#but i think it's kind of simply just like you don't have to like or relate to everyone in the community

[eiightysixbaby]

eat your heart out

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

in which eddie masters valentine’s day through the art of eating pussy

cw: 18+ ONLY — SMUT oral (f receiving)

a/n: an early valentine from me to all of u. mwah mwah hope u enjoy ❤️

Eddie Munson doesn't really know what to do when it comes to Valentine's Day.

It's not like he's an idiot; he understands that typically a romantic dinner or a bouquet of flowers and some chocolates are the perfect show of appreciation and affection.

But those things are typically reserved for your girlfriend, and you're not his girlfriend.

But you're also, like, not not his girlfriend.

Eddie doesn't really know what you are, and that's the issue. It started off with you guys just hooking up. Late nights in his van parked behind the school or in a dark part of some neighborhood. Quickies in the bathroom during a break in Hellfire sessions. But it's slowly started to morph into... something else? Eddie isn't one hundred percent sure, but he's noticed that you come over more often, and you don't just want to jump his bones and leave.

Sometimes you guys don't even fuck anymore. Sometimes you invite him over just to watch movies, or he'll ask you to go for a drive with him. You hold his hand under the table when you go out to Benny's diner with the friend group, and Steve keeps waggling his eyebrows at him suggestively every time he catches you two sitting extremely close to each other. Which just makes Eddie blush like a loser.

And, every time you two are about to part ways, you look like you really want to kiss him before he goes.

And sure, you guys have kissed before. He's not about to hook up with you without at least kissing you stupid first. But this is different. You've been looking at him like you just want to kiss him, with nothing to come afterwards.

It all makes him sweat if he thinks about it for too long.

So for now, in the midst of his anxious unwillingness to ask you the horrifying 'What are we?', he's simply decided to show his appreciation for you on Valentine's Day with the one thing he's certain you'll love. He can deal with his feelings and stuff, later.

Your hand fists its way into his hair, fingers gripping his unruly curls like they're the only thing still tethering you to earth. His knees press into the worn carpeting of the trailer, his mouth latched to your cunt while his hands keep the fabric of your skirt rucked up at your waist.

You’re standing with your back pressed against the kitchen counter, your sneakers still on. He barely gave you a moment to settle yourself upon arrival before he was on you like a bad rash.

What can he say? When it all comes down to it, he’s a simple man, and you’re his favorite meal.

“Eddie,” you sigh, tilting your head back in bliss.

His tongue swipes its way through your folds before finding your clit and sucking on it. He can feel your body tremble, your knees nearly buckling with the overwhelming sense of pleasure.

His big brown eyes chance a glance up at you, at the exact moment you’re looking down at him. Your lips part in a moan, his tongue flicking rapidly at your clit, though he’s not sure if it’s that or the eye contact that forced the sound from you.

He’s guessing the latter, because something in your gaze feels different. The entire moment feels different.

Before, being intimate with you felt reckless, hot. Now it’s like he’s spilling every word he hasn’t said to you into the space between your thighs, hoping you’ll read his secret code. Hoping desperately that he’s not seeing this wrong, that you actually do like him as much as he realizes he likes you.

He needs to chill before he whispers an I love you right here on his knees.

He breaks your gaze after a moment or two, letting his eyes fall closed once more. He can taste how wet you are, he’s lapping up your arousal with every swipe of his tongue, and he honestly would kind of be okay with dying right here. His face is completely buried in you, nose bumping your clit, tongue on a mission to be as deep inside of you as possible.

You let your hips buck, nearly grinding on his face as he licks and sucks and bites, his ringed fingers squeezing the meat of your ass now.

“Eddie, ohmygod,” you cry, your white knuckle grip on the countertop keeping you from collapsing.

“What is it, baby?” he asks sweetly, kitten licking your sensitive bud before taking it between his lips and sucking.

That’s another thing, he’s started calling you all of these pet names lately. And the more he does it, the more he finds he doesn’t want to stop. He might actually be physically incapable of stopping.

“Feels so good, I—” you gasp at the sudden intrusion of two of his fingers. “I fucking love you,” you rasp out, your body reaching its peak at the exact moment the words escape you.

Eddie’s eyes shoot up to look at you, going impossibly wide. Yet he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, he brings you fully through your high until you’re shaking all over. Your words did nothing but spur him on, more determined than ever to bring you crashing down around him.

Only once you’ve come down do you seem to process what you said, and for a minute all you can do is stare at each other.

“Eddie, I—” you scramble, but he’s quicker.

“No. Don’t backtrack. Don’t do that,” he says, still on his knees before you. Still tasting you on his lips, still feeling you beneath his fingertips.

He rises to his feet, hooking a finger under your chin. You’re giving him that look again. The one that makes it seem like you want to kiss him more than you want to breathe.

And so he gives in. Lips smashing to yours, in a completely different context than any of the times before. He hopes you can feel everything he feels just through this kiss. Hopes he’s getting his point across.

The way you pull him flush up against you to deepen the kiss gives him the idea that his point was received.

Eddie Munson is great at this whole Valentine’s Day thing.

[yoyomomiko]

Hiiii, I love your writing sm! <33

Could you write monster trio hcs with an s/o who is completely oblivious to their flirting?

Obvs u don't have to write this if u don't wanna! :]

pairings: monster trio x female reader

cw: luffy doesn't really flirt (I don't know how luffy would be flirting I'm sorry), not proofread , probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

— (a/n): okay so like... I kind of got carried away and didn't really stay with the request and I just realized it now that i'm done writing :(( it just doesn't feel right, I mean, they're not really flirting... it's more like, indirect flirting, you know?? i'm veryyy sorry!!! :(( -> m.list

— LUFFY

Luffy doesn't even understand the concept of flirting, he simply doesn't know how to flirt. He just does things that feel right, like holding your hand all the time or hugging you randomly.

He CONSTANTLY invades your personal space, leaning in way too close when he talks, but you just assume he's always like that (which, in a way, is true).

Luffy will offer you food, which is a huge deal, but you just think he's being generous and thank him without reading into it.

He calls you "his favourite person" or "his girl", but you just assume it's meant to be platonically.

He'll grab your hand and swing it while walking, and when you ask why he simply shrugs. "Dunno, feels right!"

If another guy talks to you, Luffy pouts and clings to you, but you just think he's being his usual affectionate self.

If you ever find yourself in danger, Luffy's protective instincts go overdrive. However, he doesn't exactly know how to express it in a way that makes sense.

He gives you his hat when it's sunny, grinning at you joyfully, like it's a big deal. And then you're just like "Aw, thanks!" And you don't understand why he looks so disappointed (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Luffy likes sitting next to you during meals, pressing his leg against yours. But you just pull away since you think he just needs more room.

He LITERALLY tells you "I like you a lot!" And you're just like "I like you too!" And ruffle his hair.

He tells you that he'll protect you forever, with the most serious expression ever, and you'll just assume he's being a good captain.

Whenever you hug him, he picks you up and spins you around, grinning like an idiot.

He trusts you with his hat. Like, he trusts you. He lets you wear it all the time, because he knows you'll take care of it. Heck, he's the one placing it on your head! You don't really think much of it, though.

Eventually, Luffy gets frustrated and just blurts out "I wanna be your boyfriend!" And waits for you to finally get it.

———☆

Luffy had been looking for you all morning, walking around the ship, asking everyone where you were. When he finally spotted you on the deck, sitting with Usopp, he rushed over excitedly. He felt his chest tighten whenever he saw you talking with anybody else, but he always brushed it off.

"[Y/N]! I need you!" Luffy grinned, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Usopp's conversation.

"What's wrong?" You asked, chuckling a bit at his sudden enthusiasm.

"I just wanted to talk to you! You always hang out with everyone else, but you never hang out with me!" Luffy pouted, pulling you along toward the bow of the ship. He threw himself down on the ground dramatically, patting the spot next to him. "Come, sit with me!"

You raised an eyebrow, a bit amused as you leaned over him. "Are you really this clingy all the time?" You teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Yeah!" Luffy exclaimed with a wide grin, nudging you to sit next to him. As soon as you sat down, he immediately leaned against you, resting his head on your shoulder. "I just like being close to you. You're my favorite person!"

You smiled and ruffled his hair, thinking he was being his usual goofy self. "You're my favourite person too." You replied, smile widening a bit. "You're a great captain."

He grinned, but then he got serious, standing up straight, staring at you. "No, no, I mean... I like you! I really like you!" He repeated, a little louder this time, a faint pink decorating his cheeks.

You blinked at him, not quite processing it. "Aw, that's sweet! I really like you too."

Luffy just whined, burying his face in his hands as he quietly mumbled something under his breath. You just laughed, patting him on the back as he continued whining. "I think you need a nap, Luffy!"

— ZORO

Zoro isn't the best with words, so his flirting is more about physical gestures, like carrying your things and such.

He always makes sure to sit next to you, no matter where you are, but you just assume it's a coincidence.

He trains shirtless around you more than necessary, subtly flexing, but you never seem to notice.

Speaking of training, he helps you train, standing behind you to correct your form, giving you advice.

I already said he's not the best with words, but he has a tendency to compliment you, although not directly. He might praise your abilities in a fight. You don't really think twice about it, but to Zoro, it's his own form of adoration for you.

He always glares at Sanji when he's flirting with you, but you just think they're bickering as usual.

If another man shows interest in you, Zoro's natural reaction is to stare them down with a glare. You'll never notice his intense gaze, because you think that he's just annoyed by something unrelated.

If you ask for help reaching something, he doesn't just simply hand it to you. He lifts you up effortlessly, just as an excuse to feel you in his arms.

If you're tired, he'll literally carry you to the girl's room. You just think he's being a good friend, as if he does it for everyone else (he doesn't).

He loves it when you nap near him during his training, he just likes your presence. You always think it's just because he's comfortable around you.

If you get hurt, he's the first to scold you. "Be more careful." He's the one patching you up, not letting Chopper get near you (unless it's a serious injury).

Zoro's way of showing affection is through silent protection. You'll never notice that he's doing it for you specifically, and he won't say anything to make it obvious.

He also kind of teases you playfully, as a form of affection. He'll make fun of you when you do something silly, but he's never too mean about it.

He gets SUPER protective in battle, always watching your back. He can't bring himself to look at you badly wounded.

Literally EVERYONE notices how protective he is of you, but somehow you never do. Even strangers think so.

Like I've said before, he finds excuses to touch you. For example, gently guiding you through crowds by the small of your back.

He also somehow always catches you when you trip. Right before you hit the ground, he's there, arms wrapped around you and helping you stand back on your feet.

Eventually, he just grabs your face one day and says something like "Damn it, I like you. Get it now?"

———☆

You were standing near the railing, gazing out at the ocean, watching the sunset, completely lost in your thoughts. That was, until you heard heavy footsteps approaching behind you.

"You've been standing there forever. You lost or something?" Zoro's voice came from beside you, his usual gruff voice a little softer.

You glanced at him as a smile tugged at your lips. "Nah, just thinking. The ocean looks really pretty right now."

Zoro leaned against the railing next to you, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't exactly great at this whole flirting thing, but if Sanji could do it, how hard could it be? He decided to go for something subtle. Something cool.

"Yeah, well..." He muttered, his gaze lingering on you a second too long. "It's not the only thing that looks pretty around here."

You turned to him, blinking in confusion. "Oh yeah! The ship looks great in this lighting too." You smiled as you took a look around, completely missing the way Zoro's expression dropped.

He sighed, shaking his head slightly before he tried again. "That's... Not what I meant."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "Oh, you meant the sunset, huh? Yeah. It's really nice."

Zoro stared at you for a long moment, his lips parting slightly, trying to process how this was going so terribly wrong. He tried again, this time leaning just a little closer, lowering his voice. "I was talking about you, idiot."

You blinked at him, slightly tilting your head to the side. "Me?"

Zoro nodded, waiting, praying for the realization to hit you already.

"Ohhh." You finally broke the silence, and for a moment, his heart skipped a beat.

"That's really sweet, Zoro! You think I look nice too?" You chuckled, as if he had just complimented your outfit instead of attempting to flirt with you.

Zoro groaned, running a hand down his face. "Yeah, sure, that's what I meant..." He mumbled, admitting defeat.

You gave him a friendly pat on the back. "You're getting a lot nicer, you know that? I think hanging around me is softening you up."

