#caged up isn’t really a pleasant way to go

[nanowatzophina]

Some doodles from my current replay of Rosal’s pt.

[iambilliejeanok]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!! “sleeping with” WITH BUDDHA IM BEGGING YOU I WANT TO CUDDLE WITH HIM AND DO THE NASTY AND CUDDLE MORE 😫😫😫😫😫

Warnings: 18+, overstimulation, dacryphillia, smut, nsfw and saw headcanons, (The Buddha mentioned is a character from the anime Record of Ragnarok and doesn’t depict the true nature of the real god Buddha. It’s fiction), fluff.

SFW

Maybe its because of his overwhelming love for humans and the fact that he was one too, Buddha needs all the cuddles all time. He loves love and genuinely enjoys the feeling of something in his arms, whether it be a human, an animal, or maybe even a stuffed animal. Yes, Buddha has a stuffy collection for his alone times indeed. That being said, if whatever he’s cuddling could wrap themselves around him and cuddle him back? He melts right then and there. It might even be better than eating candy under the pleasant shade of a tree in the Valhalla.

Buddha will most certainly not see sleep without being able to rest in your arms. He’s as clingy as a koala with how often he needs to feel you around him and most likely cuddles you all day. There’s never been a day hot enough to dampen his desire to be on you. “No baby, don’t you think its too hot?”, you try to reason, hoping he would be understanding enough to let this go just one time. “Why worry, the AC is running so you’ll need me anyway you dig?”, he says, gently taking your hand in his and pulling you into his chest, “Come now, let me pick you up angel”. And picking you up is something he does often, you see being a god, nothing is impossible and lifting you up to carry you from any position isn’t any problem at all. You don’t even need to jump. Sometimes, he will gently scoop you up with a single arm, desperately needing for you to constantly hug and kiss his face while you sit on his arm and lean against him, snuggling him while he prepares some snack bowels for the two of you.

He’s a big fan of sharing his candy with you, opening every single wrapper and feeding you whichever piece you desire. His hand is almost as big as your face, leaving you with no choice but to submit to his soft lips melting against yours with his hand firmly holding your face in place as his tongue slips into your mouth. You’re always eager to have some of whatever candy he’s eating, and he always going to share it with you, especially during a kiss like this.

Randomly squeezes you throughout the night when he changes positions. Buddha doesn’t actually need to sleep, but he loves the idea of falling asleep with you, so he makes himself sleepy whenever he sees you’re sleepy too. And in public the PDA doesn’t change much. He’s god so what’s anyone gonna do? Sits you on his lap everywhere the two of you go, unless you demand to sit on another surface, he will let you have your way with a cute pout on his face, that obviously goes away with a few soft kisses against his lips, but only he will decide how many kisses will do the trick. You just keep kissing him.

He’s so wholesome, how can you resist all that love.

NSFW

Buddha also doesn’t experience any sexual desire, but he knows a mere human like you battles with that, sensing even the slightest arousal you experience, which to his amusement, is always within his vicinity. You’re actually always horny, since he’s always in your personal space, so smooth without even realizing it. However, he does understand that what he does to that empty little noggin of yours, always filled with thoughts of him defiling you in ways even he finds entertaining. Eventually, he does approach the topic, hearing your thoughts from all the way in the kitchen while you thought about him in the shower, grabbing your breasts and tweaking your nipples as you freely moaned, confident that the running water in the shower drowned out your sweet sounds. “Woah,babe, you really want me to do that to you?” , he loudly chuckles, caging you against wall of the shower. Maybe you did have a heart attack at the sudden presence of your lover butt naked in the shower next to you, a heart attack he quickly reversed. He’s so close you could feel his skin pressing against yours, your pussy so hot and wet and Buddha knows its not from the water, swallowing the spit building in his mouth at the thought of your arousal on his tongue. “Bud-Buddha, wai—“, you whimper, knowing how overwhelming he can be at times.

Excited to fulfill another one of your requests, he’s already on his knees in between your legs, your thighs resting on his broad shoulders while your back is leaning against the smooth stone wall for support. “Buddha please!”, you whimper, overwhelmed with the anticipation of what he’s about to do to you. You’ve never gone a session without crying from the intense amount of pleasure he gives you and boy does he love comforting you through it all. It’s just so addictive how needy and dependent you are under his touches. He has so much fun playing with your body, his tongue plunging into your aching vagina, smiling at the sharp gasp you made, not expecting him to go that route so soon. Both his large hands on your hips, you know there’s never any point in fighting him as he starts sucking your swollen clit, flattening his tongue to lick your entire vulva before repeating his actions, your hand caressing your breasts while you bite your lower lip, submitting yourself to whatever happens.

He might be a little obsessed with you because he fucks you purely for your enjoyment, not that he’s not enjoying himself too, its just that he knows you need him like this and he revels in spoiling his sweet little angel rotten. Slowly plunging his thick, long member deep inside of you, his focus is only on your face, admiring the cute faces you make struggling to handle such a stretch, your hands gripping his biceps for dear life as he goes impossibly deeper, randomly pressing kisses on your lips while your mouth is open to accommodate your breathing, more kisses decorating your face as he thrusts his hips slowly. He’s just completely mesmerized with how stunning you are, his patience never running thin to make sure you’re thoroughly overwhelmed, slipping out of your pussy only to try and shove himself into your asshole. “Uh uh uh, its okay pretty, you’ve got this”, he says, trying to encourage you to take him, knowing damn well he’s making a complete mess of you. You’re literally whimpering, choking on a scream with every thrust into your tight asshole, his godly cock massaging every inch of your walls, his thumb reaching down to start massaging your clit, a small smirk on Buddhas face when he feels your making a mess, the shivering of your thighs growing more violent as he keeps the same pace, his thumb still massaging your clit, “Buddha!!! no no I can’t”, you say out of breath, only hoping he understands you, but you know he’s not ending this here. “Shh shh angel, you can take it, gimmy kissy, c’mere”, he softly says, he’s warm breath on your face, finally pulling his dick out of your rectum to realign it with your squirting vagina. Crying out loudly, you could feel him rub himself along your clit, knowing what this meant. You begin kicking your legs, attempting to crawl away from him before he simply holds you down your thighs, pulling you closer to him again, pushing himself into you again, moving slowly since he was too big move too fast. “Fuck!”, he growls above your cries. “Fuck! No sweetheart its okay, keep coming for me, you’re such a sweet little angel you know”, he coos at you, his only goal to fulfill your fantasy…a fantasy you obviously can’t handle.

[sweetrottenendings]

"Plea"

Lawrence Oleander x GN!Reader

I might make a part 2 to this idk i just luv my plant wife.

SFW, one single swear word, 899 words. You wanna go on a date with Lawrence. Maybe a little OOC? Still figuring out how i wanna portray him in my writing.

Once again MDNI i promise you this fandom isn't for you.

-

It’s been a long time since you’ve had fresh air- real fresh air, not just Lawrence opening the window a smidge after your pleading. Despite all the greenery littering his apartment (or- your home, the cage you’ll never leave.) it feels as if the oxygen has been sapped entirely. All that is left is the musk, the stench of rot and the way its salt infects your lungs. Is there a chemical mixture of salt and carbon dioxide? Probably, but it likely isn’t what you’re sucking in at the moment.

Sometimes however, it brings you comfort with the familiarity. Stockholm syndrome set in long ago, so long ago that you struggle to remember the moment it hit. You don’t think you’d have it any other way, you love Lawrence despite the revolting relationship that’s been curated in the space- you’re thinking about the air again.

The delicate sound of trickling water sounds out, Lawrence is watering the plants. He’s meticulous, as he is with everything he does. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he dictates the exact amount of water each plant requires. It’s moments like these where you get to observe him in his entirety. The way his form hunches, blonde hair that occasionally clings to his neck, bright blue eyes that used to haunt your nightmares but now soothe your dreams. If only there were a universe where you had met normally, where Lawrence wasn’t as disturbed as he is- and you could be a normal couple. One that goes on cute dates to the park, snuggles together at night when the rain gushes outside, loves each other like normal people and don’t prod at each others spinal cords-

You should stop that thought there.

A park date, you imagine that would be something he could enjoy- considering his affinity for nature. Perhaps he could even enjoy it in this universe? He loves you, he really does- in his own fucked up way. Plus you really, desperately need fresh air. You need to inhale it as hard as you can, to feel alive for once (But do you really want to feel alive?) compared to the hollow death you feel now. Lawrence would never take you out around people however, there will always be that part of him that worries you’ll run and abandon what you’ve created together. (You never will, he’s all you need.)

What about during the night? He could take you to any spot he chooses, hide you from anyone he sees- even tie you to him, surely you could make it look inconspicuous. It would be nice too, the weather during the night is pleasant and far more suited to what he’s used to. He might get angry though, he wouldn’t kill you but maybe he’d finally go through with the threat to cut off your limbs. After pondering for a moment, you decide it’s worth the risk.

Your voice cuts him out of the zone he’s found himself in- he turns sharply towards you. He isn’t as trembly as he used to be, now confident in his power over you. “Lawrence-” Your voice is soft, the way you’ve trained it to be, “I have a request…”

He stares at you, unblinking.

“This is t-the biggest thing I will ever ask of you, and I won’t be upset or surprised if you say no.” It’s not like your feelings matter anyway, but you hope it may soothe any anger. He places down the watering can with a soft sound and makes his way to you. You haven’t been tied up in a very long time, but sometimes you sit yourself in the same chair from the start- it’s almost comforting. He kneels down to your eye level with a stern stare, and nods- prompting you to continue.

“I-I want to go outside-” He inhales sharply “-with you…” He exhales. “A date, in a park maybe, during the night so there isn’t anyone around…” You give him a sweet smile, as loving as you can, “...it’d be just us, like it’s meant to be.” he continues to stare, blue eyes burning into your soul and eating whatever confidence you had left- jaws wide and unrelenting. He must be angry, surely, he’s going to cut your limbs off and tie you back up, you’ve destroyed everything!-

“Okay…” You blink.

“Okay?”

He nods “We… we can go out.” You feel your heart swell with the most joy you’ve felt in your life, it bursts at the seams like you’ve just gorged yourself at a buffet. You want to hug him- you reach your trembling arms out in hopes he understands, and he does. Taking you into his arms, soft yet oddly strong for someone like him, he wraps you into his being. A hand comes up to stroke your hair in a soothing gesture- you didn’t realise you had started crying. You nuzzle your face deep into his chest, a grateful mantra pouring from your forever scarred lips. He tilts your head up to face him- a warm smile splayed across his face, filled with nothing but love for you, only you, forever you.

His voice is the gentlest you’ve ever heard from him,

“If you try to run, I will kill you.”

You smile back,

“Good, I love you Lawrence…”

He doesn’t say it back, but he doesn’t have to. You know he loves you.

[rainba]

Columbina's Doll

//nonconsensual stuff, dark content, NSFW 18+, yandere, that kind of stuff

mostly just rambling about Columbina lol (I can't ever really find stuff about here either..)

Fem! Reader

-----------------------------------------

Columbina views you as her precious doll– a doll she gets to play with and dress up, a doll she deems as her most prized possession. 

She’ll buy you all the finest of laces and cutest of outfits; sometimes she even buys you dresses that match her own. Brushing your hair while she hums a soft haunting tune, her fingers lightly dancing across your throat as she teasingly squeezes it. Whenever she’s done dressing you up, she takes photos of your beauty, then places you back in the ornate cage specifically built to keep you in her loving embrace.

You never understood why she chose you of all people. She always refuses to elaborate on her decisions. 

She smiles so innocently as she wraps her arms around your waist. She smiles innocently still as she bites down into your neck, piercing your skin, lapping  up all of your blood. Crimson stains her dainty cheeks. Cry, whine, beg and plead… Every word that she doesn’t want to hear goes in one ear and out the other. 

Sometimes she giggles when you try to squirm away from her. Giggles when your voice cracks as you beg for mercy.

Columbina is the prettiest monster you’ve ever seen.

On days where she’s feeling playfully mean, she’ll massage your chest and pinch your nipples tightly as you cry and twitch beneath her. “You’re so lovely,” she whispers warmly while her nails dig deep into your sides. 

“My precious doll.” 

There’s never a day that goes by without her leaving new ‘lovemarks’ on your skin, results of her little ‘play sessions’ with you.

Perhaps she expresses her love through painting, and your body is her canvas.

It’s impossible to tell what her motives are– impossible to tell what she’s feeling. Through rage, sadness, lust, and joy, all she ever wears is a faint, pleasant smile. So even as she takes a decorative blade to your skin as a punishment or bites you until you bleed, she’ll be placidly smiling all the while.

“Why does my doll insist on being so disobedient? Is she not happy?”

Her hands cup your cheeks as she forces you to look up at her– and you wonder if she can even see you as her eyes remain covered by the thin rows of crossing fabric. But you assume that, by some sense of magic, she can see everything– see way too much, even.

Sometimes it feels like she’s able to see things that most humans cannot– has eyes in places where her physical form isn’t present. There’s some moments where you’re all alone in a dark room, locked in your cage, and you can still feel a pair of eyes watching you. Stalking you.

It sends chills down your spine.

“Your expression is so endearing, love.”

She loves it when you cry.

Tears that sparkle so radiantly– sparkling like an endless abyss of untouched snow. 

Sometimes she gets turned on when you cry. The sounds of your heavy breathing, the pure agony in your voice, the expression you wear… Columbina will get swept away when wiping your tears. “Shhh, shhh… It will all be okay, my love.” She smiles even wider as she kisses the corners of your eyes. Her warm breath will linger on your cheeks, her lips hovering so close to your skin. Then she’ll lean down and kiss your neck, your collarbones… All the way down until she reaches between your legs.

It’s a little strange to see her head between your thighs. When she’s eating you out, she does so tenderly, as if to show you that she truly loves you. She places her hands gently on your thighs and holds you in place, focusing entirely on making you feel good. She loves hearing you moan almost as much as she loves to hear you whimper and cry.

So she’ll tongue-fuck you for a good hour, going as slow as she can to build up your climax. Every time you try to cum before she wants you to, she’ll slow down to an agonizingly slow pace– sometimes stops entirely– just to restart the process of making you cum. 

On some days you’d just prefer she bite you or pull a knife out on you instead. At least when she does those things to you it’s done and over with in a quick way.

[ynmnrmt]

You & Me & Rhea Makes Three: Chapter 8

rhea ripley x m!reader x m!reader's girlfriend

word count: 7,049

warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, themes of domination/submission, dubiously consensual nonmonogamy, relationship drama, violence/threat

a/n: This chapter contains a moment of metatextuality which is so self-indulgent I should probably be in prison for it. However, it also contains scenes of rough, kinky sex, which is presumably what you're really here for.

(The story so far: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven)

The bathroom isn’t where you remember it. It isn’t how you remember it, either. The door doesn’t stick, and the tiles are pleasantly warm under your feet, which is good, because it’s a long walk across them to a sink like a sacrificial Roman altar. Surely, you think blearily as you lift your toothbrush from a silver recreation of an eagle’s claw, the old cup worked just as well.

Obviously you see Jen come into the room, in that banquet-table sized mirror, long before she’s anywhere near you. But you still make the noise of pleasant surprise when she hugs you from behind and kisses you on the neck.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask as best you can through a mouthful of fluoridated foam.

“It’s...a really nice bed,” she says. “I’ll get used to it, I guess.”

“That new bed smell,” you joke half-heartedly, it still makes her smile. Perhaps she feels the same neurosis as you, that this is all some kind of trick, that any moment the bottom will drop out, perhaps it’s all some kind of reality show. “I know, it’s all still strange.”

“It’s not that,” she mumbles. “I woke up feeling really fat and bloated.”

“You’re not,” you insist, and turn to caress her stomach and show her that part of her too is loved. She has less body fat than you do, which is probably still under a healthy amount. “You have absolutely no reason to feel unattrac-”

As you say it, Rhea walks in to yawn and stretch her arms over her head, broad at the shoulders and lean in the waist. You both stare, and it really feels like it would be patronising to finish the sentence. And of course you know exactly how Jen must feel, faced with that gorgeous strength and power, there’s the vague thoughts of how scrawny you are by comparison but before anything else the immediate desperate desire.

“Can you stop making our girlfriend feel insecure?” you ask her, with the same air of flimsy jocularity as before, even though you mean it. Rhea blinks, taken aback somewhat, and you reflect it is an unreasonable thing to ask, it’s not as if she can help it. Then she kisses Jen full on the mouth, bending her back slightly over the sink, only to break away and leave Jen dazed and move on to you.

It was the morning wood that woke you, straining in the cage up against Jen’s thigh, and you stayed awake in the dark for some time in that half-sleep limbo. Now, with Rhea’s morning breath filling your lungs, it’s back with a vengeance. One of these days, you reflect muzzily, as you share lips and tongue and oxygen, you’re going to have to have a little talk with Jen about the logistics of wearing one of these things while living with two sexy ladies.

When Rhea backs off, it’s your toothpaste-froth she has across her mouth – and she licks it up, you see her run her tongue all around her teeth. When she swallows, you go so far as to make a little noise, a choke on the inhale. She gently lays a hand around Jen’s shoulder, onto her triceps, and tells her “You’re beautiful just the way you are” before giving her that golden easy smile.

“Yeah,” you agree, and come round her other side, this time it’s you kissing her on the neck and probably leaving a foamy imprint where your lips touch her. “Don’t ever change. Ever.”

