too much of a marshmallow to even swear at me. afraid of hurting my feelings or something, matty?”

“as i’ve said many times before, just matt is fine,” he spits, brows furrowing in frustration. “and i’m not a marshmallow. and, frankly, i don’t give a… shit… about your feelings!”

“cute,” you mock, inching closer to him. your eyes wander down to his torso, a six-pack of well-fed abs staring back at you. “what is it with all the muscles anyway? you think they’ll distract girls from seeing how much of a dumpling you really are?”

“i’m not a dumpling,” matthew huffs through gritted teeth. “and it’s none of your business.”

you consider this for a moment and then nod. “you’re right. it’s none of my business.”

“really? that was easier than—”

“but if it was my business,” you continue, stealing another glance at his chest. your eyes trail down further— waistband of his calvin klein boxers peaking out from his jeans. you hate to admit it, but he’s kind of hot. maybe that wasn’t an entirely appropriate thought to be having about your lameass new step brother, but it was unfortunately the truth. “i’d tell you it isn’t working. not bad to look at though.”

you turn on your heel, starting to walk back out the door when matthew calls, “hey, what about my airpods!?”

“what airpods?” you reply innocently before a smirk darkens your features. you pull the case out of the pocket of your skirt again and wave it in front of him enticingly. “oh, these?”

matthew tries to grab them out of your hand, but you’re too quick— the earbuds back safely in your pocket before he can steal them. his jaw sets, eyes ripe with anger as he pushes the door shut behind you. he inches forward, effectively trapping you between him and the door. “give them the fuck back, you insufferable bitch.”

a wave of desire rushes over you. there’s just something about driving a nice boy over the edge that really does it for you.

and matthew was the nicest of nice boys— and because of that, a giant pain in your ass. but hearing him talk like that as he corners you in; hovering only a couple inches from your face…

“oh—… i—… uh… sorry,” he stutters as he realizes how close he is to you, backing up and stuffing his hands in his pockets. matthew blushes again as he looks away from you nervously. 

he’s resumed his dumpling form, but the glimpse of potential lurking underneath was enough to make you want to see more. 

“fine, you can have your airpods back,” you relent with a sigh. “if…”

“if?” he asks, brow raised.

“if you can find where i hide them,” you finish with a proud smile.

“i’m not gonna play that game,” matthew replies with a frown. “besides, this house is huge! you’re gonna make me tear the whole thing up to find something that small? no way.”

“that’s too bad,” you say, shaking your head. “i guess they’re mine now.”

matthew groans. “at least make the playing field more reasonable.”

you tilt your head to the side, a devious plan entering your mind. “i think i can work with that.”

matthew sighs. “i can’t believe i’m entertaining this... but where are you thinking?”

“me,” you answer. “i’m thinking you can search me.”

“like, you’re gonna hide it on your person,” matthew clarifies, ears burning red. “like, in one of your pockets?”

“yeah, exactly,” you hum happily. “my pocket.”

matthew swallows nervously, purposefully avoiding your gaze. “that sounds too easy. there has to be a catch.”

“no catch. it’ll be in my pocket,” you confirm, extending your hand to him. “you just have to find the right one.”

matthew blinks at you, then at your hand. after a moment, he takes it in his own and shakes it. “fine. deal.”

“i’ll be back in a minute then,” you say, throwing open the door and running off to hide the airpods in one of your pockets. 

—

“okay, so it’s not in your hoodie pockets,” matthew deduces after reaching a tentative hand in each one and coming up empty. “that means it’s in one of these pockets?”

you smile at him encouragingly as he blinks nervously at you, gesturing to your denim skirt. 

“why are you making me do this?” matthew laments dramatically. “aren’t you, like… uncomfortable with me touching you and stuff?”

“not at all,” you reply with a smirk. “i do get a lot of enjoyment out of making you uncomfortable though.”

“so i gathered,” he says, starting to reach for one of your back pockets. “is it okay if i—.”