He let out a quiet scoff, turning his gaze back to the sea. "Or maybe I'm just like that with you."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

— SANJI

Sanji is the king of exaggerated compliments. Every time he looks at you, it's as if he's seeing the most beautiful person in the world. "My darling, the moon is jealous of your beauty tonight." is a pretty common line from him, but you just think it's his usual behavior.

He constantly tries to impress you with his cooking. He'll make your favourite dish and serve it with grace, and when you compliment the food, he blushes as if you're complimenting him. You thank him every time, but in your mind, it's just good manners.

He will find any excuse to help you with something, even if it's small, like picking up something you dropped. And the moment you thank him for it he's like "Anything for you my lovely lady!" You just smile and move on because he does that with pretty much every woman.

Sanji's always the first one to offer you his jacket when it gets cold. Sometimes, when he gets brave, he wraps it around your shoulders and makes sure to linger closer to you for just a little longer.

He has a soft spot for you when you're sad, and he'll stop whatever he's doing to comfort you. He'll hold your hand, stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings. You just assume it's because he's a gentleman, not because he's crushing on you hard.

Sanji can be pretty possessive, especially when another guy is even slightly flirting with you. You'll catch him glaring, and if anyone so much as dares to brush against your arm, he'll throw a fit. That person might get a foot to the face, but who knows!!

Whenever you compliment his cooking or his fighting skills, he gets way more flustered than with anyone else. His eyes will turn into hearts, and he'll literally swoon.

Sanji often stares at you with wide starry eyes but when you catch him, he'll just say something like "Oh, nothing! Just admiring my beautiful angel." You think he's being his usual self or just lost in thought.

He makes a huge deal out of holding the door for you, pulling your chair at dinner and guiding you with his arm. But you think it's just because he's being polite. He tries to take your hand as he walks you around, but you just think he's offering help, never suspecting that he's being a little more than just polite.

After all his dramatic declarations of love, he finally cracks. One evening, while you're standing by the railing, he walks up to you and throws himself down at your feet. "I cannot live without you! You're my everything, and I need you to understand that!"

———☆

Sanji had been watching you all day. When you first arrived and joined the crew, he had already been swooning, but now, after spending this much time with you, he was completely smitten. He had made your favourite dessert just for you, and now he was patiently waiting for you to notice.

You peacefully sat on the deck, reading a book, when Sanji rushed over, holding a plate of freshly made pastries. "Ah, my darling! I've made these just for you!" He smiled, leaning down with a hand on his chest in a dramatic bow. "Only the finest for my beautiful lady."

You looked up from your book, a little surprised. "Oh, Sanji! Thank you so much! You really didn't have to, but I appreciate it!"

Sanji's heart skipped a bit as you reached for one of the pastries, giving him a sweet smile. "Anything for you, my love." He muttered, but his voice came out softer, almost like a whisper. He was looking at you like you were the only person in the world. He pressed a hand to his heart, praying you couldn't hear how loud it was beating.

You giggled, thinking nothing of it as you took a bite from the pastry. "This is so good! I don't think I've said this enough, but you're really talented."

He blinked, and his face turned pink, clearly flustered by the compliment. "I only make the best for you, [Y/N]." He replied, his voice shaking just slightly. He leaned in a little closer, almost as if hoping you'd get the hint. "You deserve nothing less."

You looked up, gazing at him, smiling warmly. "Thank you, Sanji. I appreciate it..."

He sighed dramatically and placed a hand to his forehead. "Oh, my sweet [Y/N], how I adore you..." His voice trailed off as he stared into the distance.

"You okay?" You tilted your head, genuinely concerned. But once again, completely oblivious to how he was really feeling.

He slumped forward onto the table, groaning in agony. "I don't think I can take it anymore..." He mumbled under his breath, barely audible. "Why can't you see how I feel?!"

★yoyomiko ★miko

[tjlime]

I remember back in high-school when I was on 4chan basically constantly. I remember downloading one of the meme compilation albums at the time and it had Fuck The MPAA by Futuristic Sex Robotz.

Initially I didn't like it. At the time I was on track to be a good little nazi fuck. Thankfully I pulled my ass out of that shit before it had gone anywhere, but anyway. At the time I was listening to more and more punk stuff thanks to a friend of mine. I identified with the struggle and bullshit that punk music is all about. I remember having a moment arguing with myself that basically came down to "You like the subject material yeah? Then the style should not matter, it has value as is." Not necessarily with those words, but same notion. And so I started listening to it more and more. And eventually started climbing out of the "Rap/Hip-pop is full of sex and drugs" boomer bullshit I had been fed all my life. And realized in an epiphany that I still hold on to, "Punk and Rap are the same subject matter made from two view points, with different styles with the same conclusions." (Idk if that's a hot take or not, don't @ me)

Then in college I started looking more into other kinds of music. Really branching out and discovering. And I think it was finally Kendrick Lamar's album good kid, m.A.A.d city that really solidified my love of rap. Shortly after I found Run the Jewels, Childish Gambino, Deathgrips, Tyler the Creator. And yet still I explore and find new artists that I love.

But yeah. I would say don't give up on the 4channers, especially the edgy teens that think shock and gore and casual slurs are cool. They'll grow out of that and have a moment of retrospection, hopefully. It took work and effort to be the person I am and realize how vile I was back then. And it was just one song that sparked that change.

And probably don't give up on the tumblr peeps either. I personally think it's just one song that makes a spark of curiosity to explore. Style, composition choice, subject matter, rhythm, rhyming scheme, any number of these can be the key. Like it was for me.

[I am not an expert on music theory or the themes of rap/punk/etc. at all, these are simply my personal observations and conclusions]

[[Also don't fucking come @ me for my music choices]]

rap has probably been the most consistently popular and influential genre of music for the past 40+ years but your average person on tumblr is less willing to listen to it than a random white teenage boy in the suburbs or a 4channer who lurks on /mu/ every once in a while

[wholoveseggs]

heyyyyy girllll, ik that you already wrote a series about a professor and student, but could you pleaseeeee make a one shot with a virgin reader🥹🥹🥹

Angel

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!vampire!Reader} Newly turned and overwhelmed, one hunger refuses to be ignored. You need guidance, and who better to teach you than Elijah Mikaelson?

♡♡ You didn't specify what kind of teacher.... so I took some creative libertiessss (DON'T BANG YOUR TEACHERS, OKAY?? NOT A WISE THING TO DO(EXCEPT IF THEY ARE A MIKAELSON))~ ♡♡

5k words {whoops} - Warnings: smuutttt, vampire!reader, virgin!reader, first time, a brief Hayley cameo, blood drinking, riding, reader knows what she wants, Elijah talking you through it, teaching, oral sex (f!receiving), feeding during sex, possessive but tender Elijah && a pet name...

"So, you're just going to waltz in and ask him?" Hayley asked, shocked at how blunt you were being.

"Well, yeah," you replied nonchalantly. "How else am I supposed to do it?"

"I don't know," she said, "maybe try being more subtle?"

Hayley looked at you like you'd lost your mind, but you just shrugged, unbothered. The constant hum of your heightened emotions had been driving you insane for days. Hunger, anger, lust. Mostly lust. And no matter how much you tried to control it, you couldn’t shake the gnawing, primal need clawing at you from the inside out.

"Subtlety is overrated," you said, crossing your arms. "I don’t think Elijah would appreciate me batting my lashes and giggling like a schoolgirl. He values directness."

"Yeah, but there's direct, and then there's direct," Hayley shot back, looking equally horrified and intrigued. "I mean, do you even know if he's into you?"

You paused, considering. Elijah was your mentor; your teacher when it came to all things vampire. He was always so composed, so controlled, but there was something in the way he looked at you. He was always assessing, always holding himself back. You'd caught him staring once or twice when he thought you weren’t looking. And there was that one time he murmured something in that low, velvety voice of his about lust being a difficult thing for new vampires to control…

"I think he is," you said simply.

"Okay, but what if he says no?" Hayley pressed.

You smirked, enjoying her mild jealousy. "Then I’ll go take an ice bath and reevaluate my choices."

Hayley groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is the most unhinged plan I’ve ever heard. And I've lived in this house with Klaus."

"Wish me luck," you said with a wink before striding down the hall toward Elijah’s study.

Your hands clenched at your sides as you stopped outside his door, suddenly hyper aware of how fast your heart was racing. Vampire senses made everything feel more. More intense, more overwhelming. But there was no turning back now. You wanted this. No. You needed this.

Taking a breath, you knocked once before pushing the door open.

Elijah sat at his desk, a glass of bourbon in one hand, an old book in the other. He barely glanced up as he said, “I take it this is a social visit?”

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you. “No, it’s not... well... actually...”

Finally, his dark eyes lifted to meet yours, curiosity flickering across his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You exhaled sharply and walked toward him, each step deliberate. "I want you to teach me something new... Something important."

His brow arched. "What is it that you think you're lacking in your education?"

You stopped in front of his desk, trying not to focus on the way his shirt clung to his toned chest. "I don't need any more history lessons, or lectures on self-control. I know all of that."

"Oh really? You've been a vampire for less than a month, and already you know everything I could possibly teach you?" he asked, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Not everything," you said, leaning forward to brace yourself on his desk. "I still have lots to learn and there's one lesson I'm hoping you can teach me, and I'd like you to start right now."

His eyes narrowed, darting to your lips for a brief moment before snapping back to yours. "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

You swallowed, nerves clashing with the hunger and lust burning inside you. Then, with as much confidence as you could muster, you blurted it out.

"I want you to teach me how to have sex."

For the first time since you had met him, Elijah Mikaelson actually looked stunned. The glass in his hand halted halfway to his lips, eyes widening fractionally before his expression resumed its usual cool facade. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I beg your pardon?"

You bit your lip, cheeks flushing as you replayed the words in your head, suddenly embarrassed. But no, you had decided, you would be direct.

"Before I was turned... I, uh, I didn't get a chance to, you know, lose my virginity. So, I don't know what I'm doing... And I'm worried if I just pick up a random guy, I might kill him..." You spoke quickly, already regretting opening your mouth. What was wrong with you?

"Are you propositioning me, my dear?"

Something like warm amusement flickered in his eyes, and you relaxed a little, straightening. You expected pity, the way Hayley had looked at you. Judgment. Anything but the glint in Elijah's eyes as they slowly raked down your body, gaze sharpening with interest as it darkened.

A giddy flutter rose in your chest, and you licked your lips.

"Yes."

Silence fell over the room as Elijah set his drink down and stood, walking slowly toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. When he finally stopped, his chest was nearly brushing yours, the proximity making your head spin.

"Tell me, why have you chosen me for this particular lesson?" he murmured, fingers reaching up to trace the line of your jaw.

A jolt of heat ran through you, and you tried to remember how to speak. "Well, you're, uh, a noble gentleman... I trust you."

He chuckled. "I try my best. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"Um..." You trailed off, his fingers slipping under your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Be honest, angel,"

"Because..." you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks. Angel? He just called you angel.

"Because... I think about you, all the time," you admitted. "Ever since I became a vampire. It's like every feeling is dialed up to eleven. Except my desire. It's a thousand times worse than that, and I can't make it stop. It's torture. And I know it's inappropriate, but..."

"It's not," Elijah interjected, his fingers sliding down the length of your throat. "We can't help what we want, can we?"

You shook your head.

"What is it that you want, my little vampire?"

You swallowed, your eyes flickering to his lips. "I want to kiss you."

His lips curved into a smirk, and then his mouth was on yours, firm but gentle. His lips moved slowly, expertly, and your entire body flooded with warmth, your legs suddenly unsteady. He felt so good. Smelled so good.

Your arms went around his neck, pulling him closer. You had kissed boys before, but it was nothing like this. This was an out-of-body experience, like the whole world was melting away and there was only the two of you.

He moved away far too soon, and a small sound of protest left your lips.

"So eager," he said, tipping your chin up to look at him. "Is that all you want? A kiss?"

You shook your head, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping. "No."

He smiled, his hands moving down your waist to your hips, gripping lightly, pulling you flush against him. "Our bodies have an enhanced awareness of what they want, what they need." He paused, pressing a kiss to the column of your throat, then, so quietly it was almost inaudible,  "Humans have sex drives, but ours..."

"Are stronger," you finished in a raspy voice. "More Intense."

Elijah hummed. "Very."

"So, you'll teach me then?"

He chuckled softly, lifting his head to capture your lips in another slow, deep kiss. "Teaching isn't the word I would use,"

A blush spread from your chest to your cheeks. You nodded, wanting more than anything for him to tumble you into bed and show you all the things his thousand years had taught him. He was patient, though, and the way he was kissing you now was driving you mad.