*

You find yourself alone, in the larger lounge, slightly awestruck by just how high the ceilings are. “What’s up?” you ask, as Rhea shuffles into the room.

“I’m a little stiff, I’ve been blasting my abs,” she replies – and lifts her shirt. “Here, feel.” The heat, the hard steel ridges, it’s as if you have your hand on the world’s sexiest radiator. She flops down on the couch with an “Oof!” and spreads out. “Stretchie-me-out…” she mumbles as she gets herself the whole way across the couch and across you. The filthy, lovely smell of her body is still all around you, rising from her underarms and her crotch and her feet, and between her top and her sports shorts her tummy sparkles. “God, I’m beat. I bet you could take me at an arm wrestle, right now.”

“No I couldn’t,” you say, even as she pokes you with her toes, and eyes you in a way that makes you want to give it a try. “Anyway, you were doing your abs, and-”

With a grunt of discomfort, she’s upright and in your face. “Come on, I dare you. Maybe we can make it interesting.”

“Interesting how?” Hardly even your words, but the response she wanted, and you’re all too happy to give it to her.

All playful, she proffers “If you win, I get to suck your cock,” and immediately you are uncomfortably aware of the cage under your clothes as you twitch in her direction, “and if I win, you get to jam your face in my ass and take a nice deep whiff.” She’s so close she’s practically French-kissing you, and she comes closer still to lower her voice and add “I showered before, it’s not like, y’know.”

Oh yes, you know. “When you put it like that, I don’t see how I can lose,” you say. Rhea wriggles with glee. You have already firmly decided you will let her win, or rather, won’t even resist too much while she effortlessly defeats you. Now is not the moment, you feel, for the shock revelation of the cage, the awkward explanation, and God help you the politics of it all.

It’s a couple of careful, deliberate movements with which she stretches out on the floor, lying on her stomach, her right arm cocked and ready. You get down there to match her, meet her head-on, a conception that seems ridiculous when your palm meets hers and she sweetly smiles “Holding hands.”

“Come on, take this seriously,” you say, as you try to shift so the cage isn’t wedged straight into your bladder. She hardly needs to expend any effort to lever your hand down towards the floor, and you don’t try to stop her – and then, when her victory seems assured, she pulls you hard back the other way. Even if you did take the strain now there’s no possible way you could stop her, the back of her hand’s on the floor, and your hand’s there on top of hers.

“Oops,” she says, cutely. “I knew you could beat me.”

“But Rhea,” you reply, and you think you keep your voice steady and don’t let the desperation show, “I was really looking forward to getting better acquainted with your ass.”

“Aww…” she gently strokes your cheek, with the hand you allegedly just pinned to the carpet. “Tell you what. Since you won, we can do both, since that’s what you want.” Hmm, you’ve allegedly won and ended up with the exact opposite of what you wanted, how’s that happened? Though really, it’s not as if you didn’t want either side of it, it’s just the circumstances that – but no time to think about this, because she’s up on her feet, and as you rise slowly to your knees she’s turned around to present you with your prize.

Rhea pulls her sports shorts down to the shelf where her thighs begin, and there it is, looking you right in the eye, the gorgeous rounded form of her rump which is painfully arousing to you even when you try to think of it with a profoundly unsexy term like ‘rump’. A gleaming bead of sweat rolls down it – no, around it, it struggles over the upper curve before it succumbs to gravity and goes in freefall the rest of the way.

“I hope I’m not too sweaty,” Rhea halfway giggles, while you restrain yourself from instinctively licking clean the imperceptible trail that droplet has left down the right cheek of her glorious ass.

“No,” you manage in response, that low-lying musky smell already invading every orifice in your head, by no means appetising but it makes you hungry all the same. You can already feel the cage pressing in on all sides.

“I mean, I wasn’t really working the glutes – alright, biiig whiff,” she says, encouraging, as she reaches back and puts her hand on your head. But she doesn’t pull you in, she couldn’t, because her mere touch is all the prompt you need to dive right in there. And you can’t take that huge inhalation because your nose is clogged up by her ass, the softness over that steel-hard muscle underneath moulded so naturally to your face.

She doesn’t smell the way you would after a workout – she smells the way her abs shone. There’s a moment of shock when she doesn’t let you go, of course there is, the panic as you realise just how short of breath you are. But this lightning sensation gets re-routed straight to your dick. It’s not even that you want to be inside her because you practically already are, and you barely even want to escape.

When she lets you come up for air she looks back at you, no, down at you, peeking from the corners of her eyes over her shoulder, and says “You didn’t take a whiff” with the faintest disappointment. So you breathe in greedily, while the cage wobbles around in your underwear, and all you can think of is how every lungful of her essence will be a further mindbending factor in how intense your eventual orgasm is going to be.

And when you’re finally out of breath and have to back off, the taste lingers, floating on your palate, in through the nose and into your mouth. Rhea turns around quickly and drops to her knees to face you, and gives you a long, gleeful kiss. All you can think is that you wouldn’t have the stomach to do this if she’d been sniffing around your ass, and how very, very grateful you are to her.

“I hope this was okay for you,” she says, cheek to cheek with you. “After that – I really am worried about accidentally pushing you into something you don’t want to do.”

“No,” you say, a choice word for this moment, “it’s fine. I like your ass.” And you can feel her giggle at that.

“What else do you like?” she husks, and the cage clinks audibly.

“I,” your mouth is dry, “I’m really not in the mood for a blow job. Not right now.” Now you feel her face change again, you can sense the expression of surprise and disbelief, because, yes, why would anyone say such a thing?

Rhea backs off, she doesn’t look sad, but even the little curl of disappointment in her mouth twists your heart in knots. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Perhaps it’s not even disappointment, perhaps it’s concern, it’s a bit of a giveaway when she squeezes your hand and gently adds “Is something wrong?”

“No! No, it’s not – you’re great. You know that.” You can’t put the same poundage into squeezing her hand back, but she still brightens up a little when you do. And you love her, so you kiss her, with the taste of her body still on your tongue, and she kisses you back with a relieved enthusiasm while you try not to think about the metal pressing into your cock.

Is it the way you feel so safe that makes you reach blindly out for her, to touch her stomach, touch her breast, and make her giggle again? It must be, and the cage is so tight on you now that when she starts curling her fingers down your chest you almost let it happen, for what little comfort that will bring. But eventually you have to pull back, and when you do you try your very best to make it seem natural.

“I used to be so insecure about my butt,” confesses Rhea, a warm glow in her cheeks.

“Come on,” you scoff.

“Well, I get sweaty around there. And, I get all this fan mail,” when she brings this up you’re already giving a little oh of mea culpa, but she continues, “a lot of it gets incredibly graphic. I even get people writing elaborate fan-fictions about me, and usually about people I work with as well, and, fuck, then I have to look them in the eye on Monday. Do you know what it’s like, trying to keep that kind of filth out of your mind?”

Your hand finds hers. “Yes,” you say, entirely truthfully, and it sets her off laughing, a low-level amusement that she cannot possibly stop.

“Alright, alright – stop looking at me like that!”

“I know. I’m sorry. Christ, maybe I don’t know, I know I don’t know what it’s like being a WWE megastar. I just, well, I hope beyond all that, I can make you happy. We can make you happy.” That’s a rhetorical flourish, you want to add, not an afterthought.

“That’s it, though, that’s why you guys – I just want a safe place where I can get away from everything. Where I can be with people who really matter to me.” When Rhea leans forward again this time it’s not simply her lips on your lips, this is deeper, this is something primaeval, and you let her force you onto your back and climb on top of you. “It’s just so much fun.”

“It sure is,” you enthuse weakly, the cage itself strangling your voice. Even with Rhea straight up on her arms over you, it’s somehow like she’s pressing right down on you. And before long, it is exactly like that, as she sweetly kisses all around your mouth.

“I want to make you feel good,” she continues, and now her lips walk their way down your chest, even over your shirt it gives you cold thrills. You grab at her, your hands on her shoulders, it’s to try and stop her inexorable move down your body but it just seems like a loving clutch, even to you. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel,” and then she has hold of your waistband and pulls, sharply.

The sudden chill of open air is nothing compared to the way your blood freezes when Rhea does too – gaping at what she has found in there, struck dumb completely.

“What is this?” she asks finally, and immediately plays with it, bouncing it in her fingers, which makes you tilt your head back and gasp.

“Jen was – she didn’t want you to be able to make me go with you again,” you stutter out, what an interesting way of saying it.

“She did this t-” Rhea begins, shoulders squared, full of fire and outrage and for a moment so unbearably sexy you try spiritedly to clench your prostate and burst the cage from the inside. Then she slumps. “Yeah. No, I, I understand. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be bundling you to the ground like this.” You nearly cry out but yes! You must! when she says that, you nearly do, before she takes your arms and sits you back up. Again, a wave of desire that feels like it’ll have the metal cut through your skin and turn you inside-out. You rest your head on her shoulder, and she rests her head on you, and sits with you, troubled. She sounds utterly wretched when she confesses “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” falls from your mouth, and you do, but more than that you do not want her to feel bad in any way.

“And I love Jen, too – I don’t care if she wants to stop me fucking you, I still love her, I love you both so much I think my heart’s going to…” You hear her choke back the tears.

“Oh, Rhea,” you don’t have the words but you wrap your arms around her and squeeze, as if you don’t want her to get away. She could break your grip and throw you off in a second, instead she passes a hand over your elbow, and grasps you too – hard, maybe it’ll leave a bruise, you shift uncomfortably, there’s the cage again.

*

You do the dishes. It is the distraction of the task, combined with the comfort of the warm water, that makes it appeal to you in this moment. Then Rhea creeps up from behind you, and holds you lightly in her arms, and suddenly the idea of warm water being in any way comforting seems profoundly stupid. You wish you could quite literally melt into her grasp – life as a liquid strikes you as so much simpler.

“I don’t even know how to feel about this,” she says, and you can feel the pain in her voice. “Part of me wants to get Jen in an elbow lock and then chokeslam her through the drywall, and I hate that this even occurs to me.”

“I know what you mean,” you say, “I used to be terrible for bringing work home with me.”

“I wish she was here,” Rhea muses, setting her chin down on top of your head. “We could just talk things through instead of getting wound up about it.”

“She did say her aunt was really ill.” At the time she left, it didn’t occur to you how long she might be gone for, and it seemed uncouth to ask about the key. But at that point you’d had the cage on less than four hours. “I keep thinking I should have gone with her.”

“But then I’d be on my own,” and Rhea hardly needs to inflect that to make it sound like flirting, “all alone, in this big house.” If it was uncouth to ask about the key then there’s no way in hell you can ask her to stop being sexy so the cage doesn’t get wedged into your tender skin.

You finish the dishes and go for a walk together. The tree on the horizon seems like a natural goal, and as you cross the grounds arm in arm with Rhea, the grass – her grass – wetting your ankles and everything looking beautiful you wonder how it is that you seem so desperately unhappy.

Rhea leans against the tree. She might be looking out into the distance, over the unspoiled land and light forests, a lot of which are also now hers – but her eyes are filled with tears. “I thought we’d be happy here,” she says, and for want of anything you can say to try and make this come true you hold her around her middle. “I thought we’d never have to worry about anything ever again.”

“We don’t,” you try desperately to reassure her, the sight of her even mildly upset like a dagger in your guts, “we’ve got everything we want here.”

“I wanted to make you happy.” No emotion to the words as she looks down at you, you feel about half her height and this is incredibly exciting in your hips. “That’s why I let you win at arm-wrestling.”

“You made me win.”

Through those tears Rhea gives a little hiccup of laughter. “I did, didn’t I? It’s because I wanted to get you off, I love doing that, I love how nervous you get,” and she’s grabbing for your waistband again, but she doesn’t pull it down this time, her eyes are clear as they look into yours and she asks “please?”

And how could you say no?

Rhea drops to the ground, on one knee like a soldier, and takes the whole cage in her mouth. You don’t much like thinking of yourself as bite-sized in that way, perhaps that’s what gives you a chill and makes you worry, makes you say “Rhea, anyone could see.”

“They could,” she muses, with her lips against the metal, “and I bet they’d like it, too.” She is after all a stage performer, you think to yourself, she will have thoughts and opinions with capital letters on this sordid business of being watched, then as if she’s read your thoughts she continues “No, what I like best here is that nobody’s going to be watching us, nobody’s going to be glup anywhere near, this is just for us.” She opens her mouth again and touches her nose to your stomach.

“Oh fuck, Rhea,” you breath, she holds you by the balls and the gnarled bark of the tree is pressed into your back. Even through the gaps of the cage you can feel how warm and wet her tongue is, and then she wriggles it in, she actually touches you with it…

“Mmph!” she yelps, and you cry out too, now you feel the metal on all sides – except where your expanding cock has trapped the tip of her tongue in there with it.

“Fuck – I’m sorry – I’m sorry!” Eyes wide, you look about for help which, as Rhea has firmly established, is not there. And she gazes up at you with her mouth up against you, she pleads silently. You bite your own tongue, hard, to try and quell all that sealed-off arousal, but it’s down the other end of your body, it might as well be a thousand miles away. “I’m trying not to get hard, I’m so sorry,” you splutter, and she whimpers in reply, soft muffled moans that you’ll never forgive yourself for making things worse.

You close your eyes, grit your teeth, and rake your hand down the bark of the tree. The pain cuts through, for a moment it seems to work, you want it to work. Then Rhea chokes her mouth off the cage, her tongue still pinned in place by your cock, and she gets her fingers in there, she fiddles blindly and ends up touching your already-tender skin and now it is pain at both ends.

The bark tears through your knuckles, you swipe up and down unconscious to the pain now, and still it is no help. It is finally Rhea who solves this, roughly pulling herself free with a “Blah!” with such force she falls on her back. Frantically you help her back to her feet, though it’s more like you guide her rise, and she nurses the end of her tongue.

“I’m sorry, Rhea,” you repeat.

“I’m thorry too,” and when she hears herself she scowls in amused frustration. “I hope you’re thatithfied.”

“Obviously not,” you say, and mercifully you can both laugh at that, even as your balls throb and the blood trickles down your fingers.

*

You wake up from a wonderful dream of you and Jen and Rhea all happily naked as the days you were born, and you wake into a sting of pain, the curse of morning wood. You writhe, you breath sharply, nothing you seem to be able to do can make your cock go down. Then your noises of pain must wake Rhea, too, because she muzzily says “My poor boy” and wraps her big arms around you.

Despite everything, even when she brings one thigh up over the offending area, this is better. For sure, the cage is cold and hard, but everything else is warm and soft.

By the time you are up and have finished making breakfast, Rhea comes through the front door, flushed and pink from her run. “Only ten miles today,” she observes, “I’m being very lazy.” And yes, once she’s eaten, she flops on the couch and snuggles up under a blanket. “I hope you’re sleeping okay,” she adds, the fabric up to her chin, only her face peeping out.

“Most of the time,” you say, truthfully, between those painful interruptions you do manage to get in some shut-eye. “I hope I’ve not been disturbing you.”

“Take a look in the ice box.” When you do, Rhea has topped herself, she manages to melt your heart a little without even being in the room, because she’s made you an ice-pack, an old-fashioned cartoon ice-pack of the kind that’s usually meant to soothe a sore head. The frosty feel is a thrill all of its own, and one that doesn’t immediately bring you into conflict with the cage.

You go back through with a suspicious bulge in the front of your trousers, and kiss Rhea on the forehead, adding “You’re precious and perfect.”

Rhea smiles sunnily and brings an arm out from under the blanket, a flash of fear and arousal that she might touch you – but instead, she pushes the blanket in between her thighs. “There we go…” she murmurs, and then explains “I’ve always found this really comforting.”

“You want comforting?” Without waiting for a response you sit alongside her to stroke her hair, and she wriggles with some glee.

“Actually,” she wheedles, blinking her summery eyes up at you, “my feet hurt.” Her gentle smile turns into a grin. “So long as that isn’t going to cause you any little problems.”

You rearrange yourself at the other end of the couch and start working her soles. Of course it turns you on, but realistically just being around her was going to do that. You try to stay detached, and to look her in the eye while you’re doing it, but as the scent of her run rises up into your face you find yourself thinking how lonely her toes seem outside of your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she wheedles far above you, what can only be the lead-in to a request or perhaps a plea, “but having you here like this caring for me – loving me – it makes me, oh God, so fucking horny.”

She just has to edge her running shorts down with her thumbs, over the curve of her hips. You are all too happy to take it from there and strip them off completely. Then you bow your head, and as you lap at her labia, already flushed and excited, yes, there’s the taste of her run. It feels as if you have to eat your way through it to even get to her vagina, though you treasure every mouthful.

This is more the scenario you’d had in mind, where just because you are sexually restrained is no reason for her to go without. You do not feel her pleasure in some second-hand voodoo transfer, but you feel everything else, you feel her heart beat faster and her juices flow. And you definitely feel it as her hips shift to invite you in further and her big thighs tighten around your head. She squeals, and giggles, and tells you what she wants to do to you, and the cage gets you like a snare.

*

Before you’re in too much of that permanent intimate pain, the call finally comes, and you drive to the airport to pick up Jen. As you wait in the short-term parking you wonder just what it would be like, trying to get through security with the cage on. You play it out in your mind, they take you aside into a sterile-looking back room, of course they do, but then the guard looks like Rhea, all buttoned up in uniform, and the jab of pain between your legs brings you back to the real world.

When she comes through baggage claims she looks dreadful. You go in for a hug and she almost collapses into your arms.