“just do it already,” you interject, rolling your eyes.

“okay, okay,” matthew says, reaching his hand down the pocket. “sue me for trying to be a gentleman.”

he pulls out his hand. it’s empty. 

matthew reaches down your other back pocket, again finding nothing.

“should probably check the front,” you offer contentedly. 

“thanks for the hint,” matthew huffs, walking back around to face you. cautiously, he sticks his fingers down your left, front pocket— moving them side to side before removing them. “are you f*cking with me? you didn’t even hide them, did you!?”

his rough tone sends another wave of excitement through you, but you force a little pout. “i can’t believe you think i wouldn’t play by the rules, matty.”

he sticks his fingers unceremoniously in the last pocket, coming up empty yet again. “then where the f*ck are they!?”

you tilt your head cutely, basically euphoric over how much you’re riling him up. “in my pocket.”

“i just looked through all your pockets! they’re not—…” matthew stops yelling, seemingly lost in thought before his eyes widen in total disbelief. “wait… you—… you don’t mean…”

“ding, ding, ding,” you reply with a malicious smirk. “you know, you’re smarter than you look.”

“you—… you put my airpods up your VAGINA!?” matthew yells: confused, horrified and impressed all at the same time.

you shrug. “i’ve had bigger.”

matthew is silent as you walk over to his bed and sit down, spreading your legs just a bit.

“well, the deal’s still on,” you offer, placing your hands behind you and leaning back onto them casually. “if you can find them, they’re yours.”

“you—… you want me to…” matthew stammers, eyes locked on your denim skirt. “to...”

“you don’t have to,” you assert, pulling up your skirt to reveal your bare core to him. his lips part, eyeing your center like it’s the forbidden fruit. and it kind of is. “if you don’t want to.”

“this is ridiculous,” matthew says breathily in a way that tells you that, though this may very well be a ridiculous thing to be happening right now, he’s a bit enticed by it all. he walks toward you, pushing you back a bit further onto the bed with one hand to expose your heat more. “this is absolutely f*cking…”

he kneels down on the hardwood floor between your legs, one hand finding each of your thighs and prying them further apart. he grabs your hips, pulling your naked core closer to his face. you hope he doesn’t notice you clench around his airpods at the man-handling.

matthew swallows hard as he examines every inch of you. scandalized eyes and bottom lip drawn between his teeth, you can basically hear his conflicting, depraved thoughts.

“i really hate you, you know that?” he asks rhetorically, licking his lips as your walls pulse again. he stuffs a finger up you suddenly, pushing it in further and further until he’s tapping on the case of his airpods. “if you’ve been looking for a reason that your whole family likes me better than you, i think both of our searches can end with this.”

the tiniest whimper escapes you at the degradation. it’s exactly what you’d been waiting for. 

matthew looks up at you, knuckle-deep in your pussy. his lips part in shock at the sound. “did you--... did you just...”

“are you going to take it out, or what?” you reply, maintaining your rude, slightly bored disposition.

he looks back at your center, moving his finger to try to hook around the case and wiggle it out of you. it doesn’t budge. he inserts another finger into you, stretching your walls out in hopes that the case might come out with more space.

it stays put.

“it’s not coming out,” matthew says, panic in his eyes. “what did you do, gorilla glue it to your cervix?”

“i didn’t even know you knew that word,” you snort, averting his gaze. “i guess you’ll have to find a way to loosen it then.”

matthew’s eyes bulge. “and how the hell am i supposed to do that!?”

“hm, i dunno,” you muse, locking eyes with him again. “don’t they always say to put butter on your arm to make it slippery if it’s stuck in something?”

“you want me to put butter in your...” matthew trails off as he thinks more about your suggestion. “slippery?”

“yeah,” you reply with a nod, desperately trying to maintain your dominance. “you know, like... wet.”

“wet...” he repeats again, eyes meeting your cunt again. “you want me to make you... oh.”