He lifted you effortlessly, and you let out a soft gasp. Before you could blink, you were in his bedroom, him pressing your back into the mattress, his hands everywhere. His lips trailed down the column of your throat, tongue darting out to taste the soft skin.Your hands curling into his chest, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't rip my shirt," he murmured against your neck, and you giggled.

"Sorry,"

"You will be," he said, pulling back to give you a dark smile.

A thrill of anticipation ran through you, and you pushed him onto his back, climbing onto his lap, the heat between your legs throbbing with need. Your lips crashed together again, more frantic this time, more desperate. Teeth clashed, biting, nibbling, sucking. All the while, a heady ache grew between your thighs, and when he cupped your ass, pulling your hips flush against his, you could feel his own primal need straining against his trousers.

You moaned into his mouth, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, needing more. "Please, Elijah," you murmured, sighing at the soft kisses he began to trail along your throat. "I need you."

"Patience, angel,"

With a frustrated groan, you slumped against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His scent surrounded you. Aftershave, musk, something distinctly masculine and earthy. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment. Then you heard it, his blood, pumping steadily beneath his skin, calling to you. You wanted to sink your fangs into him, taste his hot blood coursing over your tongue.

You felt your vampire nature take over, veins protruding beneath your eyes, fangs extending. Instinct urged you forward, pressing soft kisses to his neck before nuzzling his warm skin, hunger gnawing inside your bones.

He chuckled at the gentle, kitten-like kisses you pressed to his neck, your fangs scratching his skin. He pulled your head away, urging your eyes to meet his as a glimmer of amusement danced in his. "So bloodthirsty,"

"C'mon, please." you whined, leaning in and kissing him deeply, trying to press your core against his bulge. You grunted, bucking your hips, starting a rhythm. Fuck he smelled so good, he felt so good, every fiber of your being yearning for his touch.

Your fangs brushed against his lower lip, drawing blood. He hissed, kissing you harder. His fingers tightened against the back of your head as he angled your face to give himself more access. You mewled as your hands clung to his chest, feeling his cock stiff against your stomach was doing terrible things to you.

"Look at me."

You obeyed instantly, his compulsion bringing you to a screeching halt. You whimpered, panting and needy. As his bloody lip healed, a single drop trickled down his chin, and you shivered, licking your lips as you followed the droplet's path with your eyes.

"Relax," he cooed, smirking as he wiped it away. "Don't you worry. I'm going to give you exactly what you want. But," he added in a darker tone, "only when I say."

Swallowing hard, you nodded, bracing your hands against his shoulders. "Okay,"

"Good girl,"

A rush of arousal shot through you at the praise, and a needy whine escaped your lips.

He smirked. "Oh, you like that? Being told what a good girl you are?"

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and his smirk widened. 

"Take your clothes off for me," he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You quickly scrambled off his lap, flushed with heat as you stripped, pulling your dress over your head, watching Elijah watch you. His eyes tracked your every move, drinking you in as your bra came off. Then, with your shaky fingers, you hooked your thumbs under your panties, slowly peeling them down your thighs. Finally, you stood in front of him, naked, exposed, trembling, heart pounding in your ears.

"My, you're even lovelier than I'd imagined,"

You ached to feel him, craving more, more, more. A spark flashed in his gaze. You wanted him. Everything about this felt right. Every part of him wanted you too. His restraint was nothing but a mask, all for your benefit. You knew that once he lost his control, he would not be the patient and kind teacher you knew so well. Underneath that carefully crafted image was a beast, a creature of immense power, a force to be reckoned with.

"What's wrong, my dear?"

His voice pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes flitting up to his. A faint smirk played on his lips as his hand slid to your hip, dragging you closer. "Can't remember how to speak?"

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent thought.

"That's alright," he said, kissing his way down the side of your neck. “tell me if it gets too overwhelming,”

You nodded, inhaling sharply as your bare skin brushed his, your hands flat against his broad chest. His lips found yours again, deepening the kiss as his tongue parted your lips. Something was happening to you, this unfamiliar feeling. You could tell something big was building inside, a need, and Elijah was unravelling it, unraveling you.

He chuckled against your lips as he cupped your face, slowly pulling back just enough to gaze at you with those deep, brown eyes of his. He took your hand and sat you down at the edge of the bed.

"Don't be shy," he whispered. "It's just me."

You gulped. Just Elijah. Sure. How reassuring.

The room felt like it was spinning around you, but as you looked at him, everything steadied. He took a step back, unbuttoning his collar slowly. You wanted him. You could barely stop yourself from reaching for his belt, your hunger overriding every thought and impulse. You mustered all the self-control Elijah had taught you, forcing yourself to sit still as your thighs clenched together, the urge to relieve yourself building and building.

Elijah tilted his head, enjoying how desperate you were becoming, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his shirt came undone. He tossed the article of clothing on the ground.

Your eyes drifted over his bare chest, his nice arms and toned torso. A breath escaped you when your eyes moved down to see the defined outline of his cock against the material of his slacks. He was big, so big, so thick, so—

Your face went hot. A jolt of reality hitting you, everything felt so much, all at once. The hunger for his touch, for his taste. The way he smelled so fucking good. Everything was amplified, your every sense alive and thrumming. You bit your lip and watched as his slacks hit the ground and he stepped out of them, your mouth practically salivating.

Elijah was fucking stunning, and all yours.

He smiled and placed one of his knees on the edge of the bed. The movement made it bounce ever so slightly, and your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but the only sound you could manage was a squeak.

He reached for you, pulling you close and capturing your lips in his again. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to surrendered to him, letting yourself feel him, really feel him.

"This is going to feel very intense for you," he murmured in the small space between your mouths, "your emotions and needs heightened. All your senses are in overdrive."

A sigh left you as you opened your eyes again to meet his, dark and full of promises you never dreamed of before. His eyes, they made you tremble, they were so warm, so intense. And when they dropped to your mouth, the heat pooling between your thighs intensified tenfold.

"Don't feed until I say so, you understand?" He pulled back slightly, tilting his head and giving you a warning look, making sure he had your complete attention.

You swallowed and nodded. "I won't,"

"Good girl," he hummed before dipping down to kiss your lips.

His kiss was more possessive, his touch more demanding. Elijah pushed you back into the bed, your hair sprawling around you as he kissed you senseless. His lips left yours and kissed down your jawline, down your neck, to the swell of your breasts. You moaned when you felt his hot, wet mouth close around your nipple, your body thrumming when he nipped your flesh between his teeth, giving the other the same treatment.

The throbbing was intense and so damn good. His mouth was magic as he kissed a path down your stomach, making you feel like your entire being was ablaze, your desire burning deep. You writhed, his lips curling into a smile against your skin. He could probably hear how hard your heart was pounding. He was driving you mad with need.

"Please, Elijah," you breathed, squirming beneath him as his mouth continued to work over you, down your abdomen.

A deep, husky chuckle rumbled in his chest as his lips pressed to the sensitive skin on your inner thighs, teasing, tantalizing you with each featherlight kiss. Your breathing picked up, his mouth so close to where you wanted him. Both of your hands tangled in his dark hair, nerves and anticipation waring in your mind.

His hands came up, parting your knees slowly. He hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, widening his tongue and lapping you from your core to your clit, giving the tiny bud a teasing swirl of his tongue. The moan you let out was low and full of lust, a kind of lust you'd never felt before. Magnified, overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Relax, angel," His lips brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves with each word, making your heart jump to your throat, making it almost hard to breathe.

Your hips rolled forward, pushing you against his lips, seeking more pressure, more friction. You felt so wanton, so desperate, so needy. You felt him smile against your core as his mouth engulfed you, his tongue swirling and sucking as he slowly pressed his middle finger inside you.

Your whole body stiffened and clenched around him as your mouth fell open. A string of low and soft curses fell from your lips, and your back arched against his bed as he pumped his finger in and out.

"Elijah, oh, oh fuck," your voice broke as another moan escaped you when his tongue lapped at your clit. He curled his finger up inside you, sending a ripple of heat straight up your spine.

You tipped over the edge instantly, a white-hot heat engulfing you. You came in waves, your eyes clenched shut as your head fell back into the plush comforter beneath you. Elijah didn't stop his movements, working you through your climax and beyond until your hips stilled, and your breathing leveled out.

You felt so spent, but the ache inside you only deepened, intensified. You knew what you really needed to quench the fire, you knew that Elijah was the only one who could give you that. Your fangs itched, throbbing behind your gums, ready to come out when the moment was right.

Elijah sat up, wiping his mouth and looking pleased with himself as he looked down at your naked form beneath him. You bit your lip, heat creeping into your cheeks as you smiled at him.

"That was..." you trailed off, unable to form the proper words to describe what the fuck you had just experienced.

Elijah grinned as he dipped back down and pressed a long and loving kiss to your lips. He pulled you closer as you deepened the kiss. He kissed you so sweetly and softly, his hands resting on your lower back and his tongue slowly mapping out your mouth. You hummed into his kiss as you ran your fingers down his toned back, pulling him close.

"Now, my sweet angel," Elijah murmured, tilting your face up so his dark eyes locked with yours. "Are you ready for your final lesson?"

"Yes, Elijah," you whispered, your lips brushing against his. “Please,”

Elijah took one of your legs and wrapped it around him as his cock nudged your core. He was teasing you, moving the tip up and down your slit, making your entire body quiver as he kissed down your neck, finding a spot just behind your ear and nibbling gently.

He continued this pattern, your whines becoming needy and pathetic. Elijah's smirk pressed to your skin as his fangs nipped at your shoulder. Your head rolled back, giving him more room as he suckled on your pulse point.

"Such a good student for me, always listening, always eager." He said between nips. "Are you going to keep being my good girl?"

A strangled yes fell from your lips as Elijah nudged at your entrance. You whined and panted, trying to wiggle your hips and get him to sink his cock inside you, but he only chuckled and gripped your hips, pinning you to the bed as he nuzzled your neck.

"Let's not be impatient," he whispered, the low and possessive tone in his voice made a shiver roll down your spine. "There's so much I have yet to teach you, darling."

Elijah pressed his hips forward, and you felt the tip of him press against your entrance. He moved his face away from your neck as he pressed into you.

Your hands clung to him as you braced for it, this thing, this big, scary thing you never experienced, was suddenly happening. “It's okay," he hummed, "just breathe, angel,"

Your face felt warm as you looked at him and took a deep breath. He leaned forward, kissing your lips lovingly as his hands squeezed your hips, pulling you closer, sinking deeper.

His thrusts were slow, languid, intense. Elijah held himself up on his forearms, caging you as he looked down at you. Your mouth parted as your eyes locked with his. His slow and teasing rhythm had you trembling beneath him.

"My sweet little vampire," he purred, a deep sound in the back of his throat. "So good for me."

The words of praise were too much, the sight of Elijah above you, the feeling of him inside you. Your nails raked down his back, digging into his skin, needing him closer, wanting more, desperate to consume it all. 

A sudden vampiric urge took over, and you pushed on his chest with all your strength, he chuckled and sat back, letting you take the lead with a smirk on his face. In one swift move you were straddling his lap, sinking back down onto his cock and making both of you moan.

You were running on pure instinct as you began to move your hips, trying to find the right rhythm. He cupped your ass in his hands, his thumbs stroked your skin gently as you bounced up and down on his lap.

"Like this, angel," he said softly, repositioning your knees as you gripped his shoulders. "Here," he pulled one hand away from your ass to show you the correct motion to roll your hips with, guiding you until your movements matched his instructions.

"A fast learner in all things," He purred as a grin formed on your face, making him smile in return. You kept the movement of your hips steady, trying to control the bloodlust in your peripherals. 

Your hips slowed and you leaned forward to kiss along his neck, your fangs extending, and a new feeling came over you. A hunger that couldn't be filled by blood or sex. This hunger needed both, primally, simultaneously. And it had a target.

You felt him grip you a little tighter as your hips rocked a little faster. The bed began to creak softly beneath you as you increased your rhythm, his head rolled back with a soft moan. The sound only spurred you on.

Elijah gripped the back of your head and pulled you up for a kiss. He moaned into your mouth when you swirled your hips. The movement caused your clit to rub against him, giving you that delicious friction you so badly needed.

The wild hunger was taking over, obscene bloodlust. Clouding all reasoning. Your fangs ached with a painful desire to bite him, sink into him, take his blood.