“So, how’s your aunt?” you say, with that slightly breathy sympathy, the voice that is already fortified for the worst.

“They were lying,” Jen sobs, “they made it up to hassle me about Grandma Barbara’s will.” Jesus! This really gives you pause, since she was only left a china hutch. No wonder she never goes back home.

You carry her suitcases, then you sit her down in the car, to give her a moment’s respite, before you load them into the boot. You’re not good with these types of situations, you never have been. Before you can even start the car she’s thrown herself across you, arms draped round your neck like a feather boa.

“I missed you,” she says, voice steadier, as if you have administered relief from a deep-seated pain. “This,” you keep your eyes on the road but hear the jingle of the keys around her neck, “was the only thing keeping me together.”

“Jen,” you say, at least you know where to begin, “sometimes I get worried that, since, you’re coming from that background – I’ve read some stuff on psychology, that, people who have a history like that, they end up understanding that kind of abuse as a kind of affection in and of itself. If you know what I mean.”

“Well, I get that,” she says, “but I don’t see how it’s really relevant to – I’ve got you and Rhea. I got away from all that horrible shit. I’m happy with you guys. I’m safe with you guys.” And when she says this, it twists the ventricles of your heart, you think you might need to try not to cry. Then she holds up the key and adds “You want road head?” all smiles now.

“Oh no,” you say, “I’ll go off the side and over a cliff if you do that,” and she laughs, and squeezes you.

When you get home, Rhea’s nowhere to be seen. The lobby’s empty, so’s the atrium, the swimming pool lies silent and still. You slog Jen’s cases up the split staircase, along the balustrade and into the master bedroom, these are all deserted too. It’s just you and Jen, alone in the house.

“Did you want something to eat?” you ask her. “Coffee?”

She still looks downcast until she crashes into you, face smashed against yours, arms wrapped around you so you can’t balance, and you topple down onto the bed as she gives you rough mouth-to-mouth. You squirm in her grasp, it’s not like being with Rhea, you could definitely escape here, but obviously you don’t want to, you’d never want to.

“Come on,” she says, when her mouth finally leaves yours and you crane your neck trying to get it back, she tugs ineffectually at your clothes, “I want you to fucking stick it in me.” So you undo your trousers, and try not to shudder-moan when the cool air kisses your cock inbetween the metal spokes.

Jen leans down to open the cage – and there behind her you see the door open and Rhea framed in there, lit from behind and shadowy, but you can still tell she’s in her work clothes. The spikes glitter and her eyes flash fierce white out from her black makeup. For such a big, muscly, glorious woman she moves so silently. Then Jen straightens up and refills your view, holding the padlock.

“There we go,” she halfway giggles, and sets it aside. “Now let’s get this off.” You’re already semi-hard, so she has to give the cage itself a bit of a tug. “I’ve missed this, I was imagining finally getting you inside of me the whole way home.”

“Jen,” you breathe, not able to muster a real warning with your cock flapping free.

“I was shaking just thinking about-erk!”

Rhea’s grabbed her, one thick arm under her shoulder and curled around her neck, and Rhea brings her face right next to Jen’s and says “Welcome home.” You want to intervene, but Jen’s flash of untrammelled delight makes you want to see where this is going. “You wanted to get some, did you? Yeah, I bet you did.”

“Uh-huh,” Jen nods frantically.

“Did you consider, for one moment, what it’s been like for us? I have been aching to get at his cock, but oh no, somebody decided to put it in a cage. What the fuck was that, anyway? Where’d you get a sick idea like that?”

“I thought it was kind of kinky,” says Jen, still slightly choked.

“You think something that degrading was kinky?” Rhea’s teeth touch Jen’s earlobe as she growls that, and she delivers it with conviction, but a small mad part of you seizes that little hope, the idea it is all okay and she’s just putting it on. “It hurt. Obviously it hurt him. And you didn’t care.”

“Unnh,” is Jen’s response, probably because Rhea’s other hand is jammed down her trousers.

“You went off to who knows where, and you knew he’d be in pain,” Rhea snarls, the muscles in her arm like hydraulics as she works Jen over, “and you knew we wouldn’t be able to fuck… you’re a shit fucking girlfriend.”

“No, Rhea, come on,” you say, you try to prop yourself up a bit. “This isn’t exactly-”

“Come on,” Rhea echoes you, while Jen whimpers in her arms, “say it.”

“Oh-hh, I’m sorry,” Jen husks, snatching big preorgasmic breaths, “I’m a shit girlfriend, I’m sorry I locked up your cock.”

“For – sound like you mean it, don’t do a stupid little rhyme.”

“I’m so mmnh sorry, really, I’m sorry,” Jen jerks about in Rhea’s arms, almost trying to get free, but Rhea’s fingers have her hooked firmly in place, “fuck, Rhea, let me kiss him, please.”

Rhea tightens her grip around Jen’s body, you almost feel her bones creak. “No,” goes Rhea, cruel and taunting, and follows it with a long lick up the side of Jen’s mouth. You flash Rhea a look, she replies with an expression that makes you want to marry her. You flash her another look, and another, and she bobs her head this way and that, showing you that perfect full-cheek smile from every angle, until finally she has a little laugh and lets Jen free.

Jen explodes down onto you, she locks you to her with her tongue alone. She grabs at you, too, her arms scrabble around yours like she wants to be rescued. But then you feel Rhea’s greater weight on top of your little pile, along with the shuffling of her hand around your midsection that is still making Jen whine directly into your mouth.

Rhea finds your cock and takes hold of it and lines it up, right where the squeeze of Jen’s thighs meets her pussy. You’re not quite certain if it’s Rhea hauling Jen up and down, or Jen herself shifting her hips, but either way you’re going for it too, you poke yourself in the only direction you can.

“You like that, huh,” Rhea says more softly now, as she keeps your cock clamped in place along Jen’s labia, while making wide swirling circles against you with the back of her other hand. “You want it.”

Whoever that was meant for, it’s Jen who says “Yes, yeah, yes I want it,” her hands smear all over your chest, “yes, yes I want it, I want it, yes yes yes yes-”

For a moment Jen convulses on you, before Rhea peels her off and throws her aside. It’s not a violent act, she’s not hurled against the wall, just further along the bed, but at a distance from you both – and it’s there she thrashes, she clutches at her pussy in a vain attempt to keep it under control while her legs point out like scissors, beyond words as that last ‘yes’ goes further into the same primal cry of pleasure. She’s so wet she’s left a trail of dark droplets along the sheets.

“Ha ha!” Rhea lays her head fondly on your chest, turned to one side to gaze on as Jen still writhes her way through an orgasm. “Was it good for you too?” Rhea asks, and plants a little kiss close enough to your left nipple to make you shiver. After the days of buildup, you’re amazed you weren’t the one to come from all that.

“Rhea,” you say, you struggle slightly for breath under her lovely bulk, “I really don’t like you talking to Jen like that.”

“I thought it was better to address it like this,” she says, looking winsomely up into your eyes, “in the context of a loving, satisfying sexual encounter, rather than it be in anger.”

You look sideways at Jen. She adores you with her eyes, tongue out of her mouth, sweaty and panting, her whole body heaves with each ragged breath. “Maybe,” you say, “but-”

It’s drowned out completely when Rhea hoists herself up over you, and grabs your cock again. Before you can do anything she’s got you inside her, she bounces playfully on you as you twist your tongue trying not to come already.

“I guess, ah! I see what she means,” Rhea reflects, “the wait kind o-of makes it better.”

“I’m really sorry if I come too soon,” you squeak out, and she laughs a knowing, conspiratorial laugh that is somehow reassuring. Then she kicks out a leg and rolls onto her back and brings you with her, all of a sudden you are on top of her and Jen looks up at you from right next to her breast.

“Now fuck the fucking shit out of me,” Rhea warns you and it’s all the stimulus you need, you pump into her with all your might, you grab her arms to keep them there where you want them and she lets you do that. Jen’s tongue drools onto the bedsheet. Rhea moans for more, she turns to jelly under you, she clenches her fists and her leg jerks violently.

Miraculously, you do feel as if you’re in control, more in control anyway, like riding a large and powerful horse that is no longer actually trying to buck you off. Rhea certainly isn’t doing that, the spasms in her legs have calmed down enough that she’s wrapped them around your back.

“You like watching this?” Rhea throws out this jagged little aside in Jen’s direction. “You like seeing your boyfriend’s cock going in and out of me?”

“Uh-huh,” Jen hazes.

“Really?” you add, though you don’t stop.

“Uh-huh,” she says again, and she projects such warmth toward you that you immediately resolve not to let her down on this score. She reaches flimsily out towards you, and Rhea grabs her and pulls her in under her arm, all while you keep right on fucking.

“I’m glad,” you tell your girlfriend, although it might get lost in all the action, underneath Rhea’s cries of pleasure and Jen’s little moans. It makes your heart beat out of control, all this feminine pleasure and love, but you deliberately try not to focus on it, because every fresh husky gasp brings you perilously close to coming, you might actually bite through your tongue if they carry on like this.

But before too long, something gives way inside Rhea’s magnificent body, she throws her head back in one silent cry and her muscles relax. And it’s not a moment too soon, because then all the fluid in your body spurts unstoppably out of you and into her vagina.

You collapse, sweaty and shaky, onto her, and her big arms thump onto your back as she gives you a clumsy squeeze. “God that was good,” she sighs, and cuddles you harder and realigns your spine. “Alright, maybe she has a point about deferred pleasure.”

“The chastity cage wasn’t her idea,” you admit, “at least not originally, it was mine.”

“You kinky little beast,” rumbles out of her chest, and she kisses you tenderly on the crown of your head.

“He just gave me the idea, but it was me,” insists Jen, slithering sluglike up the side of Rhea’s body. “He was just showing me some kinky porn, he wasn’t the one who wanted to do it for real.”

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. In fact-” With the same sort of sharp little tug Jen used to pull the cage off, Rhea pulls the key from around Jen’s neck, the chain snaps and she yelps. Then Rhea sits up, possibly not meaning to throw you aside but it happens either way, and grasps Jen by the back of the head to look straight into her eyes while she protests feebly. “I’m going to go out there tonight, and I’m going to win, with this key around my neck and your boyfriend’s come inside of me.”

For a few moments, Jen is lost for words. Then she simply says “I’ll get horny watching you.”

“Is that so?” Rhea turns back to you with the deranged grin of a woman with a plan. “In that case, maybe we ought to teach our pretty girlfriend a little lesson.”

You’ve just come, you feel empty between your stomach and your knees, and yet she simply has to say this to fill you up with lust again. “What sort of a lesson?”

And Rhea raises the cage. “Maybe, if you want, we can show her what it’s like.”

*

Jen nestles in your lap as you both watch the TV. Rhea has won, like she said, she’s been cheerfully clear that it’s arranged well in advance but still, to see her triumph, she looks so profoundly sexy. There again, if she lost, then of course you could be there to comfort her.

“I love how tight her ass is,” says Jen, initially it seems apropos of nothing, but then, you figure, you were both thinking it.

“She said – I shouldn’t say, she said she was insecure about it, if you can believe that,” you say, though you artfully leave out how this came up.

“We ought to help her feel more secure about it.” There on the screen, your mutual girlfriend throws her arms wide and wriggles her shoulders, it’s probably not even meant to be sexy but Jen stiffens up and you do too. “And I love how her pits taste.”

You nod along, because yes, you do too. “I love how strong she is.”

“I love when she shoves me around.” A cold sweat of relief there, that had really worried you.

“I love when she’s on top.”

Jen starts to laugh, and you do too, and she adds “I also love her tits” before you kiss, and roll on the couch, and kiss. The cage becomes very present inside your underwear. Everything’s alright, you think. It’s all going to be alright.

[subs-n-stuff]

The Failed Bunny Mage Pt.5

A Nice Side

The night was restless for the Rabbit. To his surprise she had let him sleep in his own bed. Although it can’t be said exactly what he expected. Maybe she’d treat him like a pet for real and make him sleep on the floor, at her feet, or even worse; in a cage. He didn’t see any point in imagining realities that don’t exist. She let him keep his bed, for now at least, and for that he’s grateful. 

Unfortunately her generosity didn’t translate to an easy night’s rest. She offered that he stay with her at night, she said he deserves a warm body to sleep next to. Though he’s not quite sure where she’s sleeping. His room is the only one with a bed, but her magic is powerful so it isn’t so far fetched that she conjured up a whole extra room for herself. 

Perhaps he should have taken her offer. Even though he doesn’t fully trust her, it may have been nice to sleep next to someone. What is he even thinking? This demon is holding him hostage, of course he’s not going to find comfort in her embrace no matter how soft, warm, and calming she is… How in the world did she manage to worm her way into his brain this way! Every time he tries to remember what he’s been put through he just can’t help being charmed by her! It’s frustrating, infuriating even! This must be what is keeping him from a good night’s sleep. 

Morning quickly approaches before Little Rabbit can stifle his fluster. As the sun shines on his face through the blinds he feels a slight tingle in his neck coming from his new pink collar. He isn’t sure how he knows, but she’s calling him. He gets up and puts on his usual robes, leather pants and his hooded cloak, before heading out the door of his room and down the steps into the living room. The red skinned woman is waiting for him with a more pleasant smile than he saw the previous day. 

“Good morning, Little Rabbit. Did you sleep well?” She says in a way that sounds like she might actually care about him. 

“Um… No, not really, truthfully.” He says with a suspicious glance, trying to figure out if she is up to something. She takes note.

“Why must you look at me that way; as if I’m scheming or trying to toy with you?” She asks in earnest.

“Is that not what you’ve been doing since you’ve arrived? Am I not just a toy for your devilish amusement?” He retorts with a tsk. 

“Hm, I suppose you’re half right…” She puts a finger to his chin and gently turns his head so their eyes meet. “You are my toy! As well as my pet, my servant, my doll, and whatever else I deem you to be.” She leans in closer to him “That, however, does not mean I don’t care about you and your wellbeing.” She lets her hand down and stands straight again. “I mustn’t be so strict all the time, how else would you see how caring and compassionate I can be? I admit I was slightly harsh yesterday, but you must know when you act up I can be very mean, or…” She pets one of his ears, sending a slight shiver through him “When you’re good I can be very nice. What side of me you see more is up to you.” She ends by petting his head gently.

“I suppose I’d rather see this side more often…” He mutters with a blush. 

“Well then, you’re lucky I’m being lenient instead of punishing you for calling me ‘devilish’, pet.” She says with a hint of seriousness in her voice. 

“I don’t understand, is that not what you are: a devil?” He tilts his head in curiosity. 

Her smile shifts into a frown as she holds her anger back “I am having a good morning, so I will let this pass. Never call me a devil again. Do you understand, pet?” He can see the rising fire in her eyes as she glares at him. 

He quickly nods “Yes, I understand.” 

“Apologize to me. Now.” She promptly replies.

“I am sorry.” He says without hesitation. 

The soft smile returns to her face “Good, Rabbit.” She says while petting his head once more “So what was keeping you up last night?” 

What was that? Little Rabbit ponders to himself for a moment. Why in the world would a devil not want to be called one, and to show such anger and malice at the mention of it? Could she possibly not be one? That can’t be, she looks like one, her magic is as powerful as one too. Maybe the Rabbit should end this foolish train of thought before she catches him pondering the thing that could very quickly bring about that mean side once again.

“I’m not sure, I just… couldn’t is all” He glances at her, all of her. Why is it she still isn’t wearing any clothes? 

“My offer still stands, you could join me to bed tonight. I know you find comfort in my skin, I could help you sleep” She says with a seductive tone, leaving his cheeks red. 

“Wh-Where are you sleeping anyway? My room is the only bedroom in this house.” He says, deflecting. 

“Oh. I slept in the cellar. A bed is simple enough to conjure without expending too much energy.” 

“Wait… I have a cellar?” 

“You didn’t know?” 

“No, where did you find such a thing?” 

“There’s a hatch on the floor underneath the rug we’re standing on.”

He looks down curiously and steps off the rug, she follows, allowing him to lift the rug and see the hatch right there as she said. 

“How did I not know about this?” He asks, dumbfounded. 

“Oh poor Rabbit, there’s barely anything between those ears of yours isn't there?” She teases.

All he can do in response is cross his arms and pout. She diffuses the situation by rubbing his head before covering up the hatch once more. 

“You can explore the cellar later, my pet, right now we have errands to run. I assume you have a market in this town, correct?” 

“Yes, but my kitchen should be stocked for the next few days at least.” 

“I consume a lot, we’ll need to stock more or neither of us will have anything to eat.” 

“Okay, so what do you want me to get?” 

“Don’t be so eager, pet. I will be the one doing the shopping today, just think of this as me taking my pet for a walk.” 

“Wait, you can’t go out like that!”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re red and completely naked! I know you don’t want to be called a d-... w-well you know, but the people out there will do more than just call you one, they’ll treat you like one too!” 

She looks down at herself and puts her hand to her chin, thinking. “Hmm… I guess you’re right, pet” She says and snaps her fingers.

As she does she is engulfed in purple flames, startling Little Rabbit and making him flinch. When the flames set she is wearing a long black dress with flowing sleeves, black leather knee high boots underneath, as well as long purple leather gloves, her head is now adorned by her purple witch hat that obscures her horns and face, and a black mask covers the rest of her face and neck. One can only assume that her wings are folded neatly behind her under the dress.