“just a thought,” you shrug off.

matthew shakes his head quickly. “but, we can’t--... i can’t--”

“why can’t you?” you ask, tapping his bare chest with your toes. “oh, i remember now! it’s because you’re a f*cking marshmall--”

matthew’s hands grip your thighs roughly as he pulls your pussy even closer to his face. he licks a long, teasing stripe up through your folds-- ending and circling at your clit. 

this time you don’t hide your moan.

“what was that?” matthew taunts, one eyebrow arching in amusement. “feel good?” 

it does feel good-- better than you could’ve imagined matthew’s tongue would feel against you. you nod, moving your hips to try to push your core even closer to him. he slaps your right thigh hard, warning you wordlessly not to make a fuss. it just makes you need to fuss more, but he reattaches his tongue to your cunt anyway.

he laps at your clit with such dedication that you’re crying out within a couple of minutes-- begging him for more.

“pl--please,” you whine, hand running through his hair and pulling it from the base. “wanna cum on your tongue.”

“f*cking hell,” he moans into your core, the vibration sending more waves of pleasure through you. he closes his eyes as he starts to rhythmically suck on your bundle of nerves, only coming up for air to say, “how can you be so desperate with a pussy this perfect?”

“matty, i--”

“didn’t i tell you not to f*cking call me that,” he growls, inserting a finger into your now dripping cunt. “so this is what you wanted, huh? stole my airpods just so you could cum all over my fingers? you’re such a bad girl, (y/n).”

you’re right on the edge, just a few seconds more and you’ll be moaning matthew’s name like a prayer.

but then you feel it.

matthew’s finger latches around the now lubricated airpod case-- pulling it free from your warmest pocket as he detaches his lips from around your clit. you stare at him helplessly, the denial of your orgasm leaving you so frustrated you’re rendered speechless.

how could you have let him get the upper hand on you?

“but i guess you forgot,” he says with a smirk, standing up and walking toward the door. “bad girls don’t get to cum.”

you blink silently at him once. twice. matthew holds open the door, pointing into the hallway.

“now get out of my room.”

[al-the-remix]

BuckTommy Whump Week Day 4: Prompts: Getting shot // Chronic pain

Another fic for @bucktommywhumpweek! I'm hoping to finish a few more of these before the week is actually over, lol. Rated: E ... I don't know if this really qualifies as whump (like my last whump week fic 💀) but I just can't help making them all sappy atm.

What people didn’t know about bullets was that they rarely went through-and-through in a nice neat manner; not through walls, or car doors, or flesh. They bounced around inside you like a rubber ball, inflicting the most damage possible. 

Buck had seen the aftermath more times than would have liked to. 

The memory of being called to his first GSW was a visceral one, it had been a domestic dispute and once they’d loaded the victim into the bus, Hen had rubbed his back as he’d thrown up into some nearby shrubbery. Buck could still feel the acid burn in the back of his throat when he remembered it. 

He’d seen cadaver photos in his text books, but those never compared to the real thing. The sheer volume of blood that poured out of people was enough to make him nauseous just thinking about it. The cartoonish version of a bullet hole that he’d carried around in his head for most of his life just hadn’t held up. 

Maybe it had been shortsighted of him, but Buck had never taken the time to consider what might come later; not until Tommy had taken Buck’s hand in his own and laid it over the meat of his shoulder and let Buck feel the little knobs of bullet fragments lodged there, like ball bearings trapped beneath his skin. 

“Do they bother you?” Buck asked, in wonder. 

“Not often,” Tommy replied, his hand still blanketing Buck’s as he let him dig his fingers into his shoulder muscle like he would be more than happy to just leave it there forever. “Most of the time I forget they're even there.”

Buck found that hard to believe. He couldn’t imagine having a foreign object stuck in his body and not obsessing over it every moment of every day. 

Tommy was giving him an amused, knowing look. 

“What?” 

“You’re going to be thinking about those for a while aren’t you?”