"Elijah," you murmured between kisses. You couldn't wait any longer. Your eyes were black, your fangs extended, veins dancing under your eyes, and Elijah chuckled at the look. "Elijah, can I—"

He kissed you harder, his grip on your hips tightening. "Take what you need, angel,"

A growl came from the back of your throat, and your lips went straight to his neck. The moment you sunk your fangs in his skin, he moaned deeply, making your clench around him.

Time seemed to fall away as you tasted Elijah's blood. It was rich and sweet, nothing like anything you'd ever tasted before. It felt like you were in some sort of haze, unable to stop yourself from bouncing and moaning in Elijah's lap as you fed on him. Blinded by pure and unadulterated pleasure.

It was heaven, pure and simple, the taste of him. A moan rumbled from the depths of his chest, and you felt the reverberation of his groan through his neck.

You were drunk off his blood, high off his touch. Everything about him was intoxicating. The sounds, the taste, the feeling, the sin of it all.

"Don't stop," he groaned. "Fuck, don't stop."

You couldn't even if you tried. You would never disobey an order from him. Your hips were moving at an almost inhuman pace, the taste of his blood only adding fuel to the fire inside. He was all yours, and you were his. Blood, sex, breath, skin, all intermingling. You felt his hand come up and tangle into your hair, holding you to his neck as his other hand moved to the small of your back, adjusting your rhythm to an inhuman level.

"Just like that, angel, fuck," his voice was a strangled whisper, his head rolled back as a loud, throaty groan left him.

The way his body stiffened, the way he moaned, and the way his hips snapped up into yours, his cock thrusting deep into you had you seeing stars. You were coming, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It was all too much. His blood, his cum, the feeling of him deep inside you, the taste of him on your lips, the scent of him everywhere. Everything exploded at once. White hot fire rolled over and under your skin, like you were being consumed by napalm. 

He moaned deeply as you rode out your orgasms, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly pressed against his chest. You panted, trying to catch your breath as his mouth found yours, he bit down on your lip, your own blood flooding his mouth, mingling with the taste of his. Completing the connection, blood mixing, becoming one. 

You were panting, breathless, sated. But the need wasn't gone. The hunger lingered. The desire remained. You didn't think it would ever be fully quenched.

Elijah pressed a few gentle kisses to your lips before he laid down, bringing you with him. He shifted so that his softening cock slipped out of you and cradled you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as the two of you lay there in silence, catching your breath.

Your body felt exhausted and sore, but so fucking good, too. Your head was swimming as Elijah looked at you with a tender, loving gaze, a hint of pride lingering in the brown eyes that studied you. You felt your face grow hot under his scrutiny, feeling self-conscious from how intensely he was watching you.

Elijah’s fingers traced idle circles against your back, his breath warm against your temple. "You’re thinking too much, angel," he murmured, amusement laced in his voice.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I just... I don’t know what this means to you." The words felt clumsy now, uncertain in a way you hadn’t been when you had marched into his study and asked him to ruin you.

Elijah hummed, tilting his head like he was considering something. "Curious," he mused. "You certainly weren’t so hesitant when you strolled into my study and propositioned me like one might ask for a book recommendation."

The heat that bloomed across your cheeks was now traveling down your neck. "That was different."

"Was it?" He chuckled, low and indulgent. "You seemed quite certain then. So impatient, so eager. So hopelessly distracted during our lessons. Tell me, was it always lust muddling your focus, or was it just me?"

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. "I regret everything."

"No, you don’t," he countered, the smug grin evident in his voice. "But tell me, angel, why the sudden uncertainty?"

You bit your lip, the vulnerability creeping back in. "I don’t know if this was just... a lesson for you. That this is just casual,"

Elijah stilled for half a second. Just long enough for doubt to gnaw at you. Before he tipped your chin up, his eyes were dark but soft. "You are a rarity," he began, voice like silk. "Fascinating, infuriating. Bold enough to challenge me, reckless enough to walk into my study and ask the unthinkable. Do you know how long it has been since someone has surprised me?"

You swallowed hard, and he smiled. "That is why I call you angel," he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. "Because I look at you and I see heaven."

Your chest ached at the weight of his words. He had called you angel from the moment he agreed to this. He had looked at you with something unreadable, something reverent, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world.

Elijah was right; this was a lesson for you, but not the one either of you had expected. It wasn't about control, or restraint, or blood. It was a lesson in trust, in opening your heart, and it was the last thing either of you had thought to expect.

And as Elijah leaned down and kissed you again, his hands gentle and possessive and loving all at once, you knew it was the beginning of something wonderful.

[princesssarahblog]

escape from rafe - one shot - smut!

boyfriend!jj maybank x girlfriend!reader

when jj gives sarah the letter from "vlad", he runs into rafe again and he starts running away from cameron and ends up running into his gorgeous girlfriend

warnin: reader in dress! (imagine any dress you want), impatient!jj, pussy eating, overstim, language

author notes: I don't remember this episode and phrases a little, but it's not important here. only the scene between jj and the reader is important. have a nice reading!

jj winks at sarah as he hands her the letter from vlad and immediately starts to leave, but he is immediately grabbed and it was.. rafe. rafe fucking cameron. jj sometimes thinks that the rich kook has some kind of magnet for him, they run into each other too often lately and jj definitely doesn't like it

"having a good time?" rafe says with a grin, holding his hands on the blond's and looking down at him.

"yeah, it'll be even better without you," jj said through gritted teeth, smiling "cutely" and removing cameron's hands from his arms.

and then another chase began, jj ran wherever his eyes looked and even managed to drink a little alcohol. he ran so fast that he didn't notice how he crashed into someone, jj instinctively placed hands on into the arms of the human he had bumped into and slowly looked up, it was you.

and you looked simply stunning, in a beautiful dress that perfectly emphasized your body. the blond couldn't take his eyes off you. jj's hands squeezed your hands a little tighter but not so much that it bothered you, you felt his strong hands on your softer and neater girlish hands, whistling.

"wow..what a gorgeous kitty i almost knocked over" jj smirked pulling you towards him and slowly pressing his lips to yours pulling you into a passionate kiss. he noticed the open door and immediately pushed you into the room, it turned out to be just a closet

jj breaks the kiss, panting slightly as he presses his back against the closet door, sliding it shut with you still in his arms. his heart races, partly from the chase and partly from the electrifying kiss. he glances down at you, a mischievous smirk playing at his lips.

"jj don't even think about it, not here." you said, trying to be strict. It was all bad.. he wanted sex here and now. you was mad at your mom for listening to her and wearing that dress

jj ignores yours protests, his gaze locked on your stunning figure. he sets you down gently, then pulls you into another passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your curves as he tries to calm his racing heart.

"shh, just for a minute, okay?"

you struggles against the kiss, but jj's desperation and the adrenaline from the chase proves too much. you finds yourself melting into his embrace, your hands tangling in his hair as you returns the kiss. you knows you shouldn't, but jj always had a way of making you weak in the knees.

jj smirks against your lips, knowing he's getting exactly what he wanted. his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer.

"see? even when you're mad at me, you still can't resist me..."

he whispers huskily, his hands trailing down your sides.

he slowly lowers himself down, pushing up your dress to expose your thighs. he spreads your legs slightly, careful not to crease your dress. he looks up at you, making sure you're not pushing him away. jj knows you gets self-conscious about quickies, especially when you looks this good.

jj leans in, pressing soft kisses along your inner thigh, his hands gently caressing your skin. he looks up at you, his eyes filled with desire and affection.

"you look so fucking beautiful, baby.. I can't help myself around you. just let me taste you real quick, okay?"

you bites your lip, unable to resist jj's persuasive touches and words. you glances nervously towards the closet door, knowing anyone could walk in at any moment. yet the heat building between your legs overrides your logical concerns. you nods hesitantly, your fingers threading through jj's hair.

with your's permission, jj buries his face between your thighs, his tongue darting out to lick at your pussy through your lace panties. he sucks gently on the fabric, his fingers kneading your thighs as he tries to be quiet, not wanting to draw attention to their clandestine moment.

the sound of rafe and other kooks searching the house grows louder, their voices drifting closer to the closet. jj knows he needs to hurry if he wants to finish without getting caught. he hooks his fingers under the elastic of your's panties and pulls them to the side, revealing your glistening pussy.

his tongue darts out, finally tasting your properly. he focuses on her clit, circles it with deliberate precision while looking up at your face. even in the dim closet light, he can see your expression - eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, enjoying each careful lick. "shh.."

your's breath hitches as jj's skilled tongue finds your most sensitive spot. you bites your lip harder to stifle a moan, your hips shifting slightly to press yourself more firmly against his mouth. the risk of being caught only heightens your arousal.

"jj.. hurry.."

jj smirkingly obliges, knowing how much faster he can make your come when he focuses. his tongue thrusts inside you, then back up to swirl around your clit. he adds two fingers, pumping them in and out rapidly while his tongue continues its assault. he knows exactly what you likes.

your's breathing grows shallower, your body tensing as you gets closer to the edge. jj can feel your trembling above him, knows you're about to break. he wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face as he doubles his efforts.

with one final, intense lick, your's body seizes up, a silent scream of pleasure contorting your face as you comes hard against jj's mouth. he laps up your juices eagerly, his fingers still pumping inside you until you're fully spent. "fuck.. jj.." you whispers, your legs shaking.

jj gives your pussy one last, gentle kiss before straightening up and pulling your panties back into place. he stands, pressing a finger to his lips in a'shh' gesture before leaning in to whisper in your ear. "I think we're clear... for now."

"let me kiss you.." you whispers very quietly, hugging him around the neck with both hands and pulling him into a passionate kiss and feeling yourself on his lips. lots of juices and sperm. and all of it is yours.

you moans softly into jj's mouth, tasting yourself mixed with remnants of his sperm from earlier. you loves that your bodies are practically fused together this way - one kiss can taste like a mix of them both. you pulls back slightly to lick his jaw, collecting more of their combined fluids.

jj chuckles quietly, amused by your's enthusiasm for tasting you're both intimate mingling. he tilts his head, offering you're better access to clean his jaw with playful obedience. once you're satisfied, he captures your lips again, kissing your deeply, languidly.

your kiss becomes more intense, tongues entwining as they silently express their passion. the sound of rafe's voice fades - they've moved away from the closet. jj's hands slide down to grip your ass firmly, pressing their bodies together. "miss me already?"

"I miss you even when you're around.." you laughed at your own words, pressing your forehead to his, enjoying the moment. at least there were some quiet moments in the pogues lives.. and they both appreciated them

[yarnabee]

What kinks do you think the doctor would be into?

(I boldly ask as I sit in my bed kicking my feet like a schoolgirl whenever I see something about that guy)

OH ANON. i have a LOT to say about this. (me too anon i always twirl my hair and giggle like a schoolgirl whenever i think of him 😵‍💫) also: check end for a little note!