He could not help but admire her form in the dress, and something about her being so obscured, the mystique, the mystery of it, he couldn’t help but stare a bit. 

“Judging by your face right now I guess I look quite good, don’t I?” She catches his eyes wondering. 

“I-I suppose you do…” He quickly looks away, his cheeks red. “It’s a good disguise is all…” 

“Awe, you’re allowed to look at me, pet. I haven’t blindfolded you… Yet at least.” She teases. 

“I just like the outfit, nothing more…” 

“If you say so, Rabbit. By the way, why are you warning me anyway? You could’ve let me get attacked by villagers and you’d have been free from me. Yet you didn’t. Why?” She asks with sincerity. 

He is given pause by her query. Why did he warn her? He had no reason to. Maybe he just doesn’t want to see her hurt, even if it meant being free. Maybe he feared what she’d do to the townsfolk if there were a fight. Or perhaps the Rabbit had been alone for so long that he longs for her company. Maybe this was his best chance at companionship and he didn’t want to let it go so easily, even if he was stubborn about accepting the circumstances. 

“I… I don’t know. I already get enough strife from everyone about my magic, the last thing I need is another mistake to dangle over me.” He comes up with a quick lie.

“Well I’m glad you did, because that was a test” She says as she gently turns his head towards her. “And you passed.” She plants a soft kiss on his forehead through her mask then starts striding towards the door. “I’ve been to the human realm before, of course I know how they feel about me.” 

“A test…?” He asks, flustered. “Of course it was…” 

“Oh pet, look at you so red over one head kiss. My lips didn’t even touch your skin.” She teases. 

He simply stays quiet in embarrassment. Quiet is something not usual for the Rabbit. This makes the woman giggle, she can’t believe she caught him this off guard by a simple kiss, and through her mask no less. If this is how he reacts from this, he’ll be simply mush at anything more. How utterly pathetic: he really is perfect. 

“Are you ready to go?” She asks, breaking the silence. 

“”Yes I am. "he replies.

“Oh, one more thing though, before we head out.” She snaps her fingers and a small trail of flame goes from her hand to the front of his collar, creating a simple black leash as it fades. “I can’t take my pet for a walk without a leash!” 

“Wait what?!” He yelps as she yanks him close “You can’t do this! It’s demeaning!” 

“This is what happens when I can’t trust you not to run away like you tried to yesterday. Accept the consequences of your actions, it could be worse after all. I could make you walk on all four again.” She states sternly.

“N-no please don’t do that!” He whimpers in defeat.

“That’s what I thought. You’re so cute when you grovel.” She says with a chuckle “Don’t worry, pet, no one will be giving you any strife today. I will make sure of that.” 

He sighs and hangs his head “I highly doubt that…” 

She opens the door and the two step outside. 

“And just so you don’t get any ideas about trying to send a mob after me; because our souls are linked, if I die you will lose a part of yourself. You won’t die… probably… But you will never be the same again. We wouldn’t want that, would we, pet?” She warns with a serious tone. 

He shakes his head “No. No we wouldn't. I won’t do anything foolish.” 

To Be Continued...

[starry-blue-echoes]

So I was thinking about the upper right sketch from the doodle page and brain FINALLY decided to let me elaborate

basically AU where when Echoes becomes Act 3, they also become independent……. sort of. Essentially they pull a Notorious BIG and completely break off from Koichi, becoming their own being entirely

and how do they realize Echoes is independent?

When Koichi dies

And to say Echoes freaked out….. is a MASSIVE understatement. Kira had expected Echoes to fade away after the blow, so when it didn’t he was completely caught off guard and unprepared. And well……

Echoes was far from merciful, and a caved in skull and rib cage isn’t a pleasant way to go, and by the time Echoes was finished Kira looked more like a smear on the pavement than a person

And he tries to get Koichi to wake up. He cries and begs and shakes him, desperately trying to feel ANYTHING coming from his side of their bond, but he’s only met with an empty shell

He doesn’t let anyone get close to his User’s body, and Jotaro has to physically restrain him when the ambulance comes to take away Koichi’s body

And for the next couple days, only Jotaro’s able to actually deal with Echoes’s distraught state. After all, despite all it’s power Echoes is barely a few months old, and on top of that has only been able to think and communicate for a mere fraction of that time. It’s more or less a child, a grieving one at that who’s lost the most important person in his life. He’s angry and sad and confused and frustrated and overwhelmed

However…….. not everything is what it seems

Specifically, a bit after Kira’s death and Reimi passing on, someone ends up walking by the Ghost Alley, probably to go to the concerned store

needless to say, they were not at all expecting to see Koichi standing where Reimi had once stood

so yeah, Koichi ends up being the new ghost in the bad alley, however unlike Reimi he’s decided to linger out of his own free will. He…..doesn’t really have any reason to pass on, so he might as well stick around for a bit so he can at least hang around his friends for a bit longer

And this is…… complicated for Echoes. Because on one hand he is absolutely and completely dedicated to Koichi. His love and trust knows no limit, and even though it isn’t technically bound to him, it would do anything Koichi asked of him

but on the other hand, Echoes is ashamed. Ashamed that Koichi died, that it failed to protect him, that his life was cut so short. It can’t let go of the guilt of what happened and places almost as much blame on himself as he places on Kira. Koichi does his best to help out in that aspect, but it’s going to take a bit

and Echies visits Koichi every single day, sometimes for hours at a time, telling him all about the happenings in town, how the others are doing, anything and everything in order to make up for the fact that Koichi can’t leave. It brings him gifts and drawings which Koichi uses to decorate some of the ghost houses in the Alley, and once Josuke, Okuyasu and even Rohan learn that physical items can stay they join in too until some of the rooms look like the one from Howl’s Moving Castle. It seems messy to most, but Koichi has a whole system in place so he can appreciate all of it

[neonbitemarks]

It had been a set of unfortunate circumstances. Nikolai was going through a particularly turbulent rough patch. His episodes were occurring frighteningly frequently again, as though all of the progress he’d made over the last three years had suddenly vanished overnight, and the best anyone could hope for was that it was only temporary and would pass soon.

He’d been feverish again, though every effort had been made to combat that so that he would remain stable. Still, it took time to leave his system, and his healing factor was slower than usual, further hampering the situation. Nik hadn’t been able to leave the cage in days, a precaution for his safety, and that meant his family taking shifts to watch over him in case the side of him that seemed to hijack control during his blackouts attempted to harm him.

It was a small mercy that his grandfather was still visiting, meaning there was an extra pair of hands on deck to help out around the house and an extra person to watch over Nik while others got some sleep.

The hour was late, and the house was quiet.

Nikolai had woken up from his most recent bout of needing to be sedated with the steep dust system installed in the cell. Still, the episode had outlasted the dust’s effects this time around. Hence, the boy who had awoken was not in a pleasant mood, still groggy from being dosed and scowling up a storm. However, the threat of being put back under seemed to keep his self-destructive tendencies on a leash for now.

“Are you going to let me out yet? “he quizzed, knowing the answer, but he pushed his luck regardless.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, at least for the time being,” the elder god replied calmly, seeming completely unfazed by the change in his grandson despite it being so upsetting for his parents to witness.

“What, in case I eat someone?” the boy leered.

“It is a matter of safety, yes, though more so your own than anyone you might harm since you seem only to target those proven to have hurt children.”

The boy’s eyes flicked up, a slight shift in his demeanor that seemed to be surprised.

“How did you...?”

“I know a lot of things, Nikolai.”

“Your precious little Nikki isn’t here, old man. Don’t you know that?”

“Oh, but he is. I’m looking at him right now,” Erebus countered. “And I am talking to him.”

“Don’t waste your breath. He can’t hear you right now.”

“Perhaps, but part of him is listening nonetheless.”

The boy saw what Erebus was getting at, taking a beat too long in responding to pretend that he didn’t.

“So? What’s your point?”

“My point is that, no matter what you choose to call yourself, you are still my grandson.”

“Is this the part where you try to appeal to my good side?”

“I’m simply stating that I recognize what you are.”

“Oh? And what is that, exactly?”

“The part of my grandson that remembers what happened to him.”

“Wow, clever. A real fucking eye-opener there, gramps. As if Nikki-boy’s therapist hadn’t already worked that one out? What other revelations have you got for me, hm, Captain fucking Obvious?”

“You don’t really want to hurt Nikolai.”

“I thought you said I was him?”

“You are, and you are the part of him that is in pain.”

“Again, not hearing anything new here….”

“You hurt yourself because you feel as though it’s the only way to get anyone to pay attention to your pain. You do it because you want them to see how much you are hurting, and you don’t know any other way to show them that is more effective than by spilling blood.”

The boy went quiet, another witty remark dying on his tongue as his grandfather summed up the driving force behind his behavior.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…” he muttered, expression souring into a pout.

“That’s possible, but what if I am correct?” Erebus inquired, approaching the glass that separated them both. “Do you know what some animals do when caught in a trap? They lash out and bite anything that comes near, even if that thing is trying to help them. Some even gnaw off their trapped limb to free themselves.”

“How is that relevant?”

“Because right now I see that fourteen-year-old boy, trapped in the memory of what was done to him, fighting like hell to be free of it, even at the cost of hurting others and losing a piece of himself to escape it,” Erebus answered plainly. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll believe you.”

The boy in the cage looked away, trying to hide the faltering in his hostility as he fought to push his emotions down and control them once more.

When he turned back, his grandfather was no longer on the other side of the glass but inside the cage with him.

It startled him enough to make him jump, unsure how Erebus had managed it without physically opening the cell door since the whole thing had been spelled and warded up to the eyeballs to keep Nik safely confined and unable to escape.

“I know none of us can begin to imagine how much it must hurt, Nikolai,” Erebus stated gently, slowly moving closer, keeping his hands visible to not spook the boy further.

“Stop calling me that!” he spat in reply, his resolve crumbling. “I told you, he can’t hear you….”

“Then I’m telling you this. I know the pain is more than you can bear, and I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. You don’t have to hurt yourself to get my attention. I am listening, and I will stay here and listen for as long as you need,” the elder god affirmed. “And if you need me to talk to your mother on your behalf, I will do so, no matter what you have to say or how difficult it may be to hear.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because it has become clear to me that you need to be heard in a way that does not involve bloodshed, and whichever part of you called to ask for my help understood that hurting yourself is not getting you anywhere other than spending more and more time locked in here.”

The boy fell silent for a long moment, considering the old god’s words before he let a sniffle loose, his head hanging low as his posture sagged.

“I’m just so tired…” he whispered, voice cracking with exhausted desolation.

“I know you are, dear boy. Enduring what you have for as long as you have, and while still so young, is terrible beyond words, and admittedly, I, too, am not at all pleased with your aunts on this one. You deserved better than this. You deserve better.”

The boy broke down sobbing, looking so much younger at that moment as the broken, frightened child inside the older teen stopped fighting against efforts to help him for just a moment.

Erebus moved in to comfort his grandson, pulling him into a gentle but firm embrace and making soothing sounds.

“I promise you, you don’t have to suffer this alone,” he murmured, cradling the boy as though he was physically still that small child the elder god had carried around so often when he was little and fussing terribly.

“Let us help you.”

[ffxivbabey]

What does your heart look like?

Ty for tag @fatewalker-phoenix

Nyka got:

a bird struggling to get loose Your heart can never hold still. It pounds against your chest frantically, always turning your sights to one thing after the next. When was the last time you were certain? The last time your life was stable? Maybe this is how you prefer things. On the move constantly, not tied down to one person or place. You chase one goal after the next. Can you ever really feel complete without a place to land? Shouldn’t you build yourself a nest? 

Nooot sure if that one fits her at all, honestly

Grace got:

a compass that doesn’t waver You are someone who is certain of what you want. Maybe you always have been, or maybe you made a discovery that you haven’t been able to tear your eyes away from. Your heart is set and certain. You fight endlessly for your goals. Above all else, you know who you are and what you are trying to achieve. Just be careful not to tear yourself or others apart in pursuit of your ideals. 

This one fits her better, especially after the battle with Rubicante where she fights with a new resolve, a new strength. She was just going with the flow until her father died, which really threw her for a loop, but in time, she got better. And now she’s more grounded, more there. Ready to take on whatever life throws at her next with a smile.

Josephine got:

a tangled ball of red strings Who are you without the company of others? You aren’t sure, but you know that you aren’t fond of whoever it is. You are an actor, a pretty face and a pleasant song. Many idolize you, or love you, but you can never be sure of how sincere it is. Your heart is buried under the letters they leave you, sealed with a kiss. It can’t be untangled from the red strings they’ve attached to you. You deserve to find something, someone, true and faithful to hold your heart in place. You don’t have to be everything to everyone. 

This one is... interesting. Josephine tries to be loved by all, but it doesn’t affect her that much if it isn’t sincere. Her only true loves in life, up until she met Hannah, were her daughter and her body. Hey, she can be vain! She doesn’t try to be everything, in fact, she tries to be one thing and that’s a sexual object. But she doesn’t mind. Truly. In fact, nobody was any the wiser as to her true motives until it came to light that her long-lost daughter yet lived. Only then did the cracks in her facade begin to show.

Alin got:

a cage with iron locks You are an enigma. You take care to remain that way. You aim to keep people guessing; your motives are uncertain even to yourself. What is it you truly want? You’ll never know if you keep your heart locked away like that. You deserve to be known, truly and fully. Stop being afraid of what you might find if you open your heart up to self-reflection. Stop thinking that no one will love you the moment they understand you. You are more than the facade you put on. 

Boy just cannot accept that people love him. Like, really love him. He’s the jokester, the prankster, he’s fine (he’s not) and those who love him can see right through him.

[praphit]

Across the Spider-Verse: MORE! MORE! MORE! MORE! MORE!

Is MORE always better? You might say in response to that question - "Of course it is! What a stupid STUPID question!" We all want more! - more food, more time, more clicks, more gossip, and most importantly, MORE MONEY. If your boss offers you a raise, you're not going to say "No". STUPID question!

On the other hand...

More food can sometimes be a problem.

More clicks and more money could make you arrogant.

  How about more kids?  - does that always work out?

  More drugs? More plastic surgery (I won’t disrespect someone by putting a pic/gif here, but y’all have people in mind :)?   

How about more Kim Kardashian's? There are so many.

Like The Black Eyed Peas once said "Whatchu gon do with all that junk? All that junk inside that trunk?" If you don't know, but still acquire said junk, then you might have a problem!

Marvel wanted more universes/dimensions... do they know what they're doing? Idk, but we're all kinda skeptical. DC wanted more than one Ezra Miller.

  What the hell were they thinking?? Idk.

But, you know who did MORE really well?? - SONY, with "Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse"

If you don't know, that was pretty much a story about SONY knocking on this kid's door (Miles Morales),

and saying we're going to turn you into Spider-Man. And the people cheered for a black Spider-Man! (Yes, he's Latino as well, but... we've claimed him. Tiger Wood's is ours. Barack Obama is ours. And so is Miles Morales :)

SONY said "MORE" - and we went into the Spider-Verse and found all kinds of Spider-People:

including Nic Cage, some Anime Spider-Girl, a white girl who kept winking and smiling at Miles (Gwen Stacy / Ghost-Spider), Peter, and a Pig. Miles wasn't getting all of the attention any more, so he had to level-up, save the day, and get rid of the extra spider-people. But, it WORKED! Great animation! Great story! It was exciting and funny! Some call it the best Spider-Man movie of all time...

until a lil bit ago when "Spider-Man: ACROSS the Spider-Verse" ( Part 1 ) came out.

SONY once again said "MORE!" And they cranked that "more meter" up as far as it could go.

We've still got Gwen, and she's still flirting with Miles.

Still got Peter  / Spider-Dad

But we've also got Pavitr Prabhakar / Indian Spider-Man

Spider-Punk 

Spider-Man 2099 (many people's favorite, from the comics)

A pregnant Spider-Woman

And so so so much more

And once again, Miles is trying to find a way to make them all go away... 

well, most of them :)

Same great animation! Great story! Amazing voice actors! Somehow the MORE, still isn't too much! I want even MORE! I would love more Spider-Story from all of these characters. But, this story is again Miles' , with some pleasant interruptions from Gwen's story. They're both just trying to live as spider-people, and still somehow be kids and relate to their families... while some force is always trying to kill them/destroy their universe. 

Same formula as the first movie, but if it ain't broke...

Got a few villains here, but you'll have to decide who's the most villainous:

One of the Spider-People is a villain... kinda, I guess. (though to be fair, they believe they're the hero of the story... granted so does Thanos, and Kang, and Ron DeSantis) All bout POV, I suppose.

Spot - 

- a goofy ass character who gets MORE scary the MORE power he attains.

Fate - a bit of a boogeyman for all of us

And I'd say Miles Morales. Only cuz he keeps screwing up., and keeps throwing tantrums. But, to be fair, again, he's only 15. How many 15 year olds would you trust to save the world? Maybe Greta Thunberg when she was 15, but that's it.

I don't have much of anything negative to say about this sequel. It gets a lil corny at times with some of the Spider-Writing, but it is what it is.

Whenever you have a story about timelines and fate, things get a lil muddy, BUT it doesn't here, because the pace of this film is so fast (in a good way) that you don't have time to dwell on all of that.

A lot of speeches about self-discovery though... I'll say that.

  This movie has a lot of heart, and for some it'll be too much. If you're dealing with some emotional stuff right now, or you have teenagers... or you are a teenager, some of this might hit too close to home. I don't remember having this many revelations that called for monologues when I was a teenager; seems unrealistic. I remember just kinda... doing things when I was a teen... there was no enlightenment. That kinda stuff doesn't come around until your mid to late 20's... MAYBE. That's if you were paying attention, which you probably weren't/won’t.