Buck huffed, rolling his eyes. It was a little unsettling maybe, sometimes, being understood so through and quickly by another person. He liked it; it made him feel all shivery and warm inside, but more importantly it made him feel daring. Bold. 

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

Tommy took Buck’s hand in his own: his palm big, warm and dry, and slid it down to rest on the muscular curve of his outer thigh. “There’s some more over here too,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows as Buck gave all the nice warm flesh there a squeeze.

There wasn’t a lot of talking after that, but Tommy had been right, Buck had thought about it for a while, his mind stuck on invisible scars and mementoes carried around inside you that no one else could see. 

///

Buck wasn’t sure if it was the thunder or the soft orange glow spilling into the mezzanine that woke him. Quiet noises came from the kitchen below, the muted purr of the kettle and the shuffle of Tommy’s socked feet against the tile. Tommy had still been in Buck’s bed when he’d fallen asleep hours ago, tucked up against Tommy’s side as Tommy read by the lamp light.

Buck pulled on his sweatpants and made his way down to the main floor, feeling oddly awake for 4 am. He rarely had a bad night’s sleep when Tommy was with him, taking up space in Buck’s bed and stealing his covers. 

Tommy sent him a guilty look when he noticed Buck, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, not pulling honey from Buck’s kitchen cabinet. He was wearing one of Buck’s old hoodies and some sleep shorts. The circles under his eyes were dark and deep. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he whispered like Buck might be standing there in front of him, still asleep.

“I don’t mind,” Buck said and meant it. He wasn't the one with the shift in far too few hours.

Buck leaned back against the edge of the counter crossing his arms as he did, and settled in. He knew whatever was bothering Tommy would work its way out on its own, like a splinter buried beneath skin. He watched quietly as Tommy stirred honey into his tea. Buck was no stranger to sleepless nights and aching bones. Tommy had sat with him through some of the more recent bad nights, endlessly patient. 

Buck watched him closely, quietly analyzing the tilt of his body and the clench of his jaw as Tommy leaned against the counter opposite him. The cool light from the stove hugged the contours of his face, digging out dark wedges beneath those cheekbones that could cut glass. 

“Well, aren't you gonna ask?”

Buck shrugged. “I figured I'd just wait you out.”

Tommy sighed, setting his mug to the side. He was smart enough to know when he was on the losing side of a battle. “It's the scar tissue around the shrapnel I've still got in me. Every so often it begins to pull in uncomfortable ways and makes it impossible to get settled.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Tommy tilted his head like he was really considering Buck and his words. “Honestly I don't know, I normally just take an Ibuprofen and put on a movie or something and try to just ignore it.”

“Well, I think we can do better than that,” Buck said, and Tomy raised a brow, curiosity peaked.

With hands planted firmly on Tommy’s shoulders, Buck guided him back upstairs to bed and got him splayed out on his belly across the center of the mattress on a towel, sweater-less, with his arms tucked comfortably under his head. 

“Finally, just where I want you,” Buck teased as he straddled Tommy’s waist, reaching for the massage oil. He could feel Tommy’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, muffled by the pillow.

Buck admired the span of Tommy’s back as he warmed the oil up between his hands, deciding where to begin. The bullet and shrapnel scars were faint now, Buck knew their locations by memory and feel alone. He started by smoothing his hands up the center of Tommy’s back, following the column of his spine and the thick muscles flanking it, getting Tommy warmed up and used to his touch before applying more pressure. 

Buck always preferred to talk while he worked, and with Tommy the smooth flow of words came easy. If he let himself, he could probably let his mouth run for hours, and Tommy would listen. 

“You know, I wanted to be a masseuse for a while.”

Tommy hummed, his eyes had drifted shut when Buck began to work on the tight knot of tissue just below his shoulder blade, he peeled one open now, offering Buck an amused look over his shoulder. “And which hunky guy did you follow that career into?”