THE DOCTOR HEADCANNONS — THE THINGS THAT BRINGS HIM PLEASURE? (NSFW 18+)

tags/warnings; NSFW! MINORS DNI, gender neutral (pound town but with no mention of spesific genitalia! hell yeah!), dom! harley sawyer x sub! reader, impact play, degradation, predator/prey dynamics, dacryphilia, size difference (you know how tall his physical body is compared to the player? yeah.. 🙂‍↕️) rough and raw all day and all night long,

we all know how our dear doctor sees himself as some sort of god among men. he created something almost as perfect as life itself—someone with such intelligence and capabilities surely makes a difference than others of his own kind, no?

of course—such a narcissistic, apathetic, struck-up sociopath would need his ego to be constantly fed well. and sawyer has just the perfect prey to feed himself off.

what other source could he get it from if it weren't from you? you were his perfect little lab rat, his dearest prized trophy—someone he could easily break for his own satisfaction.

sawyer loves it when he gets to hunt for his prey. there's no victory sweeter than having you—a clueless, pathetic little rat—trapped in his so-called 'experiments', forcing you into oblivion as he watches your defenses slowly crumble before his eyes. oh, how he lives for the thrill of hunting—your figure cowering under his tall one, his grip on your neck tight enough to snap it in half. "shush now, little rat. you don't want to know what happens to noisy little rats, do you?"

it's also quite obvious how sawyer possesses some sort of sadistic trait: he finds it amusing to toy with those under his mercy. he loves hearing you plead, your cries growing desperate from his rough touches—hell, you don't even know what you were begging for in the first place. was it to make the pain stop? or is it because of the overwhelming pleasure? either way, sawyer feasts on the meek chants of his name as you beg him to be more gentle—your entire body twitching in bliss as he lends no mercy. he'd purposefully go faster, rougher than before—his hoarse chuckle echoing through the room with a following taunt, "lab rats don't get to decide what happens to them, do they? now keep me amused, little rat, i expect you to take it well."

his ego thrives the most when he finds you drooling over his mean, mocking words—oh, what a lovely sight it is to have your body tremble to such lowly words—he finds it amusing how you react so eagerly everytime he calls you worthless. the way his gentle voice coax his cruel words never fails to drive you insane, just enough to push you over to the edge. "look at you, pathetic little wretch. just a moment ago you were so confident, yet now.. nothing more than a worthless whore begging to repent, hm? " god, his voice will be the death of you.

sawyer loves pushing you to the brink of tears—there's something about seeing you in tears that.. satisfies him. he would purposefully rip his hand away from your aching core just as you were getting close to your high—earning him your needy gasp as your body trembles from the sudden loss of contact. oh, what a pretty sight it was to see you wail and sob underneath him, tears pooling on your lashline, soon making its way down to your cheeks. it almost had him.. pitying you. almost. sawyer would simply let out a chuckle, wrapping his fingers around your jaw tightly as he eyed the beautiful sight beneath him in awe. "now would you look at yourself, little rat.. you look like a pathetic, lost little puppy. it suits you very well."

oh, how your stomach dropped when you found out that your sobs and whimpers only pushes the doctor further to his edge—his actions completely unhinged as he uses you for his own pleasure. he'd slap your cheek across until it's burning red; leaving trail of bruises all over your body from his tight, clawing grasp; or gently grabbing a lock of your hair only to yank it roughly, holding your head in place as he carelessly uses you like a ragdoll. you'd scream, beg, wail, and sob—but those were the exact response he craves from you.

the size difference between you and sawyer pushes him further to the brink—realizing how he could easily snap you in half like a dried twig if he wanted to. i mean, his figure alone is almost as twice bigger than you are. god, how he loved seeing those delicate, trembling hands of yours reaching out to his arm for support as he presses your thighs against your chest into a mating press, pounding into you with no care as he constantly hits the deepest part of you, eyeing the bulge imprinted on your stomach—it makes you look like a little rat who dares to take more than what they can.

sawyer will make sure that everyone knows you belong to him. he wants everyone to see you as his little lab rat, his only to toy with and to use to his liking. he'll make it clear as daylight with the bruises all over your delicate skin, an impact from his rough claws—enough to even draw blood from it. he'll make sure to let everyone else know that it wouldn't end well if anything other than him dares to leave even the tiniest scratch on his dearest lab rat.

despite the roughness of his act, sawyer would never cross the line of breaking you apart. don't get him wrong though, the genuine act isn't simply out of the kindness of his heart—oh, that's even if he has any. he'll make sure to tend your wounds well, feed you with proper food, and make sure you get enough rest—all this just without the sympathy. all he knew is that broken toys are never fun to play with.

note; HEY GANG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONGER THAN IT SHOULD !! honestly this isn't my proudest work, i feel like i can do better but dang the writer's block and uni assignments fucked me up real bad ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 so i wanna say sorry in advance for this work :( but i do hope this can still bring a lil treat to the table 🍴

[lyricwritesprose]

I really didn't expect this thing to escalate to the point where Ms. Claiborne came to talk to Dad about it.

I also didn't expect Dad to instantly agree with me. "Drake is right. Naomi will be able to tell the class more, and catch their interest better."

"Sir…" A lot of people call Dad sir. He doesn't like it. He doesn't make a fuss about it, but he doesn't like it. "This would be a unique opportunity for Drake's class. I know that many of them look up to you, and many of them have questions—"

"I'm sure they have questions. The thing is—" Dad sighed. "It's not quite true that I never lie. But—rarely. Very rarely. I don't want to be put in a position where I have to lie to a class of eager tenth graders for fifteen minutes, and I certainly can't tell them the truth."

She blinks.

"I've been effectively the world's most famous first responder for—twenty years, I think, next September. I've gone through seven therapists in that time, not counting the ones who simply weren't a good fit." He pauses, an idea occurring to him. "Do you want to take a quick look at my art room? I'd prefer you not mention it to anyone else, but it might make my point."

"Hang on," I blurt out, "are you serious?"

"I am."

Ms. Claiborne wasn't going to turn the offer down, of course. I watched as she looked in. I watched as she saw the paintings and backed out, looking pale.

"My third therapist helped me figure it out. I can either paint the things I've seen, or dream them."

"Oh." It was very quiet.

"I don't want these kids to think that my job is a matter of flying around the world and being congratulated by grateful people. I also refuse to explain that I have seen an illegal human organ harvesting operation, and it wasn't even started by some colorful character with an evil laugh—just an ordinary man with a wife and three children. The best I could do is give a very, very heartfelt lecture on looking after your mental health, and how remembering even the tiniest good moments can get you through the worst of the bad—and they wouldn't be able to make anything of that without context." He locked the art room door quietly. "Meanwhile, Naomi can tell them about underwater archeology off the shores of Santorini. Which is frankly incredible."

Ms. Claiborne caved, of course. I mean, people usually do what Dad wants, he's been talking people around ever since he first went public.

I didn't put my oar in much. I've been kind of worried for a couple of months now. Ever since I started seeing into the ultraviolet. Because I'm not sure how much choice I'm going to have—I definitely am not going to choose not to help people—but at the same time, I really don't want to see the sorts of thinks that Dad paints.

Your dad is a superhero. He doesn't really have a secret identity. Everyone knows who he is, and what he does. Your mom is an Archeologist. Next week is your high school's career day, and you secretly think your mom's job is cooler. You want to invite her, but you don't want to hurt your dad.

[orionhelluvaranting]

Like creator, like character

Isn't that interesting how every bloody time someone tries to call Stolass' out this frigging owl finds a way to justify himself or shift the blame?

"I would feel bad if I hurt you but we both know I didn't do that!"

"Cheating implies there was a betrayal..."

"I don't look down on you!"

"I didn't leave you, I would never, that wasn't my choice!"

And do you know who does the exact same thing?

Vivziepop by herself! 🌟

"You disapprove me for sexualizing the rapist and preferring to sell merch with him rather than with his victim? C'mon, guys, Val isn't real! He's Karen from 'Mean Girls'! Fiction is an escape!.. You're just pissy your faves didn't get merch!"

"I liked the post calling my haters 'subhumans'? Well, people are just 'exhausted of being attacked for liking a show'. My fans harass critics? It sucks, but my fans are 'scared to talk about liking the show due to the harassment'. So you're no any better!"

"You've found a plothole XYZ, inconsistency in the story, lame jokes or any other flaws of my shows? No, my writing is smart and logical, bc I said so! Learn to read between the lines!"

"You think I have favoritism toward certain characters? No way! Stolass and Blitz are BOTH in the wrong, I'm gonna show this! Millie isn't ignored by the narrative, actually I'm so excited for you to know about her more! Loona doesn't speak a half of the season because... it was easier on the budget. HB has steered more towards a male-led stories. It's intended this way. You're just misunderstand my genius thought process."

"That's not my problem", "I care about SA victims," "Grow up!" etc.

And I'm not even talking about the justifying/problematic tweets she simply liked 💫

This woman always has an excuse. For everything. Just like Stolass does. Honestly I'd rather not speculate about Stolass being Viv's self-insert (as other critics said long before) but that kind of behavior only confirms such statements. It's like they both live by this quote:

Say whatever you want but for me this is the main proof that Stolass will NEVER take responsibility for his own actions. Because it's seems like Vivienne has no clue how to do this either. She doesn't think she could ever be wrong. So she uses the same mentality for Stolass since he's her beloved pet.

And which one of Viv's excuses is your personal favorite? Mine is "We didn't ask anyone to redesign these characters, it's a choice". Sounds like "They should've seen that coming! It's their own fault they're harassed! What did they even expect?" for me. Just fucking brilliant! 😤💢

PS/ I hasn't been monitoring Vivziepop closely enough all the time and maybe I don't see the whole picture, so please correct me if I'm wrong here but... I can't remember a single time this woman admitted her wrongness or apologized sincerely. Ever. I mean, if there's at least one case of Viv making amends or smth it would be nice, even if it prolly won't fix everything.

[meanbossart]

I'm not sure if it's been asked before but first of all your writing skills are just incredible🤌 After reading "A Novel Experience" it was like scratching an itch that I couldn't quite reach after years of reading burnout. In summary I was genuinely interested in how have you improved and developed your writing skills? Like honestly your writing is so addictive and captivating that (respectfully) there just has to be some kind of exposure to expression through literature, or perhaps you are just simply into reading. (That's a lot of yap and sorry if it's personal in a way or another. Also thank you for inspiring me and other people alike, you are a phenomenal artist 🙏)

Oh, thank you! I am beyond flattered and I truly appreciate that you enjoy my writing so much. To be honest I am actually very dissatisfied with my work for about half of A Novel Experience - when I started it, I had no audience, I just wrote and posted the first chapter as an epilogue for the game since the canonical ending felt pretty abrupt (we didn't have the official epilogue with the extended dialogue or Wither's party back then).

Then, I just felt like I had more to say, so I kept writing and by chapter 4-5 I had this huge story plotted out. I wrote a lot of those early chapters very quickly, and often while a little drunk, and considered them rough outlines rather than a finished work. When the story and my art began picking up traction I started to put more effort into my style and presentation, which is why chapters take a LOT longer to write nowadays - but I can confidently say that I am very proud of everything that came after The Compound.

I'm not really a reader, I'd be surprised if I read more than 30 books in my entire 28 years of life, and frankly I only started to enjoy fantasy very recently through admiring many of the fromsoft games from afar, and of course by finally playing Baldur's Gate 3.

One thing I will say is that the fictional books I've read that really stuck with me - and that I would consider to have influenced the way I write - have all had very unorthodox styles. Blindness by Jose Saramago is page after page of overwhelming walls of texts that read like a slowing-down clock or an agonizingly tight turning of screws; Blood Meridian is a nearly incoherent babble written by a man who outgrew the need or patience for commas or proper sentence separation, who knowingly disregarded grammar for the sake of feel. The Consumer is a collection of borderline pornographic and horrible, horrible stories where every character is abstracted into a wider social phenomenon, point of view is irrelevant and there is no line between narrative, dissertation, or poem.

Unlike the aforementioned works and their authors, I'm not talented (or crazy) enough as a writer to COMPLETELY forego construction and grammar, but I do feel perfectly confident in prioritizing feeling and flow over what is "correct" and experimenting with text in the same way I would on a drawing. I don't think any of this makes me good at it, but hopefully it makes it interesting or unique enough to stand out. It also means that, despite disliking those first few chapters, I don't really mind having them out there, since my purpose with them was to just have fun and try to capture "a vibe" rather than show myself off as some sort of wordsmith.

Well then, I've definitely outyapped you so we're even now. Hopefully this was interesting in the slightest!

[snowballseal]

My Dearest

Part 4

LaDS Zayne X Foreseer!Reader

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: You know you should stay away from Zayne. He represents everything you hate, yet defies every expectation you hold. His life brings warmth to your home, and since Fate is so noticeably silent, you find yourself slipping. Closer and closer and closer. Just who is this man? And why did he end up here?

Word Count: 3442 (it's a long one lol)

Note: sorry this took so long! I'm truly struggling with the pacing. I rewrote this part like three times. I don't want things to move too fast, but I also really don't want the story to drag. Let me know what you think! More backstory will be revealed in the next part so keep an eye out ;)

Warnings: there's a lot of religious speech and terminology at the end, and just a sprinkle of murderous intent from Reader, rightfully so (you'll understand)

---

For all your years, Fate has never been a fickle master. Unrelenting in her kindness or in her fury, but never wavering in between. You’ve witnessed every side she has to offer.

So when you wade into the depths of your magic, seeking answers, seeking anything to help ease the turmoil within your soul, only to find an empty room, a blank book, no hint of what’s to come, you feel almost swept under by the force of your own confusion.

For so long, you’ve devoted yourself to her work. You’ve done all you’ve been asked, revealed truths that society has so desperately hidden. You faced their wrath, you faced their scorn, you bare the scars of their anger. It has driven you to the brink of madness, yet you have always pressed on.