 Nah, most likely, you'll have those self-discovery moments, in therapy, in your 30's. Then, you're ready for speeches in your 40s & 50s.

So, you know, I respect the self-awareness. Perhaps this is the true power of the younger Spider-People in this film.

This movie is a true visual treat! I can't wait for it to stream, so I can pause and soak up each artistic frame that was treated with such care, style , and inspiration.

Grade: A

You're right! Stupid question! 

MORE is better! Well... at least when we're talking Spider-Man. I want more Spider-Stories! More Spider-People! More Spider-Video Games! More Spider-Promo! More Spider-heartstring-tugging! More Spectacular ART!

F*ck it! MORE of EVERYTHING!

More drugs! More money! More fake butts! MORE MORE MORE! May it never stop! Consequences be damned!

(sorry, that escalated quickly... oh well) 

MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ghostlycoze]

Well THIS made my terrible chronic-pain day significantly less terrible! What a pleasant surprise!! :D This absolutely made my day to get to see, I’m so honoured to see you draw my silly little headcanons and to hear you were inspired by them!

I’ve been offline for a while but itching to share some of my ideas, so this is the perfect opportunity–thank you for the invitation! (Oh, and I’m totally taking your Lilypad Essay post as an excuse to ramble about an au i've been working on called the Iterator Revolution—a lilypad-centred eventual-off-the-string AU! Buuuut I got to this one faster >:P)

Now to see if I can organise my mess of thoughts about these silly little robots…

I’m busting out the cozy tea for this one lads. [cracks knuckles]

This is almost exactly how I imagine them, although with a couple little additions that make mine just a liiiiiittle more organic (though I ADORE exploring the more mechanical parts of these guys too!!). Mainly things like innate behaviours they have that are utterly pointless aside from purely communication-based purposes; things that come instinctually to them as a result of deep rooted genetics that don’t really apply to what they are as a whole. For example, yawning! I’ve given my iterators a cute equivalent of “yawning”, which is a combination of cute antennae flutters (like when a cat stretches real hard), scrunching their faces up, usually stretching at the same time, and a deep exhale through their vents. It’s not exactly a yawn, but it's their way of being reminded of their own energy (and it's just cute~)

I feel the urge to go “Biiiiig stretch…” Whenever I imagine these little guys stretching, like you'd do with cats. Cuties, the lot of ‘em.

I imagine in my HCs that they could dream as well; as I tend to imagine their puppets hold a fair bit of the bio in their biomechanical forms, I imagine a lot of their more organic needs would shine through especially once off the string—and given the way they could run countless parallel mental processes at once, I feel like dreaming isn’t too far fetched. Just like how our brains use sleep-time to process information, maybe they only start dreaming once they’re off the string, because to process all that background information while processing active happening things at the same time could be too much now that they've been reduced to their puppets–so that's instead been moved to be a sleep-process.

And for a side dish of angst: Moon and Pebbles would probably be the most prone to nightmares. Moon with collapsing and drowning, and Pebbles with the Rot... Ouch.

Somewhat-related to their sleep (moreso cuddling), I imagine once they're off-the-string, they'd come to realise a new need of theirs is the need for touch. Almost all creatures have it, and while they’d have never known until coming off the string, they too desire it.

Maybe I’m just a sucker for comfort-fluff, but I feel like the first time any of them get to just hold each other, they’d be likely to just cry. Between having never really experienced physical touch before (I imagine maintenance from the Ancients hardly counted, they were likely “switched off” for such things anyways), being almost overwhelmed by it given their deprivation, realising how much they’ve wanted it, and realising how cruel it is that this is something they desire given they’d been caged and separated from each other… Yeah, that’s a lot of emotions for one being to have. It’s relief of what they have, and it's grief of what they should’ve had sooner.

Extending off that, another HC I vaguely remember picking up from another artist’s ideas (I’ve absolutely forgotten who, but I’ll credit when I remember!), is that they all have a sort of electromagnetic field (?), a sort of faint vibration of energy that they can feel from each other like a comforting aura of the other’s presence. Other organic creatures can’t feel it, and before they could touch in person they weren’t aware of it, and yet it’s something that becomes a big source of soothing and a hint of intimacy when iterators cuddle. Those energies almost sort of combine, like the idea of your heartbeat or breathing syncing with a loved one when holding them—and it brings a sense of familiarity, like being back in their cans when they felt the room thrum and hum with their own life force; a sense of home, found in one another. I also imagine newer gens have a stronger electromagnetic field, so it’s more noticeable and special for Moon than it is for Sig when they’re together!

Aaaand slightly less related but still wanted to mention, is iterator stimming!! Maybe it's a bit of projection, but I totally imagine these little guys need to stim, ESPECIALLY when off-the-string. Going from your loud can with 40 different processes going through your head at once, messages coming in from all over your city, an endlessly racing mind designed purely to iterate, to think. And then take all of that away. Leave nothing but a little guy who can only have the amount of mental processes you and I have (albeit likely VERY intelligent processes, but still.) Yeah, the understimulation would be hard to deal with! Everything is too quiet, they need to do something, they were never not doing something so to not constantly be busy would be difficult to adjust to! And so, they’d start stimming. Something to stimulate them, to get all of that energy out, to focus their mind on.

I feel like Sig in particular stimmed before coming off-the-string too—spun around on his rig and did little flips and swoops in the antigravity—though the others may have too. Moon, while she’d never admit it, totally loved hanging upside down now and then. She even does it in-game! Pebbles spun his pearls around, and Suns probably had their own form too, maybe even painting the wall of their chamber? (could explain where Spearmaster got their artistic flair from!)

But after getting off the string, they’d have to find new ways to stim.

Sig definitely does the handflaps, kicks his legs, will just stand and spin around if she’s particularly energetic—the more “big” stims, very obvious. (Little note: I tend to bounce between he/she pronouns for Sig, another little fun HC I picked up from a friend!)

Moon flutters her antennae a fair bit (as does Suns, though theirs can move outwards while Moon’s can only move up and down), wiggles around and bounces on her feet—cute full-body stims that aren’t super intense, but still quite obvious.

Suns moreso rotates their antennae around, but has much slower and the most subtle stims. Gently rubs their hands together and such. I honestly don't have as many ideas for them, but hopefully I'll come up with some more soon enough!

Pebbles taps his fingers on things, bounces his leg—fast yet small stims, usually that he tries to play off and hide. I wouldn’t be surprised to catch him spinning a spear around just to busy his hands. Oh, and he moves his antennae a lot—twitches his antennae wildly at pretty much any and every sound or even thought he has.

This idea is mostly because my design for him has extremely long, flexible antennae, but I like to think newer gens are very expressive with their antennae in general (when they have them… sorry Sig), since they’re far more emotionally in tune with themselves than their older counterparts. Moon and Suns struggle to understand their needs and emotions because they were seen as far more “robot” than individuals at their time of creation, plus any need would be immediately attended to by maintenance workers. For newer generations, they develop their personalities and recognise their emotions a lot faster, as a result of being allowed to be far more individual and “alive”, and also a purposeful measure so they can take care of themselves; less work for those lazy ancients! E.g. While Moon and Pebbles both overwork themselves (runs in the family, eh?), Moon is usually a result of not realising how tired she is, while Pebbles is aware but ignores it.

There’s so many ideas I have for this concept, but some main ones are:

Sig and Pebbles helping Moon and Suns unpack their feelings because it comes a lot less naturally to the two

Moon and Suns making an active effort to better learn how to express their feelings (especially romantic) to better emotionally connect with the recipients (Sig and Pebbles)

The conflict potential (that already somewhat shows in canon) of such a difference. E.g. Suns failed to properly communicate on an emotional level resulting in only furthering Pebbles’ anger in the Spearmaster campaign.

But anyways, back to their sleep habits!

The slurred speech, the devolving into basic beeps for communication, saying silly sleepy-nonsense, that’s all totally how I imagine it!

In fact I have a whole scene idea of Sig and Pebbles bonding when Pebbles is very sleepy, and it’s actually the basis of my “Pebbles is a noodlefly” joke. While I’ve yet to draw it, the basis is:

NSH: You know, you remind me a lot of noodleflies. Pink, long face…

FP: Mmm… Rude…

NSH: Oh, quit being so moody. You’re a grouch even when you’re exhausted.

FP: … [Sleepily honks like a noodlefly, in an attempt to prove he can play along with jokes]

NSH: Ha – HA! No way, did you just honk!?

FP: Shhhut up… Too loud…

NSH: Pfft— Sorry, sorry… Get some rest, ya’ noot.

It becomes a big inside joke for the two. On the occasion Sig’s in need of some cheering up, Pebbles will cast aside his pride and honk to make him laugh.

Anyways, back to sleepy-HCs. I imagine iterators needed sleep when attached to their cans, though significantly less. Like any computer, if you leave it running forever, it’ll eventually overheat or begin to wear down–so some down-time is needed! Though that need for rest is significantly more important considering the amount of exertion being used by their puppets. While I headcanon the iterators are remarkably strong given their metal bodies, they’re probably not the most fit given they’ve never gone for a walk in their lives! Until their muscles (whether those be organic, mechanical, or some kind of metal-meat mushy mix!) get used to it, they’re gonna be sore and tired after their first cycles of off-the-string life.

I adore the way you incorporated their models into these headcanons too, I definitely imagine Moon is one of the sleepiest given her older design. And she DEFINITELY holds some guilt there as a result—frankly, my hc-moon tends to struggle with a fair bit of guilt after suddenly becoming what she feels like is a “burden” after so long of being the strongest senior that everyone could lean on. Between her ailments as a result of her collapse (chronic fatigue, sensitivity to stimuli, a vocal glitch, etc.), her general inefficiencies due to being an older design, and her phobias she’s developed after all she's been through (mainly of water and heights), she does need a lot of help. (I might make a little post on my HCs for her post-collapse side effects later! Though I did ramble about her sensory issues a little here if you'd like to see!)

I think generally that’s something they all struggle with. Needs. While thankfully they don't need to worry about needs of food and such, sleep would generally be their most vulnerable state and need (minus emotional needs). Moon needs the most help with sleep (just like your ideas!), and usually goes to Sig for comfort and cuddles, though I like to think she’s quite affectionate with everyone.

Suns and Moon have the most vague relationship in my eyes, so a while back I made it my mission to explore that. Running off of Sig’s dialogue in-game of all the iterators having a rough-stage at the start (that Pebbles supposedly plateaued at), I imagine Suns is just a bit younger than Moon. Moon had had her rough patch (and boy did she have a rough patch… Maybe I’ll explore my emo-phase iterator HCS eventually!), and once Suns came around, she helped them out of theirs. I’ve got a big ol' chunk of HC-lore for Suns’ rough-patch, which in summary: Suns was treated as a gifted kid, had their head filled with “The new and improved! The best of the best!” mindset, and it inflated their ego a lot. They were kind of a prick, over-ambitious, and then they met their ego-death when they tried to lead a large-scale ascension. And failed. It led to many being echoed, and… Yeah. No wonder Suns is such an emotional wreck (lovingly) in the Spearmaster campaign, and relies so heavily on Sig for support and emotional regulation. They thought they had another chance, to help someone they cared so dearly for, and they failed again. That’s also why I imagine Suns tried so hard to try to mentor Pebbles and help him out of his egotistical rough-patch—Suns of all people knows what it’s like to be in that mindset, and wants to save him.

But back to Suns and Moon, it was Moon who helped them pick themself up after all of that. While I don’t ship the two, I feel like they’re good close friends, so she’d give them a little cuddle too! Though usually it's Sig or, when his ego allows it, Pebbles.

I tend to mess around with their dynamics a lot, especially since I’ve been introduced to the idea of a polycule-ship! Combine Trafficlight, Lilypad, Sunstone, and Ragequit, and what do you get? Cute, cuddly chaos! They all have adorable potential, I couldn’t resist sinking into the world of bashing these silly little guys’ faces together like they’re barbie dolls and going “Now kiss!”

Moon I imagine is the comfiest to cuddle; soft, squishy material along her plating makes her perfect teddy-bear material. While she tends to take a more holder role when cuddling her brother Pebbles or good friend Suns, she alternates the most with Sig. Sometimes they both just need to be held, so taking turns works best! The way I’ve designed the two (I really need to draw them properly soon) is that Moon’s more middle-bottom heavy, while Sig’s got a smaller torso, but big clunky hands and feet for some fun stylisation—but it also means those two slot into one another like two perfect little puzzle pieces!

While Moon is the softest, Sig personality-wise is actually the cuddliest. Once he discovers the wonders of physical affection, he’s always holding one of their hands or leaning on them or doing something just to have some contact. He’s got cycles to make up for, after all! Sig completely sinks into Suns’ lap, and (albeit with some wrangling), usually manages to get Pebbles curled up in hers. Another cute thought for Sig is that I imagine he is very interested in bioengineering (I mean, he created the first genetically modified slugcat messenger, it’s quite fitting!), and takes particular interest in observing the other three’s puppets. Take it platonic or romantic, I can see him just tracing the seams of whoever he’s cuddling’s plating and analysing their designs and mechanics and organic aspects before falling asleep.

Suns is, in my mind, the biggest. In my design (I really need to finish their design), they’re sort of an opposite to Moon—far more top-heavy, and also somewhat inspired by lizards! (Ft. fun little back spines that spike up and rattle when Suns is angry or scared) As a result, they’re probably more of a side sleeper, or sometimes on their back so the other can lay on their chest. With Pebbles and Sig, they’ll just hold one of the two in their lap and accidentally fall asleep like that—and it absolutely becomes a “well, you’re trapped now” situation.

Finally, Pebbles. Oh, Pebbles. While he’d never dare admit it, he almost always curls into a little ball like a slugcat, and is perfect to spoon. In my design he’s quite a spindly little guy as a result of being a newer generation, and also the most “animalistic” in design (much to his dismay. Digitigrade legs, a longer snoot-like face. The lot!), so he’s perfect to scoop up in your arms. If he had a mouth though, he would bite you for it. Though slowly, as he lets himself bring down his walls around the others, he definitely starts to welcome being held. Little did he know that’s what he needed all along.

WHEW! Okay I wrote a lot. Clearly I’ve been rotating these characters in my mind like a microwave for far too long, but that's a lil collection of my ideas!

Eventually I want to get around to rambling about my ideas of slugcat culture and how the iterators face that as well (a BIG theme in my TBTBU au~), but for now this seemed like a big collection of my ideas relevant to the sleepy-ators! (with a couple extras in there, because who can resist stimmy-ators?)

I can’t wait to hear more of your ideas and see more of your art, this was such a joy to ramble about and I hope some of them you can enjoy!

RW Headcanon: Goodnight, Moon

AHHH YESSSS, now that that Lilypad essay is done I can FINALLY share these—!

Hey, @ghostlycoze! So you remember a few months ago how I made that drawing acting on the Moon beepsnort headcanon, and how in my last reblog I eluded to the possibility of drawing out some of your headcanons again? Well, it looks like that time has come, and this time I've got not just drawings, but lots of additions to another headcanon of yours!

This time, it's from your tags in these three posts, which I also saw a while ago! Yet for some reason I began thinking about it again recently, and as is my nature with ideas I like, I decided to develop it further, and even draw it this time!

Also, just to preface, you'll see I did a bunch of notes beside the actual drawings as well. I'll share the picture and roughly type out the notes (in case my handwriting is a bit hard to read) as well as whatever info I couldn't fit on the page. Some of the text also just says "robots" rather than "iterators" because some of these ideas are stuff I actually imagine applying to robot characters in general! Maybe I'll make a post on that someday...

With all that out of the way though, the actual headcanon is under the cut! Hope you like it!

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What are iterators like when they’re sleepy? Do they even get “sleepy” the way we humans do? This headcanon answers that question with a focus on the iterators’ puppets. Much of this info is also framed in the context of a hypothetical “worm-off-the-string” scenario, since I believe that’s the main situation where sleep and getting tired would actually matter to the iterators.

Firstly, when iterator puppets are low on power, until they find a place to recharge they usually enter a power-saving state where, to conserve what’s left of it, their energy is temporarily redirected away from some of their less-important processes. The side-effect of this, however, is that iterator puppets show symptoms of drowsiness kinda like humans! Whereas humans may yawn, stretch, or rub their eyes when sleepy, iterators will often make sloppier/less precise movements, close their lenses a little, and may even have a harder time thinking, since they sometimes shut off some processors and other cognitive functions until they can recharge. The most common symptom, however, is slurred speech, coming from less power given to their speech-forming software.

Another very-common sign of iterator sleepiness is frequent beeping, often in place of words. This is because, like slurred speech, beeps take much less energy and processing to make than analyzing data, formulating a complex response, then vocalizing it clearly. Beeps are thus far more efficient for conveying simple emotions and reactions than words. Looks to the Moon in particular gets super beepy when she’s tired because she and other early models relied more on beeps for communication — they were made back when things like vivid emotion weren’t as taboo in Ancient society, and iterators were meant to be more friendly and openly interactive with their citizens — so she’s more used to beeping to easily express her emotions. 