“Ha ha,” Buck said, poking his fingers playfully into Tommy's side, just to watch him squirm. “Actually, it was after working at the ranch, there was this ex bronco rider, who had compressed his spine one too many times, mucking out stalls with me. He told me all about how his girlfriend had taken massage therapy classes to help him with his back because his insurance wouldn’t cover the treatment.” 

“Ah, so it was a hunky girl that time.”

Buck chuckled. He liked how easy it was to talk with Tommy about stuff like this; he wasn’t ashamed of  himself or his past, but he was wary of how people might perceive him because of it. He’d wanted so badly for Tommy to think of him as a serious person, to know that Buck was all in. That dating him didn’t imply some sort of unspoken risk–and with Tommy it never had. 

“You know me–I always liked the idea of helping people, I just didn't know how, yet.” 

“Maybe I’m being selfish, but I think you ended up right where you were supposed to be,” Tommy said, and groaned in pleasure when Buck really started working at the scar tissue webbed deep within his back muscle.

“How’s that feel?” Buck asked, anticipating Tommy's approval.

“Fucking awesome.”

Buck grinned. He knew he was good with his hands, but it was a whole nother thing entirely to be good with his hands for Tommy. Pleased with himself, a heavy satisfaction settled warm in the pit of his stomach. He loved everything about this: having Tommy pliable and relaxed beneath him, working slick skin over with his hands, making Tommy feel good, being able to help in some small way.

Buck shuffled down, straddling Tommy’s leg so he could work his fingers into the outside of Tommy’s thigh where he knew a metal shard the size of his thumbnail lived. That one had been logged in there when an IED had struck the lead vehicle in their convoy, and some of Buck’s satisfaction melted away as he thought about just how many close calls his boyfriend’s body was littered with. He was normally the one getting shit for taking risks, but in truth Tommy was just as guilty as he was. 

Tommy had gone completely boneless underneath him, his skin pink and a little shiny from having Buck’s oiled up hands all over him. He continued to rub gently circles into his skin even after he’d finished with the final shrapnel wound he knew of, running his nails lightly over the thick swirls of hair on the backs of Tommy’s legs. 

Tommy shifted his hips against the mattress, spreading his legs a little wider. Buck knew that move, and that satisfaction in his gut twisted and flared back to life. He slid his hands up the backs of Tommy’s thighs as slowly as he could handle.

“Are you hard?” he asked, worming his fingers under the hem of Tommy’s shorts when he reached them. 

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “That felt really good, but, uh, we don’t have to do anything, you must be tired and–”

He was starting to sound way too with it for Buck’s liking. Buck dug his thumbs into the soft inner flesh of Tommy’s thighs and let his hips roll in a slow, pointed drag along the back of Tommy’s leg so there was no way he could miss the semi Buck was sporting.

Tommy’s muscles jumped under his hands as he groaned. “Okay, Okay, you’ve made your point. Help me out of these–”

Buck was more than happy to peel Tommy’s shorts down his legs as Tommy lifted his hips obligingly. He had half a mind to just dump a generous amount of the oil on Tommy’s big pale ass and go to town, but he had a feeling that would probably ruin the [slowly winding] mood they’d built. 

In a show of what he considered great restraint, Buck slipped a slick hand between Tommy’s thighs, rolling his balls softly in the palm of his hand just to hear the noises he would make. Quiet chuffs and deep groans were muffled by the pillow as Tommy ground his hips in lazy circles against the mattress and back into Buck’s hand, and Buck was starting to think he’d never get over how good it felt to have another man like this: a big body to push and pull and work at until it ultimately unraveled.

Buck stretched up so he could press a kiss to the thick curve of Tommy’s shoulder, not caring one bit about the oil that still clung to his skin. He let his hand drift up and rubbed his slick fingers indulgently over Tommy’s asshole, gratified by the way he moaned and pushed into it. 

“You can if you want to,” Tommy said, breathless, and Buck could tell without even looking at his face how gone he was just from having Buck’s hands on him. 

“I have a better idea,” Buck said, pulling at Tommy’s hip. “Here–roll onto your side for me.”