So why has she left you like this? Stumbling through a darkened room with nothing to guide you, no light to show where you are meant to go, even to see where you are stepping.

It is a cruel punishment, far crueler than you expected for saving a sole human life. But these are your consequences, and you must face them for defying the order of life. For simply choosing to follow your own desires. This is how she has decided to teach you a lesson, to make you regret that brief moment of disobedience.

Yet, as you watch Zayne recover, watch him grow in strength and learn more about his character, something deep in your frozen soul curls defiantly between your ribs, whispering so viciously that you were right right right.

Zayne is unlike any other human you have had the displeasure of meeting. He defies every expectation you may have. You expect him to be angry, to grow spiteful with his condition. The weakness brought on by his hypothermia. The limitations of a persistent limp. Like a wounded pup, he is trapped under your care, for which he should hate you.

However, where most men would respond by lashing out, threatening you, and cursing your home, Zayne faces his circumstances with an unthinkable…patience. Not a single complaint passes his lips, not a single moment of frustration, and he seems more than content to wander the endless halls of the Tower on his own, even though he must lean on the walls to support himself. He continues to carry himself with an elegant air of composure, treating the ancient building with nothing short of reverence.

He is a stoic man, you learn. More often than not, his face is drawn into a contemplative frown, always deep in thought, reflective. Yet his eyes cannot hide the depths of his emotions. The way they gleam with unbridled appreciation as he takes in the stained glass in the Tower’s chapel, how they soften with deep gratitude at every meal, and burn with such unabashed curiosity as he searches the tomes of your library.

He is just so undeniably alive. His sole presence fills your home with a new warmth, chasing away the biting cold you have grown so used to.

Watching him exist with such peace, such gentleness, you can’t help but stand in stubborn defiance against Fate.

You made the right choice.

Even if your instincts still bid you to keep your distance. You walk a perilous edge between caution and curiosity. To listen to your desires would draw you closer, would permit you to ask the boundless questions wavering on your lips. Though you’re sure Fate would rather you lock yourself away until he leaves, to build up your walls and allow things to go as they will.

But Fate is silent.

So you make the decision. No man would want to stay in this icy hell forever, so surely you can allow yourself a moment of reprieve, a moment to soak in the strange warmth of his life before he disappears, as they always do.

And who knows, perhaps if you learn more about him, you will find a reason to hate him like all the others. Every man has their sins, a darkness poisoning their soul. Once you discover that, it will certainly be easier to cast him away, to forget about his very existence.

Yes, certainly that will be for the best.

Even if it severs the remaining threads of hope you cling to.

Zayne notices the shift immediately.

After days of wandering the halls on his own, finding magnificent sculptures and walls and walls of fascinating books, but never catching even a glimpse of your robes, he could only assume you were avoiding him.

After a few days, he had resolved himself to the truth - that his time in this place is limited, and so he spends every waking hour memorizing the beauty of it, a beauty not unlike your own. Beyond time. Beyond human.

Given all of that, he can’t help but falter when he sets foot into the library. A familiar chill curls into the depths of his bones, the breath in his lungs stalling as his eyes land on your unexpected figure.

At first glance, one would simply assume you are a human of great beauty, but Zayne knows the truth. He can feel it, the power radiating from your form, even as you drape yourself so effortlessly in the armchair, an old leather tome perched intimately on your lap.

You truly are something otherworldly.

At first, he had seen you as the distant and ethereal demigoddess, the Foreseer with the power to act out Fate’s will in cold calculation, as he had been told. Then, when you allowed him to bow at your feet, he saw you as a vision of refined grace and broken faith, surrounded by insurmountable walls to keep him at bay, to protect yourself.

Yet here, you are something different again. Here, with your heavy adorning furs, surrounded by your single source of comfort, your fierce mask seems to slip away. The low candle light illuminates your face in a gentle manner, embracing the delicate curves of your features, accentuating the thoughtful draw of your lips. You are truly a vision of the goddess tethering herself to earth, hiding the power of your being behind the tender curves of a human form, allowing yourself to be soft, to be something so utterly breakable. 

And still, he is aware that you are in control. Over yourself, over the air around you, over the tower he stands in. You are in complete control, and you are allowing him to see you like this.

Something akin to wonder floods his chest.

Why would a divine being like you have such mercy on a man like him?

It is truly a baffling question, one that repeats like a nagging whisper in his mind every waking moment he spends walking through these halls. Along with several others, all questions that draw him deeper and deeper into the mystery of you.

Why have you sought out such solitude? Why have you kept your distance from him yet allowed him to stay? Why do you offer him even this meager amount of trust when you know nothing of what he has done?

Zayne has never coped well with unanswered questions.

“I must admit, I find it odd how you humans like to stare,” you murmur, not once looking up from your book of poems. You can practically feel his gaze burning across your skin, and you don’t need to look up to read the intensity behind such a gaze. “Is it truly striking of me to enjoy my own collection?”

Heat creeps up Zayne’s neck and he immediately tears his eyes away. Hearing your voice is just as startling as your sudden appearance. The cool edge of your tone sets his heart racing, a strange sort of anticipation curling in his chest.

Finally, he has the opportunity to learn more about you.

“My apologies, Foreseer,” he starts, voice surprisingly steady, “It would seem my manners have slipped in my time alone.”

“Hmm…” You bite back a rye smile. Always so ready to apologize. Truly a strange one, this man. “No need for apologies. I am simply here to read in silence, and given the interest you have shown in my collection, I assumed you may want to join me.”

An offer of proximity.

One Zayne does not hesitate to take. If you are willing to bear his presence, he is more than willing to spend hours in silence by your side. Talking is not the only way to learn about someone.

You watch keenly from the corner of your eye as the man shuffles over to your bookcases, still favoring his right knee. A splinter of concern wedges itself between your ribs, small yet exceedingly uncomfortable. It must be causing him a great deal of pain with all his walking. 

Did he have this before? Or did he injure himself on his journey? Why does he insist on walking on it if it causes him such pain? 

So many questions.

You attempt to dismiss them for now, along with your concerns as  Zayne sits down in a smaller chair across the room, an old medical journal in his hands. One he has been eyeing the past few days - you note. He must have an interest in medicine, another unexpected discovery.

All of those questions stubbornly stick to the tip of your tongue, buzzing but unspoken.

Thus begins a tentative pattern of relative peace. The mornings are spent apart, aside from when you bring him his morning meal and an herbal medicine you created, which you leave while he sleeps. In the afternoons, you both find yourselves in the library, reading in silence most days. At first, he sits across the room from you, keeping his distance as you originally requested.

As the days pass, though, you find him drawing closer. As if pulled in by an invisible force. Or as though you are some wild animal, and he wishes to acclimate you to his presence.

It is more than a little entertaining. Even with his overwhelming level of patience, he can’t help but reveal his hand so openly. All humans want something, and for some reason, Zayne wants to be close to you.

While you may not understand it, you can’t deny that you feel the same pull. Perhaps that is why you feel your already weak defenses lowering all together as time passes so languidly. You find yourself more at ease while sharing the room with him, as though his constant, soothing presence is a balm for your nerves, a lullaby that calms the cautious beast locked behind your ribs. Day by day, you feel more confident in your poor decision to save this man’s life.

Enough that you find yourself pushing the boundaries more than you should. It occurs when you notice him wince, none-too-subtle, as he lowers himself into his chair, now mere feet from you.

You break the silence.

“Most would call you unwise for walking on an injured leg,” you hum, keeping your focus on the flowing poems in front of you, “Though I assume you are aware given that you seem to have extensive knowledge of human medicine. Not many can read the dialect of those tomes.”

Zayne blinks, eyes tearing away from his book to look at you. Sharing the silence with you had become so natural, so comforting. Being in your presence is a blessing he doesn’t deserve, and he never once thought of pushing your boundaries to start a conversation, even though his lungs ache with the questions he wanted to ask. So having you address him, acknowledge him, feels like a breath of fresh air.

“It is an old injury, from before my journey,” he answers, voice a bit raspy from lack of use. You tilt your head towards him minutely though, obviously not displeased, so he continues, “And you would be correct. I have studied medicine quite extensively, my lady.”

You falter, eyes locking on the words on the page, but not reading them.

My lady.

A new title. One you have never been called before. And you have been called many things.

As if by instinct, or perhaps from practice after spending so many hours trying to memorize the subtle changes in your expressions as you read, Zayne notices the tension between your brows. And realization dawns on him.

“My apologies, Foreseer,” he sighs, frustration washing over him, at him. What a careless slip. “I will refrain-”

“No,” you cut him off, still not looking up, “I will…permit it. For now, you may address me as you please, Zayne.”

Your nose wrinkles ever so slightly as your own realization washes over you. It’s almost unsettling how soft you’ve become in such a short time. How unbecoming for a demigoddess.

Yet, when you chance a glance up, you can’t find it in yourself to regret your words, not with how Zayne’s usually stoic expression gives way to surprise, followed by a kindled warmth. He’s pleased. Too pleased. 

“Thank you, my lady.”

And you hate that you feel just as pleased hearing him say it again, his voice curling around the title with such devotion, as if he reveres you so.

This whole endeavor was meant to reveal his faults, not give you deeper reason to care. You mustn’t get lost in human emotions, lest they tear you apart again, just as they did in your past. Caring too much causes nothing but pain.

Still.

“Does this old injury bother you often?”

You are more than capable of satiating your interest while keeping your distance, aren’t you? .

Zayne gives a rueful smile, one that makes you turn around and question yourself, “The cold makes one’s joints more sensitive which can lead to mild irritation of old injuries. It may worsen my limp for a time, though I assure you it appears more painful than it feels, my lady.”

A part of you wishes to deny such concerns, but you would rather not lie again.

“Why did you not seek medical attention?” You press instead, brows furrowing, “Did you not have a mentor in your studies? Could they not have treated you?”

The air in the library falls suddenly still. Zayne shifts, his jaw clenching as he looks back down at his current book, fingers fussing idly with the pages. A nervous habit. He’s uncomfortable talking about this for some reason, which makes you want to press further, though you restrain yourself.

When he does speak, his voice is impassive, as if mentioning the weather outside, “I was not permitted to have my injuries treated.”

Not permitted? A frown mars the gentle curve of your lips. Are humans truly so cruel to each other? You have experienced their cruelty yourself, of course, but you had thought they might treat their own kind with greater care. To force a man to exist with such pain for the remainder of his life? It is nothing short of vulgar.

A bitter kind of disgust festers on your tongue. If you were to meet such humans, you fear you might tear them apart with just as much cruelty and throw their flesh to the snowy beasts of the mountains.

“Who would deny you such simple care?”

“That is of little importance, my lady,” Zayne dismisses with that same rueful smile, “I do not wish to burden you with my troubles. My injuries are merely a…reminder.”

His assurance does little to ease the glimmer of rage behind your expression. And Zayne can’t tear his eyes away. He has witnessed such fury before, has been at the mercy of human wrath, but yours burns with the force of the world, violence bridled by righteous judgement, as though you wish to punish those who have done this to him.

You are truly a goddess. Untouchable in your grace and unyielding in your abhorrence. You do not disguise your emotions behind fragile politeness, and instead control each and every feeling like a tool, a weapon. The world would fall at your knees if you so wished it to.

It leaves him with a trembling urge to kneel at your feet once more. Though that would likely make you uncomfortable, so he remains settled in his seat, admiring from a distance.

You let out a slow breath, reigning in your anger with practiced ease. If he does not feel contempt for his past, then it is not your place to hold on to it. Instead, you choose to press a little further.

  “Then I have another question, I suppose. Did you travel here seeking refuge from your kind?”

“Perhaps.” He worries one of the journal’s pages between his thumb and middle finger, letting the texture soothe his mind. “I had little choice in the matter, as I could not live in the kingdom any longer. In honesty, I hardly believed that the Tower of Thorns existed at the time. It sounded like a mere legend. As did you, my lady.”

You huff out a low sound, something between a laugh and a scoff, “I wish more believed I was a mere myth, then perhaps I could finally escape from your kind.”

Zayne’s brow furrows. This is the first thing you’ve shared of yourself. He studies the slight tinge of exhaustion in your features, as if a sudden weight has been draped over your shoulders. It is not lost on him, the standard you must hold yourself to as the Emissary of Fate, how harsh you have to be to protect yourself against his kind. It must feel…suffocating.

“You do not like humans.”

It’s not a question. Merely a conclusion in no need of a direct answer.