As a side-note and mini-headcanon (wow, real headcanon-layering action here), while even the newest iterator puppets can beep, the older iterator models, as a result of this design influence, also have a much greater “beep-vocabulary” with a wider range of sounds that shrunk with the generations. Their beeps are thus a lot more expressive as well, with some sounds even being similar in nature to animal noises or regular speech! I imagine the entire range of their beeps would closely resemble shorter versions of the “droidspeak” sounds of the astromechs in Star Wars.

But, back to sleepy iterators. 

When it’s hibernation time, iterators enter a “sleep-mode”, where almost all of their systems are shut down and recharging becomes the primary objective. However, compared to how I imagine other robots, iterator puppets have a unique way of recharging. Rather than shutting off completely and absorbing power from an external source, iterator puppets have a few key systems within them that remain on even during sleep-mode. These systems, just like those in their superstructures, are capable of converting nutrients into power directly. They emit a soft, rather comforting whirr while the puppets sleep — the only sound iterators make while sleeping, and comparable in nature to stomach sounds during digestion. Otherwise, though, the only other systems remaining on during sleep-mode are a few basic senses, and a program that decides when to “wake up”. The presence of this program also means, uniquely to iterators again, they can wake up on their own, rather than having to be powered back on by someone else like other robots. Overall, these systems are yet another aspect of iterator designs that make them far more biological than many iterators (*cough* *cough* Pebbles *cough*) would like to admit.  And in my imaginings of a “worm-off-the-string” AU, systems like these are one of the main sources of both physical and internal conflict for these characters.

Also, since most of their systems are off during sleep mode, iterators sleep, both figuratively and literally, like statues. Whatever position they fall asleep in is the position they remain in the entire time unless a.) someone moves them or b.) they wake up and move on their own. This also means (unfortunately, if you thought these ideas would be cute) that iterators do not snore, shift around, sleepwalk, sleep-talk, or dream while in sleep mode.

That’s about it for this headcanon as it applies to iterator puppets overall. Now, I’m gonna get into how I imagine Looks to the Moon specifically likes to sleep.

In addition to getting very beepy, Moon also gets very cuddly when sleepy, though some of this comes from her affectionate personality. However, it's also due to a lasting trauma from her collapse. Of course she's learned to tolerate the rain over time, yet after spending so many cycles being rapidly drowned over and over in her can — with endless disorientation and senses so out-of-control from being disconnected from most of her superstructure, no one around to comfort her save for the occasional wandering creature, and the knowledge that her own beloved brother was responsible for this — it’s still left a fair amount of bad memories with her, especially from those cycles most recently after her collapse/revival, and this general unease often resurfaces with the sound of the rain. Therefore, whenever the rain comes, this trauma serves as another, more internal reason Looks to the Moon always wants to fall asleep holding onto/being held by someone, or at the very least while sharing the shelter with someone she loves. 

On a more positive note, since I’m now officially a Lilypad shipper, I imagine that No Significant Harassment is Moon’s default choice of cuddling partner! It can be a little hard to get in position — I imagine Moon always likes to be the little spoon despite her being slightly taller than him — but they manage! Moon pretty much always falls asleep first, because, as the oldest model of the group, and having sustained the most damage post-collapse on top of that, she simply doesn’t use power as efficiently as the others do and therefore gets tired much more easily. In some ways, the poor thing even feels a little guilty about it; she’s supposed to be the leader of this group, and yet here she is, tiring out after less travel and growing drowsy before the rain even starts! Luckily, Sig makes an effort to ensure her she’s more-than worth keeping around, because after every awful thing the world has thrown at her kindness, the least she deserves is some quality guilt-free nap time! And sometimes, if they want a little alone-time (or if Pebbles gets too fed-up with their lovey-dovey gestures), it’ll be just the two of them, and perhaps their slugcats, cuddling together in the shelter. 

And speaking of slugcats, Moon’s second choice of cuddles is Rivulet! Being very soft, warm, and equally cuddly, she makes another good source of cuddles for Moon. And sometimes, if Hunter’s also around and willing, the two join forces with Sig and Hunter for a big, soft, cuddle-filled slumber party!

Still, though, Sig is definitely no. 1 provider of snuggles for Moon. But he loves her dearly, so for the most part he doesn’t mind! Since she falls asleep first, some of his favorite moments each cycle are from just watching her and holding her close as the rainfall echoes from outside; she always looks so beautiful when she’s relaxed, and having her in his arms makes him feel like he can protect her no matter what. So he never really minds when Moon, slurring her words, tiredly asks for him to hold her while she enters sleep mode. 

That is, except when this happens and he’s stuck in that spot for the next several hours…

A few more ideas to this headcanon:

Moon’s third choice of cuddles is Five Pebbles. It’s a bit interesting, because in basically all other scenarios Pebbles insists on sleeping alone in a separate shelter, even though he’s actually rather touch-starved (though it'll be a while before he admits it). Moon is one of the only people he’s actually willing to sleep with, besides occasionally Artificer (in which the feeling is mutual and no one else must be in the room). If I someday decide to ship Pebbles with someone, I imagine he’d also be willing to sleep with them, again, only if no one else is around to see it.

To elaborate on the last point and shift to Five Pebbles’ perspective, the reason why Pebbles always wants to sleep alone is because, as I imagine the worm-off-the-string story so far, Pebbles’ biggest internal conflicts are learning to accept all those “worldly attachments” the Ancients so strongly rejected, and overcoming his god-complex and fear of relying on others. And one of the main ways this manifests is him being so deeply embarrassed to be dealing with these basic survival needs — like yet another one of the savage beasts roaming the world, after having been a vast mechanical god so far above those primitive creatures — that he refuses to let others, even his friends and family, observe him in such a “pitiful” state whenever possible, and resolves to try and overcome it alone. 

To further continue this idea, this is why Moon sometimes insists on sleeping with him. Even though he’ll have to overcome these conflicts on his own, it doesn’t mean he has to be alone while he does it. She makes an effort during these and other moments in this scenario to assure him that it’s okay, no one’s gonna judge or punish him for living this way, and she’ll always be there if he ever decides to accept some help. Pebbles always falls asleep with his head buried in her chest and holding onto her very tightly.

The iterators often like to sleep with their slugcats, who in the AU also stick around a lot to help guide them as they figure out the ins-and-outs of organic survival. 

Both Moon and Pebbles tend to sleep in a curled position. It's actually very similar to how slugcats generally sleep!

Pebbles is quite the workaholic in general, but it also means he has a hard time falling asleep — not because he doesn’t get sleepy, but rather that he often denies it or its significance in an attempt to get more done that cycle (and because, again, he’s “too advanced” for animalistic things like sleeping). The group often has to literally drag him to bed to get him to sleep, and Sig often teases him when his lenses start drooping and his syllables begin to stretch.

In extreme cases, where almost all of their power has been exhausted, iterators won't just slur their words anymore, but their speech will often lose coherency overall, like a spoken case of very drunk typing .

When sleepy, Moon not only slurs her words, but has a tendency to say rather strange and very silly things. It’s another side-effect of less power being used to actually think through her words. There have been many instances where the whole group erupted in laughter after Moon made a really out-of-left-field comment!

Oh, and here's one last quick doodle based off one of the ones above:

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Aaaand that's all for another headcanon! Even though it took me a whole week to do the drawings, it was SO fun getting to develop this idea, especially since sleepy Moonie is such a cute concept! I am so glad that you shared that little idea, Ghost!!

And speaking of which, if you've made it all the way down here, Ghost, may I invite you to add any more ideas to all this, if you want? I'd especially love hearing ideas for the other iterators' sleeping habits (how fast they get tired, what position they like to sleep in, who they usually sleep with, how they wind down before bed, etc.)! I mainly focused on Moon and a bit of Pebbles at the end, since I'm still trying to get a read on Sig and Suns's personalities (especially Suns), so it'd be fun to even further expand on this idea in that regard! Of course, you don't have to, but it's a proposition!

But regardless, I hope you and anyone else who made it to the bottom enjoyed my contributions to the idea! And be sure to keep the adorable headcanon ideas coming!!

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Bonus: Here are the full sketchbook pages, in case anyone was interested in seeing the completed layout! I think I'm gonna be making more of these kinds of drawing/explanation combo artworks!3

[wowwotlkgoldigv]

WoW Dragonflight: Best Professions To Choose

This article is aimed at people who want to make WoW Classic WLK Gold with their professions. However, with an expansion launch, the prices of things will be Volatile and more profitable things may happen. Stay tuned to Wowhead for updates. Here are Wowhead's recommendations for gold making!

Best professions to make Gold in Dragonflight

While you can theoretically make lots of Gold from any profession, there are a handful that stand out as the real money makers. Let’s get into which ones are the best.

Enchanting

Enchanting is good for a handful of reasons, but the main one is that you won’t have to switch up your playstyle much to reap the rewards. You’ll also be able to enchant your own gear, which is always nice.

You’ll also be able to disenchant weapons and gear which will help you rake in the extra goodies like Resonant Crystal. As you gather extra gear pieces throughout the expansion, you’ll be able to disenchant them, gather valuable materials, and earn Gold.

Herbalism

One of the two gathering professions we have here, Herbalism offers players the chance to make money by refining herbs as well as maxing out their collection of Rousing Essences.

To rank up your Herbalism, make sure to utilize Mastering the Elements in order to gain more Essences along the way.

Jewelcrafting

Jewelcrafters can make the new Draconic Vials, which are a necessary item for other crafters. Aside from that new item, you have the standard array of rings, amulets, and the sort that Jewelcrafters are known for within World of Warcraft. While Jewelcrafting is extremely profitable, it’s also relatively boring. Great riches await those with the patience, however, as Jewelcrafters are able to offer some unique mechanics such as Soul Cages and Soul Inhalers.

If you’re looking to make the most money with this profession, converting ores into expensive gems and resources is an easy path to riches. Much like Inscription, Crafting Orders will offer you a slew of gold as well for a tidy sum. Watch the market closely, and find the unavailable gems to make a killing with this profession.

Leatherworking

Leatherworking is the best profession in Dragonflight if you want to make loads of gold. As a leatherworker, you will be making Leather and Mail gear for all classes. The amount of money you will make highly depends on the Quality mechanic. As you level up, you will get new recipes. You also have Special Elemental Patterns where you can make gear with special effects. Leatherworkers get many Equipment Recipes to start making Gold early in the game.

Tailoring

Make the cloth gear for those that try not to get hit. It’s a simple life for a tailor, but Dragonflight brings a few new mechanics for all crafters to explore, such as offering additional experience for each first recipe craft. The big money for Tailoring is with Crafting Orders, allowing the fulfillment of bulk orders for a pleasant sum of money. This is the path to riches for the Tailor, although the ability to outfit mages and the like within the guild is always an added benefit.

Tailors will also come across a few time-gated resources, much like Inscribers. Ultimately, however, there simply isn’t too much utility that a Tailor can offer aside from gear and bulk orders. Focus on first crafts to maximize experience in the new system, and roll through as many orders as possible.

Leatherworking

For Leatherworkers, they'll be making both leather and mail armor that immediately give them a huge audience to craft gear for, including the new Evoker class, so that's going to be great. They also have special Elemental patterns, which are basically special crafted gear. All of this gear comes with special effects, but those effects do count as embellishments, and you can only have two embellishments on your gear at any one time, so these effects have to be really good to take up one of those two slots. They can also make special Leatherworking reagents, some finishing materials, armor kits for leg enchants as well as one or two ranged weapons for the hunters. Leatherworkers also get a lot of profession gear recipes, almost as many as Blacksmithing, so that's another great early gold-making option.

That's all from us on the Best Professions in WoW Dragonflight. Note that we mentioned these ones as they match our playstyle. You can also check out other occupations like Enchanting, Tailoring, Inscription, and more based on your gameplay. Hope it helps. If you like this guide or buy Classic WLK Gold to help you enjoy the game, please visit https://www.igv.com/WoW-Classic-WLK-Gold

[husbandohunter]

A Furry Predicament, but reversed (Reader turns into a cat)? Pretty please with a sweet lil cherry on top? (I recently stumbled across your blog and may I just say that I absolutely adore your works??) Thank youu and take care~~

A Furrier Predicatment [Genshin x Cat!Reader]

♤♡◇♧☆

Synopsis: It's your turn to be a cat after this incident.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Albedo, Zhongli, Childe, Venti

(A/n): Ah you did OwO that's very sweet of you. It's alot of fun to write, especially when your imagination is stunted and you just gotta spit out something silly.

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[Diluc]

Any beloved pet owned by Master Diluc would be under the most high quality and meticulous treatement. Mostly for cats since they tend to be calm while elegant...to some extent. If they were dogs then he'll ensure that they also serve as a partner for sniffing out trouble such as a certain bard who'd might've sneaked into the wine cellars. But you weren't either, so to say, you were both a beloved AND a cat.

As he picks you up gently into his arms, Diluc would be a little baffled on what to do next. He has no idea how to care for delicate creatures as he never had one (other than a pet tortoise but that's different) in which he needed to look for help. But who? The staff? Certainly not, no one can find out that his partner turned into a pet (imagine all the scandals he'll be in). Jean? Anything but the knights of Favonius. And most certainly not his brother.

So Diluc ends up figuring everything out by himself (old habits die hard). All the sweets and regular meals you craved were no long in your menu, you were forced to have a proper cat diet because he believed it was healthier. Half of the time he has no idea what he's doing, since you were a cat and all you could do was "meow" (which Diluc forgets. He tries to have a mundane conversation until you stare at him with feline eyes. That was when he remembered).

"What would you like for tonight's dinner, my love?"

"Meow." He has alot to learn.

Though Master Diluc often gets very tired and he attempts to take a quick nap before killing himself over the next set of duties. That is, until you could help it. Being a cat has it's furry and comfy advantages. So you leapt up to the bed as quietly as possible and onto the side of your lover, circling a few times to see if he was really asleep. When he was you snuggled close to keep him warm, hoping it would lull him into a rest even deeper. He slept like a baby.

~xx~

[Kaeya]

If the Cavalry Capatain were to own a pet, they would either be charmed by him or snaring their teeth because of his unreadable and suspicious aura. Animal instincts are quite powerful. But your case wasn't the latter, thankfully and he could feel himself growing fond of this new found relationship. Almost. What should he do with you now that you're a cat, Kaeya wonders.

Belly rubs and a lot of them. He absolutely adores the way your cute little nose scrunches up while he runs his fingers on the center of your tummy (though he knows when to stop, Kaeya is rather gentle with you nowadays). You found that he absolutely adores the shape of your nose, would pick you up and boop yours with his own somehow knows how to be his flirty self despite your unusual form.

There was this one incident where you saw something shiny flashing over the wall. Slowly you followed it as the bright dot moved futher and further away, evetually gaining speed. Little did you know it was Kaeya who was watching you swipe your little paws up and down against the wall while he was just cleaning his sword. How could he help it? You were often so headstrong and independent, now you were just an adorable little kitten that loves to play with yarn and shiny things. It backfired him though, now there were a bunch of scratchmarks marring the surfaces (which he had to pay for repairs).

Takes you out to Windrise so that you could get some fresh air (also for you to find somewhere else to shed your fur other than his humble abode). Kaeya sits back under a tree while you either chase a butterfly or start slapping against the dandelions (only sneeze when they fly into your face). He wasn't sure if you were aware of what you were doing right now, if you were then he'll have lots of things to talk about once you turn back into human. If not, then at least he had the opportunity to witness such a soft side coming from you.

~xx~

[Xiao]

If any animal were to go close towards the adeptus, they would run away. Xiao isn't very good at interacting with others, pets included, usually they would run into the alleyway or hide around the legs of their owners while he glaringly, blankly stares at them (Even though he wouldn't admit it, Xiao thinks to himself, how soft is cat fur?) Now he gets to touch your cat form and turns out that fur is very ticklish yet pleasant against his skin.

Would be the most awkward conversationalist, the poor yaksha was already terrible with his words (often coming out harsh so he prefers to either keep away or say nothing at all) and even with you sometimes, now it was almost impossible to communicate. Xiao is not very good at reading a cat's body language. When you want him to hold you again, you'd walk in circles. He assumes you were hungry and leaps out the window to go fetch some fish...for the nth time there was a pile of raw salmon stacking upon the floor. Xiao thinks that maybe salmon species weren't to your liking, hence he does out to find another one.

As he plays his flute, you'd magically doze off on his lap. (There was one thing that you both can communicate with at last). Slowly but surely, he comes to learn the different gestures you make for certain situations. You often rub yourself upon his leg which he had heard to be a cat's way of claiming their territory. That was when Xiao picks you up, FINALLY. Though the real reason why it took him this long was because he was hesitant to hold you. He never really held a pet so naturally he has no idea how to hold a cat. Ends up cradling you in his arms because it seemed to be a safer option <3

"I never thought I'd be able to hold you like this," Xiao softly says to your lazy form, observing the way your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, "But I...forget it. We can stay like this for the time being, if you'd like. If not, that's fine too."

You stay.

~xx~

[Albedo]

The only pets Albedo had were for his alchemic experiments (plus they were put in cages too). Fact be told, he would make a terrible pet owner with the lifestyle he has now. The alchemist would be so absorbent into his work that he'll most likely forget that he has someone to feed and by the time he realized it, they would have already starved to death. After hearing glass bottles crashing to the floor, Albedo bursts into the rooms as the smoke fills it completely, finding a cat lost between it. The cat was you. He knows because he made the potions.

Sometimes he'd a little too scientific for his own good. Albedo assumed that when you turned into a cat, you've gone into cat mode and ends up treating you as such. "No, don't go near any bodies of water. You wouldn't like it." He almost forgets that you were once human which is very much like him if you had to be honest. Though when he does find out that you still carried human traits, Albedo must find ways to adapt things to your liking.