It didn’t take Tommy long to clue in once Buck pressed himself all up along his back and reached for the bottle of oil again, slicking his dick up in the shallow space between their bodies. 

His body tensed when realization dawned. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Evan– ” 

And it was Tommy’s turn to lose his cool, his voice reedy and feverish, a thin tremor through his body as Buck maneuvered his thigh so he could fit his dick into that hot, tight space between them. He wrapped an arm around the barrel of Tommy’s chest, pinning him tight against his own as Buck took that first long, indulgent roll of his hips. 

Buck had always enjoyed fucking someone’s thighs–what wasn’t there to like–but there was something specific about the way Tommy got so worked up over it, even in the early hours of the morning after a sleepless night, even when Buck had just worked his body to jello with his hands, that rocketed the act up into the stratosphere.

Tommy squeezed his thighs around him, Buck could hear the labored cadence of his breathing and the obscene sounds of him fisting his own cock, as Buck fucked the slick give of his thighs. The way the head of his dick kept nudging up against the soft resistance of Tommy’s balls with every stroke was still just different enough to scratch at Buck’s brain in new and interesting ways.

Tommy’s fingers dug into his hair, pulling Buck’s face down so he could slide their mouth together at an awkward angle. The kiss was sloppy, Tommy kept sucking Buck’s tongue into his mouth and then breaking away to moan again and again as he got closer to coming. Buck could feel it all through his body, wound like a coil ready to spring. He wasn’t far behind, his plan to keep things slow and simmering had fallen through quickly. He should have known better; with Tommy pressed against him like one big throbbing pulse, overwhelming Buck’s senses with the musky scent of his body, and the sounds he made when he touched himself, and how good it felt to rut against him like this, the desperate slide of skin against skin, there was just no chance he was going to last.  

Buck buried his face in the hollow of Tommy’s shoulder, just above where that pale constellation of shrapnel lived, and stilled as he came in thick pulses all along Tommy’s taint, that little space between his thighs instantly going wet and frictionless. 

Tommy made a wounded sound, and Buck held him tight in the cradle of his arms as Tommy hitched his hips into his fist until he came. He was still pressing kisses against Tommy’s damp hairline when Tommy reached up and laced their fingers together, no longer shaking. 

“Well, I’m definitely not thinking about the stupid shrapnel anymore.”

“Good,” Buck said, allowing himself to feel smug about it. “My work here is done.”

“Not so quick hot stuff,” Tommy said, reaching back to pat him on the hip. “I expect your help de-oiling in the shower. I think this mess is a four-handed operation.”

“Yes, sir.” Buck peeled himself from where he’d been clinging to Tommy like a limpet.

He took a moment to admire the long, glistening stretch of Tommy’s body, limp and satisfied. Debauched, even.

"What?" Tommy asked, stretching his arms above his head as he rolled onto his back, offering Buck a good view of where his come was actively drying in his happy trail. Buck would have a fun time scrubbing that out.

"Nothing, I'm just happy you're here, with me."

Tommy face went immediately soft and he pressed up on his knees so he could pull Buck into one more lingering kiss before breaking away.

"There's no where I'd rather be."

[yuikomorii]

I got a question but I need an objective answer please. So I saw a lot of people complain about Yui being written in a very bad way in Ayato’s routes starting with More Blood and was curious if you think that she became a bad girlfriend as the story progressed?

// I will analyze Yui’s versions from Ayato’s routes and provide an answer at the end of this post.

More Blood:

Even from the first two chapters we are aware of the fact that Yui got a big crush on Ayato merely because of his looks and pleasure he gave her. At first sight, these reasons seem very superficial, but at the same time you can’t blame her completely for that. Yui went to a normal school and used to read magazines for teens, therefore it’s obvious she would have hormones and fall in love with someone who got features portrayed as the beauty standard.

It's understandable why some found her annoying, as she repeatedly cried for Ayato's love without making any real effort to earn it. Apart from giving him her blood, she didn't try to understand what he was going through, even when she noticed changes in him that made him crave so much blood.