Still, you give one.

“No, I do not,” you hum matter-of-factly, leaning back into your chair. “Do you not feel the same after all they have done to you? Maiming you and chasing you from your home?”

“I-” Zayne falters, jaw clenching again. He should, he wants to, but, “I do not know, my lady.”

A beat of silence passes between you and it is as though you can read his conflicting desires.

“Then I shall hate them for you.”

Zayne inhales sharply. It is a solemn oath, as though you wish to take the weight of such a decision from him, as if you are not already carrying enough.

“My lady, the sins I have committed-”

“Are of little importance to me,” you murmur easily, almost startling yourself with how true the words are. “All humans have their sins. Those who fail to repent will suffer at Fate’s hands, and it is my destiny to warn them despite how I detest them. If you believe your sins to be so great, then I suppose I must warn you too.” Your eyes linger on him, somber and ancient, like that of an old painting. “Find a way to atone and move forward. I have chosen to give you a second life, and I will be sorely disappointed if you waste it. Do you understand?”

Swallowing around the thick lump in his throat, Zayne nods, “Yes, Foreseer. I hope my answers today have not displeased you.”

The faintest hint of a smile pulls at your lips, a glint of amusement softening your gaze, “They have not. I have actually somewhat enjoyed this conversation. While vague, your answers have offered me insight. For now, you have my interest.” You stand, straightening out your robes as you do. You brush the nonexistent dirt from the fabric. “You may initiate conversation in the future, if you wish, though I make no promise that I will engage. For tonight, however, I will be retiring to the main hall.”

You need time. Time to think. Time to reflect on your words, his words, all of it. Away from the devout attention he offers you, that seems to blur the lines of your rational thought.

Though, just like always, you waver in the door frame as you attempt to leave, something causing you pause.

Until the words pass your lips, “Have a good evening, Zayne.”

Yes, perhaps you cannot keep your distance, as you already seem to care too much. Perhaps this is destined to end in catastrophe and his sins will prove too gruesome for you to excuse. Perhaps you will have to seek your own atonement when it is all said and done.

But for tonight, you will relish in the shock-turned-wonder in Zayne’s eyes when he notices the intricately woven staff that appears with a flurry of magic light as you leave. In this, you find no regret.

For tonight, you will merely take it one step at a time.

Fate’s consequences be damned.

---

I hope this wasn't too wordy - I got a bit carried away at parts, and I couldn't bring myself to simplify any of it. I also worry there is too much back and forth in Reader's thoughts/emotions. Anyways, let me know what you guys think so far, and maybe what kind of scenes you'd like to see!

Tag List: @pirana10 @antivanblessing @animecrazy76 @xx-riffraff-xx

[provendermalkin]

conservatives: because guns are just tools, they should always be abundantly available with few or no restrictions of any kind concerning their procurement or use. some people using guns wrongly doesn't justify amending laws or even talking about it

also conservatives: my own parents divorcing messily means all parents everywhere should be forced to remain together no matter how bad it gets or what happens to them or their children by remaining with someone violent/dangerous/addicted/abusive. since my parents used the tool of divorce wrong, nobody should ever be allowed to. divorce is simply too dangerous a tool to trust anyone with

like can you guys at least be consistent about what you believe re: tools and whether they're evil or just misused

bonus content, let's really unpack what "divorce is evil" means in practice rather than as a slogan:

"no exceptions" conservatives: I don't believe in any exceptions, there is no such thing as marital rape or abuse and even if there was it should be either tolerated or celebrated; after all, women physically belong to their husbands and MUST wordlessly, joyfully submit no matter how violent and immoral he is, to atone for the sin of being born that way. If he wants to rape or beat her to death, that's his right before God, she probably even deserved it. Men who are battered by their wives are pussy-whipped cowards who should be mocked and suicide baited. And men who are raped "probably had a great time heh heh heh". Oh, only if it's straight rape from their wife or another woman, though, if you get raped by a f*ggot you should just kill yourself. Statistically I'm christian and I think Jesus would probably be pleased with this behavior

"limited divorce" conservatives: even if I do believe in "some" divorce, I think they should have to prove it to a criminal-court standard ("beyond the shadow of a doubt") by documenting their own abuse in the middle of it and somehow hiding and then successfully smuggling away the evidence in an era where you can gps track another human being. This doesn't strike me as cruel and unreasonable at all.

"limited divorce" conservatives part 2: If I believe in marital rape-- and most conservatives who make exceptions for abuse still don't-- then I think married women and men who have been raped by their spouse should have to rush as fast as possible immediately after the act to have a cop scrape their partner's semen/fluids out/off of their bodies while they're in a vulnerable state. The officers involved are statistically likely to mock them or discard the rape test afterwards but that just discourages liars, when a real victim gets raped again they can just come back, what's a few more, let's not be hasty to break up a sacred union over one rape after all! Then, after all that, they should beg their case to a stranger who has the right to decide whether or not they're allowed to run away. If the judge is a buddy of the defendant or the plaintiff just isn't very good at talking or the judge hurts their own wife/husband and likes that kind of thing or the plaintiff is too afraid to speak up and the defendant wins the case... then oh well, that's good actually, they should just "work it out" (aka one partner is violated or harmed until they become incapable of resisting and the "problems stop" because they suffocate their own soul. jesus would also want this probably). The fact that a failed attempt to obtain a divorce against someone who IS abusive will guarantee the retaliatory torture, rape or even murder of a person is an acceptable risk to make sure the illusion of harmony is maintained.

You can have no-fault divorce, or you can have that. There is no way to require "proof" or a "good enough" reason to get away from another human being that will not leave many, many people to slip through the cracks. If you place the burden of criminal proof on the victim to obtain, compile and provide, and they are entirely responsible for saving themselves, and even then no matter what they do-- even if they bring multiple videos of their partner violently raping or beating them on camera, this happens literally every single day in courts around the world-- strangers can still say "yes, they did that to you, but that shouldn't count and you are legally required to continue suffering through this for the rest of your life" then, well, you get what we USED to have: murder and suicide. If you give someone no other avenue to escape their pain, that's all that remains.

As nicely as I possibly can: If you don't believe any of that horrifying shit then it sounds like your problem is with the way your parents, specifically, used the tool of divorce. In that case, your parents choosing to behave that way is why you ended up so hurt. Do you honestly think you would have been happier and safer if the people you are describing were forced to spend the rest of their lives together, or that "knowing divorce exists" is why they were fighting? Or do you think maybe they would have been unwell and harmful no matter where they lived or what excuse they used, and you just wish you hadn't been hurt so bad, and this is the most accessible solution you can think of to a massive, awful problem that you shouldn't have had to face alone?

i love divorce i love when people realize that they aren't a good fit for each other and get divorced about it. more people should get divorced

[meinkatzchen]

Hello I was just wondering if you make a fanfic of, tpof fox x mc x mist please and also I love your character. She looks very gorgeous.

Thank you so much!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

Writing fan fiction is a talent that I, unfortunately, lack- But I like the idea of ​​the Fox/MC/Mist story, and I would focus not so much on the porn part, but on everyday life and black comedy. Let's say MC had 2 main problems: to survive and, preferably, to return home more or less intact (let's say that either Fox or Mist can give them both opportunities. But MC don't know who exactly can give them these opportunities) Fox's problem would be Mist's desire to somehow dominate and conduct some kind of activity hidden him and he feels that he does not control this sphere of her activity (and he cannot directly corner her, because he would like to put a spoke in her wheel secretly.) Mist's problem would be to conduct an activity parallel to the cult (if this is an AU where her cult still exists) and the cycle of slavery business and find out what other things Fox is up to, so as not to cross paths with him by accident. I described this in general, without details, so that their (example) conflicts would be clearer.

And so, the MC would be between a rock and a hard place, in constant stress and in a constant rush, because they would have to maintain a perfect balance to keep the master and mistress happy. Because when they are calm and happy, they don't take it out on the MC and there is a higher chance that they will be let go (Honestly, I don't think the ending would be happy). In general, the MC would have to spy on two fronts, tell the truth and lie, pay enough attention to both of them, accept torture for MC's own mistakes and for Fox and Mist's bad mood, reconcile them, take part in their mating games (if you were expecting this from me, then yes, here it is х) ).

I just really wouldn't like to describe the MC as just a placeholder for sadistic games. Even if everything turns out that MC literally become a "family psychologist" with their advice and their sincere desire to survive, it is already much more interesting and comical than if they were simply used in a threesome.

[frostedclock-writes]

hello I'm the one that asked about the Alastor pov! super excited for it ehehe

While reading the latest chapter I was imagining how Alastor could've felt when seeing reader with hanahaki and how he could've felt when she finally told him and the angst in my head was yummy which is why I asked lmao

in my head, Alastor would be ready to kill whoever hurt the reader via hanahaki (+be hella jealous) only to realize, oops, he's the cause of it

Alastor definitely felt a multitude of feelings in that moment.

Here a special treat anon ♥️

Wrote this real quick (flip side of the last chapter)

---

Alastor stopped the elevator, a simple bit of his magic caused the old elevator to stop in its tracks. She wasn't going to slip away so easily. He slipped through the shadows to the small confined space. His left hoof sank into what at first felt like a wet ripped up sack, but the scent was unmistakable. Blood and magnolia blossoms. Sickly sweet to his nose.

His ears twitched. His smile deepened into a stretched grimace as he pulled his hoof up from the mess with a squish kind of sound.

" How unsightly. "

His eyes moved to his target. Y/N.

A small image of her hugging onto Vox's arm cross his thoughts and his nails dug into his palms. He kept his poise, though. He moved away from the puddle and his eyes were trained on her. The woman who has been at his side for so long, his drinking buddy, perpetual dance partner, faithful friend. Someone who waited for him for so long. And then didn't even question where or what he had been doing other then simply stating how she had worried for his safety. Someone like him. Who has countless times used that faithfulness to his own gain.

" You think you can just slip away like that?" Alastor kept his tone as even as he could. His eyes darted to the mess in the floor.

How long had this been going on?

" and now I can see why you haven't been feeling yourself. "

Had she been like this since she arrived? This affliction happened to those in hell who held feelings for one and wouldn't speak them. Was there someone in life that she had held dear and he didn't notice? Or perhaps she developed it in hell. Vox perhaps? Or someone else. Y/N often had been seen at Husker's bar.

" It's nothing." She spoke with such weight in her voice.

A spike in anger hit Alastor like a ton of bricks. She was hurting herself over someone and hadn't even shared it with him! She shared everything with him. Or so he thought.

" Nothing?!"

He moved without much thought. Anger and the instinct to close the space brought him towering over her. She didn't falter. She never seemed frightened of him, even when his temper flared like this.

"Do you even really care? Did you ever care? About me?"

How could she even say that?

He never cared for many people. But she was one exception beyond one woman Alastor knew he wouldn't ever see again. He sat up and looked down at her. Was he missing something?

" What?"

She was crying. No, he liked the smile she usually saved special for him. He felt his own smile twitch. " Or was i just some fun thing to have around? Or did you just like the idea of having someone around that would do anything for you?"

No not just that. More than that.

" Cher..."

"No. Don't... Cher me, Alastor. " She spoke so broken.

" Y/N..." Alastor's couldn't believe this is how she had been feeling, he stopped her from rubbing again on her already reddened cheeks. " How could you ask me that? I care a great deal about you. " He held her trembling hand, cold and soft. Small almost.

" But not in the way that I want you too. " Her hand slipped from his.

He realized in that moment. Alastor placed his hand on her cheek, cold and wet from her tears. He ran his thumb across the track, erasing it. He didn't like the sight of it at all. He enjoyed the sparkle in her eye when he told her a silly joke or when the two of them danced the night away. He took a small breath and he looked into those tear riddled eyes.

He had been hurting her. Without meaning to. Or realizing. She had been keeping him in the dark for decades. Hurting in silence for the sake of him.

" Y/N.... You fancied me?"

[suiana]

hi hi hii!! I saw your requests are open so may I pleade request for more yandere classmate oneshots/fics/headcanons anything that is a yandere classmate content cause I really love your writing and those yandere classmates hcs/oneshots you wrote♡♡!! if you need me to be more specific here's a suggestion/scenario:3...(that's a bit too specific if you don't mind hehe)

Yandere classmate transfer to reader's school and class. Yandere meets reader and boomshakalala typical yandere scenario where he falls inlove with reader. Yandere finds out that reader is getting backstabbed and bullied by their classmates. Reader is an extrovert and silly but like can't do anything about the bullying so they just ignore their classmates comment. Reader can be gender neutral or fem, whatever feels more comfty for u to write:>>! yan is a male!