He makes your food himself. He's not a cook but he sure is good at everything he does, even if it's something he never did before. This goes for other areas too such as the size of your bed, if you need a little couch to stay on or maybe some tools to play around. (The only time when he is a good pet owner). In his sketchbook he'd have a bunch of blueprints and contraptions of what to make next. There's something enjoyable when spoiling you, those little reactions when you're pleased, like the twitch of your whiskers or the lift of your tail. Albedo finds is very cute.

On top of all that, he could also make you a potion to turn you back into normal. It seemed that it was the last thing he thought of on the list. Albedo was too occupied with treating you like a cat that it all flew over his head until now. Time flies when you're having fun.

~xx~

[Zhongli]

Unlike Albedo, anyone who has Zhongli as a pet owner would be considered to be a very lucky animal. He radiates a calm and serene aura that gives the perfect environment to have infinite nap times. People look at this man and wonder why his pet never gives him any trouble, especially when cats were considered to be both fiesty and needy. But they just didn't know that the cat was you (not like it would make a difference, any animal would know that Zhongli was no ordinary man).

How on earth does he know what you're saying? Maybe it's because he was once an archon. You could meow and he knows exactly what you would like to snack on. You could tilt your head, he takes it that you were curious on what he was currently doing (which was exactly what you were wondering), you can say nothing at all yet as if he could read your mind, Zhongli comes over to pet you with his gloved hands.

"How can I tell? Indeed it is because you're my lover, of course. Throughout this time we spent together, I've come to learn the way you speak through your eyes. They seem to hold true no matter what form you take. It's rather comforting."

Though there were many moments where you sneak up behind Zhongli. His hair, his ponytail- so long. Must play with. As you jump up and down with his thin strand swings side to side, it'll take a few seconds for him to decipher what your were doing. The minute he turns around he catches you with his hands midair and laughs heartfully. Cats were very endearing creatures.

~xx~

[Childe]

Back home in Snezhnaya, Childe would probably have owned a dog or two. They were mostly meant for hunting purposes, big and large furry creatures with thick skin suitable to endure the harsh cold. He has dogs because cats hate him for some strange reason. They either hiss or snootly turn their backs on him, one time he picked one up as a kid but his face bleeding after the cat scratched him with their paws. But of course you wouldn't do that to him. You would never~ he was your cutie pie anyways.

He was an obnoxious hugger, not gentle at all. Childe forgets his strength as a human man and when he squeezes you tightly against his chest, you'd spike out on all ends because by the archons, you're suffocating. But it was your fault for feeling so comfy and warm! Similar to Kaeya, they're both obnoxious but Childe deemed himself to be even worse. He'd rub his face against yours, commenting on how sensitive it sways. Tonia once told him that she wanted a pet cat instead, maybe he should also bring you back to his homeland now.

Yes he would love to play with you. Bring in the cat toys...or not. This was the eleventh Fatui Harbinger, what were you thinking? Normal cat activities? Not here. He's gonna teach you how to hunt like how he taught his dogs to hunt in Snezhnaya. You gave him the most deadpanned and dissapointed look with your large feline glare. Not only was he disliked by cats but he certainly was not good with them.

Though he can take it down a notch sometimes and just indulge in relaxing activities. When there was nothing else for him to do or when he was just tired after a productive day, he'd sit by the kitchen and you on top of the table. While you yawned and leaned down for a nap, Childe plays with the small of your paws to the soft edge of your nails. If he taps your nose, your whiskers twitch. Your ears are nice, maybe he should get you a headband version once you turned back to human.

You immediately wake up when he touches your tail.

~xx~

[Venti]

Achoo!

You sometimes wonder how is it that the anemo archon was able to live through 2000 years without getting beaten up by a cat. If andrius was a large cougar than a wolf, maybe he wouldn't be an archon now. Which is why you are to stay miles far far away from him unless you want the whole of Mondstadt to be blown away by the wind.

Wears a mask (as if this were the covid19 pandemic), although it doesn't take away all his problems, at least it'll minimize it. Venti always has a box of tissues ready but you can tell by the puffiness of his eyes that he's been sneezing alot. He really tries his hardest to pitch in every once in a while when Albedo was working on a cure for you to go back to normal. Though acts as if he was quarantined by staying all the way at the other side of the room.

"Ahahaha don't mind me. It's your local bard of Mondstadt dropping by to see how things are going. I wanna make sure how long it will take for you to make the potion? Just curious!"

No hugs, cuddles or anything involving close proximity. This makes Venti very pouty and impatient. Albedo finds it very hard to concentrate with all the sniffling and sneezing that he had no choice but to kick him out. It didn't help that the location was Dragonspine, now he was sneezing even more.

[rocorambles]

What Is Love?

Pairing: Gojo x reader (Main), Nanami x reader (Side)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Rape, Sacrilegious, God Complex and Delusional Gojo, Somnophilia, Slapping, Choking, Humiliation, Coercion, Non-Con Infidelity

Summary: Gojo learns what love is and unfortunately, you're the object of his newfound affection.

A/N: Thank you as always for beta-ing @sawamooora and dedicating this to my dear @lets-go-datehoe. Thank you for sending this request, Yuli~

Love? Gojo Satoru doesn’t believe in love. Love is for hopeless, lonely souls. Love is for miserable pathetic wretches desperate to fill an emptiness in their hearts, in their lives.

When everyone in the world is already falling head over heels to serve him, to be with him, when he's given everything he's ever wanted and more on a silver platter, why would he need love?

Gojo Satoru is already at the top of the world, with or without love.

Now lust? Gojo understands lust.

Carnal pleasure is never unwelcomed and unlike his elders, his head isn’t shoved so far up his ass to deny that he adores the feeling of his cock inside a slobbering mouth, a sopping wet cunt, an exquisitely tight ass.

But more than that, his arrogance and ego thrives and swells as women throw themselves at him, the feeling of being desired only fueling the prideful monster inside of him, only fueling his borderline delusion.

Of course everyone wants him. He’s Gojo Satoru after all.

And so he lets himself be worshipped, lets woman after woman praise him, reveling in the way they chant his name like a prayer as he returns their devotion with thick sticky white blessings. He smirks at the way they kneel before him, staring up at him in reverence, their pretty mouths and throats stretched wide across his cock.

Gojo Satoru is a god, and gods do not chase after mere mortals. So when he meets and you barely give him the time of day other than a polite bow, he shrugs his shoulders.

You’re just another disbeliever. Another silly lamb he needs to convert. Nothing more. Nothing less. Definitely nothing to get worked up about.

It’s almost amusing how you’re playing hard to get, sinning by spitting such crude and crass remarks at a deity like him every time he tries to speak to you. And it’s almost infuriating how you turn your nose up at him, as if you’re qualified to have an opinion of him, let alone think of him as beneath you. But he hides the pleased smile on his face when he sees your gaze linger just a tad too long to be mere coincidence the first time he reveals his eyes to you, a look of awe slipping past your scowling countenance.

See? They all come around eventually.

And so he lays it on thicker, draping his tall figure over yours, letting his warm breath grace the back of your neck, murmuring coy words in your ear. His long fingers find themselves tangling in your hair, brushing against your hands, touching every part of you as much as he can get away with.

You’re so close. He can feel your walls slowly crumbling away, can see the unsureness in your eyes as you half heartedly nudge him away after unconsciously leaning into his touch. Just a little more…

Except something, or rather someone, stops him.

Gojo Satoru isn’t usually caught off guard, especially not by the likes of Nanami Kento. The ex-salary man is a good man, but just a man nonetheless, no matter how you dress it up. But Gojo grudgingly admits at least surprise, if not something more, when he hears you’re in Tokyo and decides to pay your apartment a visit, only to find the Grade 1 sorcerer’s tongue shoved down your throat, your naked bodies entangled in rumpled bed sheets.

He tells himself it’s just a one night stand...maybe a friends with benefits relationship at most when he happens to catch both of you holding hands in broad daylight, a carefree smile he’s never seen before stretched across Nanami’s face as he sits at a cafe table with you, watching you happily munch on some pastry his underclassman has purchased for you.

Nothing he can’t handle.

But if you were a bitch before, a snarling ferocious wildcat whenever Gojo was around, you’re even worse now. Your apathy, the nonchalance with which you politely smile and nod in acknowledgement at Gojo before promptly ignoring him for the suited man by your side, gets under his skin like nothing ever has before. For once, Gojo is at a loss.

Ahh, so this is what denial feels like. This is the rejection and emptiness that he’s seen drive others to madness. This is love.

Gojo Satoru experiences his first heartache, but he doesn’t break down into pitiful sobs, he doesn’t mope around in self-pity.

He laughs.

He’s lost the battle, but he hasn’t lost the war. And when others would have turned tail and fled, he stands his ground, icy blue eyes sparkling in glee at the prospect of a new challenge, the prospect of his sweetest victory yet.

Gojo Satoru is a dangerous man. You know that with all your heart and soul, so it only makes sense that your hackles raise anytime he’s in your proximity. Maybe you take it too far, disrespecting your senior to an extent that would bring shame to you if it were anyone other than the Special Grade sorcerer. But in hindsight you’ll wish you did more.

You’ll wish you hadn’t caught the attention of the world’s strongest sorcerer. You’ll wish you hadn’t found yourself mesmerized by his sheer power, by those damning, dazzling eyes. You’ll wish you hadn’t begun to be ensnared by his allure, a trap you’ve heard the consequences of far too often from your heartbroken and weeping fellow female sorcerers. Maybe you’ll even wish you had just let him have a taste of you, use you before tossing you out like trash, like every other woman who’s fallen in bed with him, instead of whetting his appetite only to deny him of his feast, only to have him fixate on you even more.

But like Gojo, you know love and lust are two different things. And when Nanami shows up in your life, like a knight in shining armor, you feel Gojo’s spell on you shatter, your heart fluttering and thawing the ice that had begun to creep up your body, trapping you in endless blue.

Love is blinding, and really, you should have known that normal boundaries don’t exist in Gojo’s world. But your adoration for your lover has you hesitantly, but politely, letting the cheerful sorcerer into your shared home with Nanami — even though your boyfriend is overseas for a mission, not due back for at least another week.

It would be a lie to say you’re completely relaxed and fine with the circumstance you’re in, alone with Gojo Satoru with no chance of anyone being able to help you if something were to happen. But for whatever reason, Nanami respects the man, even considers him a friend, and in turn you feel an obligation of sorts to at least be cordial. And besides, Gojo isn’t a good man, but he’s not a bad man…right?

You find it difficult to believe that Gojo didn’t know Nanami was out of town, that his pout is sincere when you tell him that Nanami won’t be back anytime soon. There are only so many Grade 1 sorcerers in Tokyo and even less that Gojo actively keeps in touch with. But what’s the alternative? Believe Gojo came to see you? Unlikely.

Gojo is a womanizer, a slut, whatever other word you want to use. But a homewrecker? Especially of a dear friend? Never. (Frankly, you think it would just be too much of a bother for the emotionally stunted man.)

And you’re glad to see that your theories are proving to be true as the night continues, wondering if maybe the white-haired man is just lonely.

He’s strangely pleasant as he keeps a respectable distance from you, no suggestive comments spewing from his mouth, even his obnoxious arrogance kept to a tolerable low. You feel your guard drop, your smiles feeling more natural, genuine laughs slipping past your lips as he tells you about his latest adventures and missions.

But as a yawn interrupts your conversation and you stare askance at how late it is before urging him home to get some rest, apologizing for keeping him so long, your heart drops as you feel an overwhelming presence caging you against your living room couch, long limbs on either side of your body.

“What do you see in Nanami that you don’t see in me?”

The question is so jarring you almost forget the panic rising in your chest, mouth moving soundlessly as you try to process the meaning of his words. But instead of an answer, all that bubbles out of you is a shaky plea for him to leave.

Gojo’s never been good at following orders or commands. Why would he be? Since when has a god ever needed to listen to mortals? And you’re no exception.

You whimper as you’re suddenly transported to the bedroom you share with Nanami, struggling to no avail as Gojo easily tears your clothing off, positioning you on all fours in front of the floor-length mirror that decorates the corner of the room. Bile rises in your throat as he takes his blindfold off, blue eyes seemingly piercing your soul even through just a reflection and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to imagine you’re anywhere but here, with anyone other than him, trying to grasp at every fond memory you have of your blonde lover. But Gojo has a point to make and you gasp, eyes snapping wide open as a large hand wraps around your neck, choking you until you’re forced to stare at your joined bodies on the mirrored surface.

“Look at how perfect we are together. Look at how perfect you are underneath me. You chose that instead of this?”

You sob when he twists your head and forces you to look at a framed photograph on your vanity, a photo Nanami and you had taken together when he had brought you overseas with him for a mission.You regret not insisting that you go with him this time around, wishing more than anything else that you were wrapped in his strong arms.

There’s something irritating about your wailing and blubbering, your little hiccups and sniveling only fueling something dark and twisted inside of Gojo. Maybe it’s the way he knows that you’d never act like this if he was Nanami. Maybe it’s the way he knows you’re lust incarnate whenever Nanami has his hands or mouth on you. Maybe it’s the way he knows that you despise him and his touch so much, that you’d rather die than let him have you.

Ungrateful bitch.

Well if you’re going to cry, Gojo might as well give you something to cry about. A crazed grin slices his handsome face as your screams reach an all-time high, a frenzy, as he shoves his cock inside your unprepped hole, his shaft twitching in interest when you desperately wail his name over and over again as if that would do anything other than have him intensify his pace. But as pretty as his name sounds from your mouth, he tires of your useless pleas for him to stop. Gojo uses one hand to shove your face into the floor, your garbled cries muffled by the carpet as he chases his end, moaning at how perfect your tight, gummy walls feel around him. He’s dreamt of this for far too long and with a grunt, he cums inside of you, draping over your body and pressing his lips against the back of your neck, affectionately marking and tasting you as he empties his balls.

Through the pain and shame, relief floods through you, hope that this is finally all over, that he’ll leave you and your battered body alone. And you play dead, letting him do as he pleases, only occasionally wincing when he leaves a particularly intense mark on your skin, momentarily cringing when he pulls out, thick liquid trickling from your abused hole.

But you should have known better, should have known this was just the beginning.

You weakly paw at the strong arms easily cradling your exhausted figure, trying to wriggle as much as your aching body allows you to, sobbing into his shoulder when you see the direction you’re headed in. You wonder how it’s possible to feel even dirtier as calloused hands lather you with soapy suds, as Gojo takes his time scanning every inch of your body, intimately caressing and mapping every line and curve. And you plead for forgiveness from Nanami when slick begins to pool between your legs, as Gojo gently kneads and experiments with your breasts, rolling your nipples, long fingers expertly circling your clit and slipping inside of you.

Your orgasm shatters you and you stand there like a rag doll, body convulsing and eyes rolling back in your head as you drench Gojo’s digits with your arousal, the sticky strands of betrayal staining his hand as he brings it to your mouth. He gently peppers your neck and shoulder with encouraging kisses as you submissively suck him clean, tugging you along as he dries you off before tucking the both of you in bed, holding you in the mockery of a lover’s embrace. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s chosen to sleep on Nanami’s side of the bed and shame has you curling into a fetal position, has you burying your face in the bedsheets, hoping for at least a whiff of Nanami’s familiar scent, a reminder of his presence.

It works, and you let yourself fall into a restless sleep, your lips twitching every so slightly upwards despite the tears still trapped in your lashes as you think of a tall blonde man, a yellow spotted tie wrapped around your hands as you teasingly pull a spectacled face in for a kiss. You writhe and twist in your sleep, heavily panting as you imagine Nanami’s hands roaming on your figure, his lips tenderly kissing a bold line down your neck and in between the valleys of your breasts. And as you imagine his fingers carefully rubbing your clit, you sigh his name, only to be abruptly woken as a lance of pain shreds through you.

Eyelids still heavy with sleep, body still groggy from being so suddenly roused, you can’t piece together what’s happening, one of your hands instinctively cupping your smarting cheek. But you frantically claw and bat in the dark, knowing exactly who’s on top of you despite the fact that your eyes haven’t fully adjusted to the blackness, the way your body is ripped apart once more, a telltale sign of whose cock is penetrating you.

“It’s very rude to say another man’s name when I’m the one making you feel so good. Let me teach you the only name you need to know."

There’s something horribly intimate about the position you two are in, the way he’s tainting the very sheets and mattress Nanami had made love to you on countless times. You wish you could force yourself back to sleep, could gouge out your eyes as you begin to make out the man pistoning in and out of you. But it’s no use and you know even sightless, those icy blue orbs are branded in your mind.

You vow to at least not give him the satisfaction of hearing his name from your mouth, pressing and biting your lips until a copper taste assaults your tastebuds. But Gojo has always been talented at everything he does, those gifted eyes seeing far more than they should. You shake your head side to side in denial as a knot quickly begins to form in your gut, body tensing as you feel another wave coming over you, only to let out a confused whimper when everything suddenly stops.

“You get to cum when you say my name and the magic word.”

The playful lilt and childish tone have you seeing red and you sneer in twisted pleasure when a gob of your spit hits him squarely in the face, a litany of curse words and insults spewing from deep inside of you, uncaring of how you’re more like a raving madwoman than a victim.