Nevertheless, I believe that she did redeem herself in the last chapters, where she admitted being selfish and only thinking about her own desires, instead of focusing on Ayato’s struggles too. I know she paralyzed him out of jealousy and cheated on him in the bad endings, but in the good one, she’s actually a really loyal person. Yui waited years for Ayato to wake up from the coma and Ayato searched for Yui for years in his dream until he finally woke up. This ending confirmed the genuineness of their love.

In the After Story, Ayato planned to attend university for Yui's sake, aiming to get a job and buy a house. Yui helped Ayato with his studies and praised his skills. Initially, she fell for his looks, but in the After Story, she mentioned falling in love with him again because of his caring, determined, and hardworking personality.

Vandead Carnival & Lunatic Parade:

I really liked Yui in both of Ayato's routes and honestly, I can't find anything to criticize about her behavior.

It's not that Yui was a bad partner; it's just that Ayato was portrayed as too good, such as when he ran through flames for her or protected her from a bomb explosion. But that's likely because these are fan service games, where the love interests are designed to be your knights in shining armor. xD

Dark Fate:

I absolutely loved Yui’s portrayal in that route. It was the sweetest version of Yui I’ve ever seen, and I really enjoyed seeing her so happy and soft. Regarding her relationship with Ayato, he was truly the apple of her eye, lol.

The only problematic thing she did was pushing Ayato to face his abuser, Cordelia, even though he didn’t want to. I honestly don’t care if a character does something to another character, as long as it doesn’t affect them and the story, so since Ayato didn’t get mad at her for that, I didn’t mind it much either. However, from an objective point of view, I agree that doing such a thing is quite bad. Being in the presence of someone who ruined your life can trigger intense memories and forcing a confrontation removes the victim's agency in deciding how to cope with their trauma. Ayato might not have been mad at Yui for planning that, but if it had been Laito, I’m sure he would have shown why Yui was in the wrong.

Other than that, she was a kind and supportive girlfriend throughout the whole route, clearly having no ill intent, and I appreciate that she had an actual important role in the route.

Lost Eden:

Ok, I really can’t defend her anymore there. She literally had no redeeming qualities, no matter how many times she got the chance to fix herself. I discussed my thoughts about LE Yui in this post, but I’ll sum it up.

She tried to convince Ayato that despite Cordelia abusing him, she actually did it because she “cared about his future”, and then acted surprised when Ayato started feeling uncomfortable because of her words.

Yui knew the reasons behind Ayato’s behavior, yet when his brothers started mocking him, she didn’t even try to defend him. Everyone ganged up on Ayato, and he was on the verge of a panic attack, yet she remained silent.

Another terrible scene was in one of the last chapters, when Ruki admitted to turning the Vibora Clan and Church organization against Ayato out of envy, aiming to kill him. Instead of criticizing Ruki’s actions, Yui justified them and spoke ill of Ayato behind his back. I wouldn’t like to date someone who claims to love me but keeps hurting me without learning anything… It felt as if Ayato only continued being together with her because he had no one else. No wonder he didn’t marry her there.

Chaos Lineage:

I found Yui quite boring in CL in general, but she started off as determined and sweet in his route, so I liked that.

For most of the route, Yui’s entire personality seemed to revolve around Ayato, and she didn’t do much. There were many cheesy moments between them that made me cringe. Still, I’m sure a certain audience enjoyed those.

My only complaint is that when his brothers started treating Ayato unfairly, despite the fact that he came up with the idea of breaking the glass floor of the church, Yui did nothing to defend him, again.

However, I do appreciate that she gave him that adorable monologue. I just wish she had done it in front of others instead of only acting when Ayato was already insecure and sad.

Now… let’s see what kind of girlfriend Yui was in each route by judging her progress:

MB: Good

VC: Good

DF: Very good

LP: Good

LE: Very bad

CL: Decent