Also, if you're in a writer's block, u don't have to force yourself! Also jst ignore this if u don't feel comfty writing this. Take of yourself and sorry if this is a bit too specific or demanding !

xoxo - Anon

hey anon! you just pulled me out of my writers drought so please have this for valentines

Yandere! classmate who's the new kid and is trying to fit in. Right, the average new kid experience. You're not popular, not a loner, just somewhere in between and trying to get by with all the horrors school can throw at you. No one has enough time to bother with others when they have to focus on themselves.

But there is.

You know how there are some people who peaked in highschool that take out their sadness on others? Yeah, that's right. Those people. And he just so happened to walk into one of these sessions.

Some grown ass man pouring milk over- oh, it's you.

Yeah just like how there's the losers who peaked in highschool, there are the popular kids who remain popular throughout their life. Aka you. And he's fallen for you hard.

It all began one fateful day... When he bumped into you while running on 2 hours of sleep and simply passed out because of the force at which he walked right at you. That's right. He fainted from walking into you.

Anyway, when he woke up, he found out that you had dragged him to the nurse's office and had stayed right by his side until he woke up.

How fucking cute.

He was definitely attracted to you. That was for sure, he still could feel it even when he was still woozy. I mean, you were his type from head to toe! Physically at least.

But now you're telling him you stayed by his side and waited patiently by his side until he woke up? You've got him hooked. So he gave you his number, got you to be his friend, and everything else fell in place.

He started noticing you around campus, talking to everyone and socializing like a freaking butterfly. Figures. You were clearly an extrovert and loved being just an absolute sweetheart. Sweet and kind to everyone around you. He would give you the world if you asked for it.

Then, he started noticing the bullying. The whispers, backhanded compliments... Just everything about it enraged him. It's bad enough that people are being mean, it's even worse that they're called your friends. How could they do such a thing to you? You were a blessing to be around! These people should be grateful that you even wanted to befriend them! Hell, they should be grovelling and begging on their knees for even as much as thinking wrong of you!

The worst part of it all?

You don't retaliate. Or rather, you can't. These "friends" of yours are all kids of rich and powerful people. And you? You're just poor old you, unable to talk back in fear of them ruining your reputation and maybe even worse. They could have you removed from the school, falsely accused of a crime... They're scum of the earth and they know it.

He hates them.

He hates them.

That's why he's taken it upon himself to get rid of them! No problem if he isn't as powerful or rich as these... "friends" of yours... Who can fight back when they're dead after all? The dead don't speak, they can't. They're the best type of sinners, people who've dared to lay their filthy hands and words on your beautiful soul.

Of course... He doesn't let you know that. You're too kind for this world. You'd freak out and have a panic attack if he told such a thing to you! You wouldn't understand. He wouldn't want to scare you anyway. You think of him as just another tired student that's your really nice friend. So he's kept all this hidden away.

But right now? When he's faced with this? Milk? On you? While you're just... Forced to take it all?

How can he not act out?

"You think this is funny?"

His hands are on that losers neck in a second, depriving him of any oxygen possible. Damn you, damn you, damn you. This waste of space should just die now. He was even laughing when he was pouring the fucking milk over your head? Unacceptable.

Simply unacceptable.

"You're a fucking loser."

"You smell like piss and shit, did you piss yourself?"

"Not so much of a big guy now, huh?"

This guy's body is larger than him, muscle and veiny all over. Yet... His body was slowly losing... to him? An average joe?

Then he hears it. Your voice.

He gets pulled out of his rage by your voice. Oh... Your sweet, sweet voice. It's like an angel's touch, the warmth of spring after a cold winter. Usually it would be comforting to him, make his heart soar and face warm. Right now though? it's sending nothing but dread through him. Shit, he's exposed himself.

"Uh... Fuck, I didn't mean to-"

He's stammering, bumbling on his words like a fool. No, god no, he's messed up now. You'll surely hate him and think he's a violent creep. You'll never want to talk to him again and-

-You reached out to him and mutter a thanks? For standing up for you? With that smile and gentle hands? What was that? Did you just ask him to release the guy and go on a walk? Was that a date? He hopes it's a date. Ah, it's on valentine's too. Do you like him? Is this a sign? He's not overthinking it right?

...

Ah.

He's so cooked.

[mj-iza-writer]

Request: Whumpee who was held captive by whumper finally escapes. However, they return to whumper as they realize they'd rather suffer at the hands of someone who sees them as important/sees potential in them rather than return to a place where nobody cares if they live or die

It's okay if you can't do this one!

Whumpee shivered from behind the dumpster.

They had not noticed the big puddle on the street in front of them. A big truck found it though.

Whumpee was soaked. The sun was going down now. They were in for a long night.

"This is not what I had planned", Whumpee mumbled, "escape.... get to your family, they'll help you. You will heal. Everything will be better. It may not have been the same as before, but better."

Whumpee sighed as their teeth began to chatter, "maybe Whumper will... no, I'm not.. I can't. They have hurt me so much... why would I go back to them?"

Whumpee heard someone whistling just then. It sounded familiar.

"Whumper?", Whumpee whispered as someone walked past. It was Whumper, in the flesh. Whistling the same tune they did while punishing Whumpee for their short comings.

Whumpee quietly thought. They took in everything that had happened since they escaped.

Whumpee sighed and crawled out from behind the dumpster. They stared down the street and saw Whumper was still in view.

"Whumper?", Whumpee called weakly.

Whumper turned just in time to see another large truck drive through the puddle and splash Whumpee.

Whumpee looked up in the direction of Whumper, then fell to their knees in defeat.

Whumper covered their mouth to muffle a laugh.

Whumpee already knew. One thing about Whumper is they were easily amused by misery. Especially Whumpee's misery.

Whumper smirked as they walked back to where Whumpee knelt.

"Did you have something to say?", Whumper smuggly leaned down.

"I-I'm sorry... please have mercy", Whumpee shook, "I-I'll do whatever you say. Please", Whumpee pleaded.

"Please what?", Whumper patted Whumpee's damp hair, "I don't understand what you want from me."

Whumpee made a side eyed glance, "please not out here", they mumbled.

"I simply want to know what my slave wants from me. Money for food, dry clothes... What amazes me is my slave had all of those things at home a while ago", Whumper sighed, "I didn't know my slave was treated so poorly. I suppose I learned that you can give everything needed to someone and they still won't appreciate your kindness."

Whumpee sighed in frustration.

"Maybe I'll leave you here. Kind of fitting for a rat to live on the streets. Maybe a few more weeks will do you good", Whumper turned.

"No, please don't leave me here", Whumpee fell forward and grabbed at Whumper's feet, "I-I want to come back with you... please... let me come back."

"What makes you think I want you back?", Whumper scolded.

Whumpee paused, "I-I don't know", they looked at the cement, "I promise I'll be good. I'll do all that you ask of me. Please allow me to come back to your home."

"I know what your plan was. Escape, find your family. If only you had asked, I would have happily told you that your family moved away about a year ago after your trail went cold. I would have enjoyed that reaction you just gave me even better sitting in my chair at home. If you were smart, you should have run for the police station."

Whumpee kept their eyes lowered.

"But you're stupid. An absolute fool", Whumper turned, "come along if you are still willing to come home with me."

Whumper took a few steps forward and turned.

"Or crawl back into your hole... you good for nothing rat", Whumper hissed.

If Whumpee were smart they would have crawled back behind the dumpster. They would have either survived the night and searched for the police like Whumper had said. If they had been luckier, maybe they would have died there.

Whumpee followed Whumper inside.

"Strip off those old clothes and shower", Whumper sighed, "you smell like the streets. After that throw your old clothes away. You've lost clothing privileges. Maybe that will keep your butt inside."

"N-no clothes... Master?", Whumpee frowned.

"Did I stutter?", Whumper turned, "why would my slave need clothes anyway? You're not supposed to go outside. I've already seen your unsightly body plenty of times. Maybe I'll add some more marks on your backside tonight to make you look better."

Whumpee shuddered.

"Shower.... now. Leave your clothes outside the door. I'll take the pleasure of throwing them away."

Whumpee weakly nodded.

Whumpee knelt in front of Whumper once their shower was done.

Whumper sighed at the sight of their slave.

"I suppose you're hungry too", Whumper hissed.

"A little master.... I'm okay... honest", Whumpee whispered.

Whumper looked them over, "when did you last eat?"

"Y-yesterday", Whumpee looked down shamefully, "I had watched someone throw a partially eaten sandwich away. I uhm.... I ate... uhm that."

Whumper turned their nose up at them.

"I-I was desperate", Whumpee whispered as they shrunk back even more.

"Go make yourself some dinner. I hope you still know your way around my kitchen. Your duties start tomorrow. Am I clear", Whumper  leaned back, "if one thing is left incorrect... you will be punished if you do not perform satisfactorily. I will not forget your trespass of running away unless you prove your worth to me. Any punishment you receive will include that. So you had better, for your sake, be on your best behavior."

Whumpee quickly nodded.

"Dismissed", Whumper frowned.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of list. It's not a problem at all.

@weirdthingweee @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

@decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@jumpywhumpywriter @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @thenormalestever

@whatwhumpcomments @galatic-worm

@starmoon-constellation @bacillusinfection

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

When it comes to miraculous and how the holders get chosen to be heroes, I just don't really like it. It's literally "hey kid. Here's a magical jewelry that makes you into a hero for this time. Why you? Because you happened to be the closest and I may or may not be friends with you in my civilian form."

Since Miraculous Ladybug is suppose to be influenced by magical girl shows, why not make it so the holders need to show themselves worthy of the gods (kwamis) and they become the new chosen one. Making it more special and less "you're a hero now, but we can simply use your miraculous ourselves or give it to someone else if you're not available, but it's still yours." Like, really? One magical girl franchise I like the getting chosen trope in is Precure. There the girls show themselves worthy to become a precure and their transformation item actually gets linked with their souls, so only them can use them.

That would have been a better way in miraculous, the heroes actually getting chosen by a higher force and are the only ones able to use the miraculous. And with the butterfly, like I suggested previously. Make it different from a miraculous, or have an evil force choose Gabe because of his sorrow over losing Emelie.

In other words, Miraculous Ladybug should take inspiration from precure and other magical girl shows when it comes to being chosen to become a hero.

I will give canon a little grace for how Marinette and Adrien got their miraculous. While I fully agree that it feels too easy, Origins only had ~45 minutes to do everything it needed to do. In that context, speed running the miraculous acquisition make sense. I would have personally implied that Fu already had Marinette and Adrien in mind somehow, but I can forgive canon for not doing that and just add it in as a somewhat forced headcanon. Fu goes on to be Adrien's backup Mandarin tutor, after all. Maybe he'd done that before or maybe Adrien's usual tutor is Fu's informant about potential candidates since they clearly have a relationship of some kind. Either way, It's an easy enough fix and there are plenty of ways Fu could have met Marinette pre-canon.

I'm way more judgmental of the way the temp heroes were chosen. The show had seasons to set up these characters as the perfect choices for their various miraculous and yet most of it feels incredibly last minute. Rose is about the only character who feels like she was perfectly setup for her miraculous. Everyone else feels interchangeable. Outside of Anansi, I don't think that Nino ever acts like a protector. And Alya's tendency to jump to conclusions has been shown as a bad thing, not a strength, making her a questionable choice for Illusion. If that was always the plan, then she should have been shown to come up with logical, good-quality stories and not stories like, "Chloe has a spotted yo-yo so she's obviously Ladybug even though that makes zero sense for her character."

I also fully agree that the kwamis should be the ones who make the call. The guardian is just there to protect the miraculous and pick potential holders that are then presented to the kwamis who make the final yes or no choice. But then, there are a lot of elements of the kwamis writing that bother me. Canon basically presents them as slaves who have to do whatever they're told. They just have to hope that their current master is a good one. I get why the choice was made - they needed to explain why Nooroo couldn't escape - but I personally come up with other ways to explain that element while keeping the other kwamis free when I'm doing anything lore heavy. The only way I'd keep the slavery aspect is if I was actually going to address it in the story as I'm personally of the opinion that slaves should only be introduced if you plan to free them especially in the context of children's shows. (Yes, they're fine in historical settings and dark settings and probably a few others, too. Don't be pedantic.)