But you’re not the first brat Gojo’s had to tame, and he just smirks condescendingly down at you before playing you like an instrument, easily bringing you to that narrow brink where even a single breath of air, or a simple flick of a finger seems like it would have you toppling over the edge, only to relentlessly snatch you right back before you can fall.

You don’t know how long he goes on for, your shattered and denied mind barely cognizant of the beginnings of daylight creeping through the window. But as the rays of light make it to your bed, you break.

“Gojo-”

You howl when he pulls out, hips wantonly thrusting in the air for more friction as he crudely slaps his tip against your clit, a frown on his lips.

“That’s not the name I want to hear.”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Where’s your fucking backbone? How could you even entertain the idea of screaming another man’s name in your lover’s bed?

But when he steps away, your eyes zero in on how his cock separates from the sopping wet mess between your thighs, an unbidding distressed whine clawing up your throat at the thought of being left high and dry, mind hazy with lust and arousal.

“Sa-Satoru…Satoru, please.”

There’s work to be done and he’s not entirely pleased by the note of hesitancy and reluctance he still hears despite the hours he’s taken out of his time to educate you. But a promise is a promise and fuck if he doesn’t love the way his given name sounds in your mouth. And with just a few more meticulously placed thrusts and practiced twists of his fingers, you come undone, your lewd sex-crazed appearance and dopey smile from finally getting your sweet release dragging him down with you.

But it doesn’t end there and Gojo makes good use of your empty house, of the week he has alone with you.

There’s not a single surface in your home, not a single hole on your body that isn’t used and marked thoroughly. And even he briefly wonders if he’s being too rough with you, a flicker of concern crossing his mind as he pouts at the idea of his new toy breaking so soon.

But you prove your resilience and a strange concoction of pride and irritation festers inside of him as you determinedly clamp your mouth shut, a spark of defiance lighting up those lust-clouded eyes whenever he urges you to say you love him back, despite the way you practically ride and hump his face as he kneels between your legs and eats you out in the kitchen, despite the way you slur and babble his name over and over again like it’s the only thing you know how to say.

You’re adorable and he wishes he had all the time in the world to break you fully without using his trump card, to see just how durable you really are. But time is ticking and Nanami is due back any day now.

“Say you love me.”

He coaxes you by gently holding you in his arms, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, endearingly observing the way you seek the little comfort you can get despite the fact that he’s the giver, so deprived of anything other than frenzied arousal. But steely resolve hardens your eyes and you turn your face away.

“I love Nanami.”

You brace yourself for a cock slamming inside of you, a hand wrapped around your throat, but you aren’t ready for the endless galaxy that suddenly surrounds you, and blood-curling fear washes over you.

Unlimited Void.

You’d have to be living under a rock not to know of it, and yet, seeing it in person, you can safely say the rumors and tales don’t do it justice. Gojo laughs at how you frantically cling onto him, your arms wrapping around him, your face burying itself into his chest, voice trembling as you beg him to release you, beg him to get rid of his domain expansion, beg him not to let you go. You’ve seen the aftermaths of his technique, seen curses and sorcerers much stronger than yourself reduced to brain-dead husks from mere seconds in his domain.

“Say you love me.”

The words are on the tip of your tongue, fear making you docile. But a flash of blonde, a glimpse of a tailored suit in your mind keeps your saving grace stuck in your throat. You tell yourself it’s okay, you don’t mean it, it’s just a means to save yourself, surely Nanami will understand. And you begin to open your mouth, only to break off in a scream as you’re roughly shoved away, your hesitation speaking volumes to the white-haired sorcerer who sighs in irritation.

Not that you really notice or maybe you notice too well. You aren’t sure. You are sure. You can feel your sanity rapidly slipping as everything and nothing slams into your senses at once.

“Satoru, I love you!!”

It’s barely comprehensible, a shrieked frantic wail muddied by anxiety. But it’s enough and you sob in relief when Gojo ruffles your hair like you’re a well-behaved pet, leaning into his touch and digging your nails into his wrist, keeping his contact on you still and steady, dry heaving as you come back to your senses.

You don’t even realize that the repeated mantra is still coming out of your own mouth as you fling yourself onto the sorcerer as his artificial universe fades away, curling up in his lap, heart pounding as you chant “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over again like it’s your holy scripture.

Gojo is on cloud nine watching you finally come to faith, finally worship him and praise him. You were lost, and now you’re found. And he has no intentions of ever letting you stray again. It’s not like there’s anywhere else for you to go, anything else for you to do other than warm his cock anyway.

He crashes his lips against yours as he easily slips inside your well-used cunt, walls molded and shaped perfectly after countless rounds. It’s sinful how good you feel, how good you sound, and he can feel his balls tighten, his own end quickly approaching as you shatter to pieces over and over again around him, quivering walls milking him, clamping down on him as if you can’t bear the thought of being empty.

But there’s nothing to worry about. What god would leave his faithful disciple unrewarded? What declaration of faith comes without a baptism? And he cums inside of you, hot spurts filling you up, branding you, marking and claiming you as his, the sticky white trails leaking out of your stuffed cunt a public declaration of who you belong to.

There’s silence as he lets you collapse on top of him, grinning at how blissfully fucked out you look, cock already twitching in interest again as he spies the mess of tears and drool dripping down your chin. But there are matters of business to attend to first and he nudges you to look at him, cooing down at vacant eyes still hazy with pleasure.

“Nanami is returning tomorrow-”

Blinding pain shocks you as a large hand tangles with your roots, pulling your head back so far you think your neck might snap.

“What are you so happy about?”

There’s a lightness to his question, the silence before the storm, and you wipe the smile off your face, hissing as he tugs harder.

“I know you like me more, but I didn’t think you would be heartless enough to be so excited about breaking up with your boyfriend. Poor Nanami.”

Even through the pain, the unspoken weight of his words registers in your head and you snarl at him with a vengeance.

“I’m not breaking up with-”

Your throat goes dry as he relinquishes his hold on you, one hand raising to eye-level, pointer and middle fingers beginning to cross, and you go still, mouth snapping shut.

“Good girl. Now you’ve experienced Unlimited Void for yourself. What do you think would happen to Nanami if I left him in there for even a second? Do you think he’d ever be the same even if he were to somehow survive, even if he were to go through months of rehabilitation?”

The inquisitive tone makes it sound like just a bunch of theoretical questions, but you know better, know the ramble for the threat that it is.

Love is about sacrifice, and you’re willing to give it all up for the man whose contact Gojo is pulling up on your phone, whose number is being called. And as the ringtones finally stop and a familiar voice greets you over the speaker, you seal your fate.

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

[navegandoaciegas]

Not so shy now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: You’ve been pushing Bucky’s buttons for days, and he finally snaps.

Warnings: smut, 18+, watersports, omorashi, dom!Bucky, brat!reader, a lil’ bit of humiliation and daddy kink, outdoor sex, rough sex.

A/N: I don’t usually write dom!Bucky, but I hope you’ll like this!

You weren’t one for the outdoors, that Bucky had found out the hard way a couple hours into your mission together, being the sole witness to your bitching and complaining for hours on end.

10 days later, all he wanted to do was bludgeon you to sleep until the mission was over.

Or alternatively, fuck you stupid until you’d all but forget about your backpack being too heavy, the bugs being gross, the blisters in your feet too painful and the meals too bland.

He’d been painfully hard for days and his ears just needed a break from your endless complaints, and stuffing your loud mouth with his aching cock seemed like a practical solution to both problems.

And Bucky was nothing but a practical man.

“Barnes,” you huffed, voice coming out in a childish whine, “Bucky? Buck? Let’s take a break, I need to pee.”

And of course, the biggest problem that had surfaced in your time together: you drank like a camel but your bladder had the capacity of a toddler’s.

“You went less than an hour ago, you can’t be serious right now.”

You, on the other hand, watched in amusement as Bucky turned around, a murderous glint in his eyes. You wondered how much more he could take, how much more you could push, until your grumpy but collected colleague would finally snap.

You felt giddy with excitement imagining all the ways that vibranium arm of his could put you in your place. Would he slap you, choke you, pull your hair? Would he be condescending or mean, how much would he degrade you, and most importantly how much could you take before you broke?

“I couldn’t really go,” you shrugged, feigning innocence, “I was scared that a bug would crawl up my ass, to be honest. And I have a shy bladder, you know. Can’t pee if you’re hovering behind the trees.”

“I wasn’t hovering,” he cried out in disbelief, crossing his arms over his middle.

You smiled wryly, following the flexing muscles of his bulging biceps with your eyes.

“You kind of have a hovering problem, Barnes. A staring one too but we can unpack all that later, I really need to pee right now.”

You stomped over to him, swinging your backpack over your shoulder and hitting him square in the chest with it, mumbling a ‘thanks’. He let out a wheeze, stumbling back as you kept walking.

“You fuckin’ brat,” you heard him grumble, “Been gettin’ on my damn nerves all week.”

You heard a loud thump behind you, and before you could turn around, you were yanked by the arm, and your back hit the trunk of a tree as Bucky caged you against it with his beefy frame.

“It’s about time someone put you in your place, isn’t it? You’ve been running your mouth, so loud and so fuckin’ annoying, bitching and moaning about everything.”

You opened your mouth to sass back at him, but his rough, callous hand grabbed your jaw, shutting you up.

“I’ll give you a reason to bitch and moan, sweetheart.”

Before you could process it, Bucky slanted his mouth against yours in a messy kiss, all clattering teeth and drool, his hands forcefully roaming over your body, you tightly clutching his biceps for support.

You were dripping already, panties ruined with the amount of slick that leaked out of your pussy.

You’d been fantasizing about this moment for nearly a year, and in the end it had only taken you 10 days to crack your colleague. Although, as one of his hands groped your breasts and the other kneaded your ass, you had the feeling that he would be the one to crack you. And your back, and neck.

His hips bucked against yours, and your walls fluttered against nothing as you felt his hard length press on you. You’d accidentally seen him before, and you knew he was going to fill you up like no one ever could before him.

You could ignore the pressure in your bladder and the simmering pain in your lower belly for the moment, in favor of losing yourself in the warmth of his built body, in the shivers that ran down your spine with every one of his rough touches.

In a blur, your t-shirt was discarded, your bra ripped and your pants and panties shoved down your legs, while he stood completely clothed over you.

His thick fingers weren’t delicate when they cupped your cunt, harshly pressing down on your engorged clit, but he was so intoxicating that you could forget the scratch of his nails and the mosquitoes tormenting your ankles.

Fuck, neither of you smelled like roses after a whole day of hiking, but all that you could feel was Bucky and the goosebumps and love bites he left behind.

He leaned back just to watch his fingers dip into your dripping folds, smirking at the way you shuddered.

“Fuck, I just knew you were a fuckin’ whore, you’re so wet for me.”

He plunged inside you, feeling your walls clamp down on his hand.

“What, cat’s got your tongue? You’ve been pestering me all week, if I knew this would get you to shut up I would have done it before, doll.”

You moaned his name when his fingers curled inside you, and the tingly sensation in your lower abdomen made your eyes widen in realization.

You still needed to piss. A lot. And the more Bucky’s vibranium hand jerked inside your pussy, the more your urge grew, the pressure so painfully, maddening pleasant.

Bucky latched his lips onto your pulse point, sucking a bruise on it. You clenched your thighs, whining in shame and need, as you fought the urge to release in his hand.

If you accidentally pissed on him, you’d just quit your job and change identity.

You couldn’t bear the shame of it, brows scrunching as you willed your tense muscles to hold in.

Bucky was none the wiser, continuing his ministration and mistaking your heaving chest and copious sweat for pleasure.

It was delirious, brain turned to mush as part of you wanted to let go and cum (and piss), while the other restrained your urges, and witheld your orgasm.

Bucky’s thick fingers inched you closer and closer to your release, but you bit on your lip and dug your nails in his back to stop you from falling off the edge.

“Don’t hold yourself back, doll. I wanna see you fall apart on my fingers and on my cock, wanna make you cream my fingers, pretty girl. I know you can do it.”

Your entire body shook as he doubled his efforts, panting against your ear as his arm vibrated inside your pussy.

You squeezed your eyes shut, body on fire as you tried and failed to conjure any gross image that could sour your mood. None of it worked, though.

A sharp yet somewhat delicate slap on your face brought you face to face with Bucky’s pissed expression.

“Damn brat, never doing what she’s asked,” he tsked, shaking his head, “You’re lucky you’re so pretty.”

You whined in disappointment but internally cheered when his fingers slipped out of you, and despite the emptiness he left behind, your aching bladder could finally sigh in relief.

Relief that was short lived when he manhandled you again, spinning you around and slamming you front against the tree, ass up in the air.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” you heard him mumble as he tugged his sweats and boxers down to free himself, “Wanted you for so long.”

He slapped his leaking cock on your ass, hot and heavy.

“Please, Bucky, please,” you whimpered, parting your legs wider.

You should have been begging for him to stop, but the ache in your pussy was too unbearable, and the prospect of his fat cock splitting you in half too appetizing.

“I like the sound of that, c-could get used to this.”

You felt as the breath had been knocked out of you when he breached your entrance, your gummy walls sucking him in. He felt better than you’d imagined all those lonely nights with your fingers down your panties, his name on your tongue as you made yourself cum imagining his hand instead of yours.

His breaths tickled the back of your ear as he gave you time to adjust, bracing one arm against the tree and the other on your shoulder.

Once he started thrusting inside you, the ache returned, stronger than it had been before.

His cock hit all the right spots inside you, which also meant that it jammed against your bursting bladder with each forceful snap of his hips.

The heat in your core was so great that you couldn’t feel the bark scratch against your chest, or the sweat trickling down his hair onto your back.

Again, you wanted to beg him to stop but words failed you, and all you could muster were some broken whimpers as your tongue lolled out of your mouth and you lost your mind on his dick.

The more he pistoned inside you, the more your need to cum grew, the more the idea of pissing all over yourself and Bucky seemed less scary.

“I can feel your tight pussy clamping down on me, doll. So tight, so good to me. Fuck,” he groaned, lost in his own pleasure, cock swelling inside, “‘M all yours, all yours.”

His arm snaked around your waist to pull you flush to his chest, which proved to be an awful move when his hand pressed against your bladder and you shrieked, a spurt of piss erupting out of you.

“God, you’re squirting? Oh God, fuck,” he grunted, clenching his teeth, “I’ve never made anyone do that before.”

You wanted to laugh, and cry.

“Bucky, Buck, stop, please, stop, I can’t, I-“

“Yes, you can, you’re doing so good for me, c’mon.”

“Bucky, no.”

Your tone was much harder than before, and Bucky froze like a deer caught in the headlight behind you.

You could feel his heaving chest on your back, and could sense his confusion in the air.

“But I thought…?” he muttered, pulling out of you, “Did I hurt you?”

You debated lying to him, but settled on telling the truth despite how humiliating it could be.

“No,” you hesitated, drawing in a deep breath, “‘S just, I really need to pee, I can’t hold it anymore.”

The air was still for a moment. You gulped, not daring to meet his eyes. After what felt like a century, you heard a low growl behind you.

“You and this damn piss,” he grunted, “Gettin’ on my nerves again, you fuckin’ brat. Always drinking water and whining like a child.”

His fingers dug painfully in your hips, surely leaving bruises behind. You were too speechless to protest.

“‘Bout time I teach you a lesson, sweetheart. I’ve been too good to you, and like the little brat you are, you’ve taken advantage.”

Bucky slammed his cock inside you again, pistoning his hips with brutal force while his hand found your front again.

The pad of his callous finger traced the bulge of your bladder, tickling the skin before pressing down on the swelling.

You had no time to think or react before your body acted on its own, releasing another spurt of hot piss against the tree.

You clenched your muscles to hold the rest of the piss in, and Bucky groaned behind you, feeling your pussy throb around him. You could tell he was getting off on your humiliation, watching you struggle to keep your dignity as he played your body like a fiddle.

“And I thought you were squirting,” he chuckles, “C’mon, piss all over yourself like the dumb bitch you are, princess. Show daddy how stupid his little toy is.”

Had you been more conscious, his alternating moods would have given you whiplash, but your sole reaction was to clamp down harder on him, biting on your lips until you could taste your blood on your tongue.

His cock dragging up and down your walls, the pressure in your cunt, the pain in your bladder, his hand on your belly, it was all becoming too much.

You opened your mouth to scream and all that came out were incoherent mumblings as you released all over yourself and his cock, your hot piss coming out in spurts as he kept fucking you.

“Dumb fuckin’ brat, you’re gonna be a good girl and cream all over daddy’s fat cock, aren’t you?”

You nodded, trembling head to toe with the sweetest release you’d ever felt, mind completely wiped as you lost control over your own body.

“Daddy, daddy please,” you wailed, “Make me cum, please.”

Your voice didn’t sound like your own as you begged, Bucky’s words lost on you when the ring in your ears got louder and louder.

You didn’t realize you were cumming until waves of searing hot pleasure crashed through you, the orgasm so intense you felt like you were going to black out.

You had the impression of being underwater, blissfully disoriented from reality, Bucky’s cock being to only thing to ground you.

You felt him throb and grow inside you, and he came with a grunt, filling your cunt with his hot cum so much that it began spilling out of your pussy while he was still hard inside you.

You both slumped against the tree, his arms around your chest, his head on your shoulder.

You were covered in dirt, piss, sweat and cum, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Not so shy now, that bladder of yours, hm?”

——

Pease let me know if you enjoyed the filth! Leave some feedback and reblog if you can! ❤️